The humid air of the Newport gala smelled of expensive cologne and old money. Arthur Sterling leaned against his 2005 sedan, the engine clicking as it cooled. He wore a suit that was clean but clearly off-the-rack—a sharp contrast to the parade of Lamborghinis and Rolls-Royces gliding past him.
"Move that piece of junk, Arthur," a voice sneered.
Arthur didn't need to look up to know it was his older brother, Julian. Julian stood there in a $10,000 bespoke tuxedo, his arm wrapped around a socialite who looked at Arthur with visible disgust.
"The help uses the back entrance," Julian continued, tossing his keys at Arthur's chest. Arthur caught them without looking. "Park my car. And try not to get your 'poor' on the leather."
Arthur looked at the keys—a Ferrari. He'd owned the company that manufactured the carbon fiber for that chassis, though Julian would never know.
"I'm here as a guest, Julian. Father invited me," Arthur said calmly. His voice had a weight to it that didn't match his young face—a resonance that came from two centuries of watching empires rise and fall.
"Father invited you out of pity," Julian laughed, leaning in close. "You're the 'Trash Second Master.' You bring nothing to the Sterling name. No business deals, no connections, just... this." He gestured vaguely at Arthur's car.
Arthur simply smiled. It was a small, dangerous tilt of the lips. "Connections are relative, brother."
As Julian walked away, laughing, Arthur's phone vibrated in his pocket. It was an encrypted line.
"Speak," Arthur whispered.
"Sir," a voice came through—Marcus, the CEO of the Shadow Group, a man world leaders waited months to see. "The Dragon Corp has officially moved against the Sterling family's shipping ports. Your father is panicking. He's about to lose 40% of the family's net worth by midnight."
Arthur watched Julian enter the ballroom, waving to cameras. "Let them sweat for an hour," Arthur said, his eyes turning cold. "Then, buy the debt. I want the Sterling family to realize that the 'junk' in the parking lot is the only thing keeping them from the streets."
"Understood, Sovereign. And the girl?"
Arthur's gaze shifted to the edge of the gardens, where a girl in a simple, handmade dress was being barred entry by security. Elena. Even from a distance, he could feel the cooling 'Yin' energy radiating from her—the only thing in this world that could settle the burning 'Yang' fire in his veins.
"I'll handle the girl myself," Arthur said, straightening his cheap tie. "It's time to show this 'Royal' party what real power looks like."