Chapter 30
The exclusive gentlemen's club in Mayfair was filled with the scent of expensive cigars and aged scotch,
its walls lined with dark wood paneling and portraits of long-dead aristocrats.
Lord Sterling sat in a plush leather armchair,
laughing with his wealthy associates,
feeling quite pleased with his attempt to squeeze more money from the Vance foundation.
Suddenly,
the heavy oak doors of the lounge were pushed open with a force that made everyone turn around in shock,
interrupting the quiet murmurs of the room.
Marcus Vance walked in,
his presence so massive and commanding that the entire room seemed to lose its air,
the ambient noise dying instantly.
He walked straight toward Sterling's table,
not caring about the rules of the club or the angry glares of the elderly members,
his focus locked onto his target.
Sterling’s laughter died in his throat,
his face turning pale as he recognized the billionaire who was currently marching toward him like an angry god.
"Mr.
Vance,"
Sterling stammered,
trying to stand up to maintain some dignity,
"what an unexpected pleasure."
Marcus did not offer a hand,
nor did he smile,
he simply stood over the older man,
looking down at him with utter contempt.
"Sit down,
Sterling,"
Marcus commanded,
his voice quiet but carrying a weight that forced the lord back into his seat like a physical blow.
Marcus leaned over the table,
placing his palms on the dark wood,
bringing his face close to Sterling’s trembling form.
"You made a mistake,"
Marcus whispered,
each word dripping with a lethal coldness,
"you thought you could play games with my wife's foundation."
"I was merely seeking a fair market adjustment,"
Sterling defended himself,
his voice cracking as he looked for help from his friends,
but they were all looking away,
terrified of Marcus's wrath.
"There will be no adjustments,"
Marcus stated flatly,
"you will sign the original lease agreement,
and you will do it tonight."
"And if I refuse?"
Sterling asked,
trying to find a shred of his aristocratic pride,
though his hands were visibly shaking.
Marcus leaned back,
a cruel,
humorless smile spreading across his lips,
as he pulled out a document from his coat.
"If you refuse,"
Marcus began smoothly,
"I will buy the bank that holds your family’s ancient estate,
foreclose on your mortgages by tomorrow morning,
and leave you with nothing but your useless titles."
Sterling stared at him in horror,
knowing that Marcus Vance had both the financial power and the utter ruthlessness to do exactly what he promised.
"I believe Julian has the papers and a pen,"
Marcus added,
stepping back and gesturing to his assistant,
May you like
"choose wisely,
my Lord."
