The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire-Chapter 52: Sterling Constructions & Real Estate

The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the data wall behind him and the steady ticking of the antique clock by the bookshelf.

Miles sat at his desk, legs crossed, elbows resting lightly on the armrests of his leather chair. His eyes were sharp, distant—lost somewhere between the shadows of the past and the chaos of what was to come.

He reached for the phone. Dialed.

The line rang once.

"Hello, boss." Monica’s voice came through, clear and composed. "I’ve already arranged a team. The investigation’s underway."

Miles leaned back, listening.

"But... boss, if I’m being honest," Monica continued, her tone dropping, "I don’t think there’ll be any clues left. The event happened 17 years ago. The Tokyo trail was cold too. All we ever got was that single name... ’Old Master’."

Miles stared at the glass of untouched water on his desk. The surface perfectly still. His voice was low, but steady.

"It’s alright. If this so-called Old Master hates the Sterlings so much..."His eyes narrowed. "Then he’ll come for me. Eventually."

He stood slowly, walking over to the window, the city’s skyline painting a reflection across his face.

"And when he does... we’ll see if that ’Island’ he brags about—" he paused, a cold smirk forming, "—really protects him."

He turned away from the window. "Tell me. What’s Stone Enterprises’ biggest business holding right now?"

Monica didn’t skip a beat. "Construction, boss. They’ve got a reputation for high-end infrastructure across several countries. Dominant in ports, bridges, mega-structures. And the interesting part—"She hesitated. "It was built off your grandfather’s original framework. His legacy."

Miles’s expression turned still—then dark.

A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes. Not pain. Not anger.

Precision.

He clenched his right fist. "Then let’s strike where it hurts most."

He turned back to his desk, snatched his phone again. "Create a new mega construction project. Under Reaper Entertainment. Make it look like we’re branching into luxury real estate and infrastructure. Target location—"He tapped the map on the screen."—Star Harbor."

Monica whistled softly. "That’s prime real estate. Half the industry’s eyes are already there. If we circulate that news, Stone Enterprises will definitely show interest."

"Good. Start accepting quotations publicly. Build the buzz. Make it look legitimate."He paused." We’re setting a trap."

A short silence.

Then Monica asked cautiously, "What’s on your mind, boss? What’s the play?"

Miles’s voice dropped to a near whisper—steady, lethal.

"You’ll see. Just make sure the project is large. I mean absurdly large. The kind of scale that makes boardrooms sweat and sharks circle. The kind that demands a war chest."

Monica’s smile could be heard through the phone.

"Understood. Consider it done, boss. I’ll make it loud."

Miles slowly lowered the phone back into its receiver. He stood in silence for a moment, then walked over to the edge of the office where a framed photo of Edward Sterling sat on a display shelf—dustless, untouched.

He looked into his father’s eyes for a moment.

Then a faint, resolute smile tugged at his lips.

"Let’s get back... what was taken from us."He turned away, eyes blazing.

"Seventeen years ago."

The digital world map on the wall flickered silently, glowing faintly in the background. Red markers dotted regions of interest, while graphs of media influence and stock performance hovered like ghostly projections.

The office door opened swiftly.

June entered, tablet in hand, urgency in her steps.

"Boss, it’s happening—just like you expected." she said, pausing at his desk. "The Wraithbourne family is planning to shut down their weapons and arms division. Mr. Victor’s restructuring everything. It looks like he’s doing it for Miss Celina."

Miles turned from the screen slowly, his gaze sharpening.

"Hmm. He doesn’t want her involved in the underworld side of the empire. "He walked around the desk and leaned slightly against it, arms crossed. "I get it. Arms, weapons... the bloodstained backbone of power. Not something you want your daughter inheriting."

He exhaled quietly.

"They’ve expanded to other cities recently, diversified their investments." He nodded slightly, as if the pieces were falling into place in his mind. "So... Uncle Victor is carving a cleaner future for her. One with less shadows."

He looked up at June.

"Then why wait? Arrange a meeting with Uncle Victor. No backdoors. No proxies. We’re meeting officially."

June tapped quickly on her tablet. "Got it, boss. I’ll contact his office and send a formal request."

Miles turned, walking back to the screen. With a swipe, the display shifted to a high-definition 3D model of Star Harbor—undeveloped coastline glowing with potential.

"Also... it’s time. Start a new division."

He didn’t look at her when he said it.

"Sterling Construction and Real Estate."

June blinked, surprised. "Understood. I’ll initiate the legal formalities right away. Shall we begin acquiring materials, machinery, and hire specialists?"

Miles smiled—calm and cryptic. He turned slightly, his eyes meeting hers with quiet certainty.

"No need. Just register the name. That’s all."

June paused, puzzled. "But... boss? Then how—"

He held up a hand, eyes glinting.

"Don’t worry about that. "He stepped forward, slow and confident, voice dropping just enough to carry weight. "We already have everything."

June stared at him, trying to read beyond the words.

But Miles had already turned back toward the screen—calculating, moving pieces no one else could see.

Sterling Construction was born—not with concrete, but with intention.

And in his silence, the war for legacy had already begun.

Meanwhile...

Top Floor – Stone Enterprises Headquarters

The top floor of the Stone Enterprises tower felt like another world—far above the noise of the city, cloaked in luxury, silence, and secrets.

Inside a private cabin lined with black marble, floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the skyline—beautiful, distant, irrelevant to the two men seated inside.

Gibson Winstone leaned back in his custom leather chair, a half-empty glass of aged bourbon in hand. The man was the picture of power gone cold—silver hair slicked back, suit tailored to perfection, and a face carved by years of deals and betrayals. His eyes, however, were not tired. They were calculating.

Across from him sat Elfric Willise, older, quieter, far more dangerous. While Gibson projected power, Elfric radiated silence—the kind that made rooms uncomfortable. His grey suit was simple, unbranded. No tie. No emotion. The kind of man who could vanish from a boardroom and reappear in a war zone without anyone noticing.

The lights above were dim. Shadows moved with the city lights flickering below.

"Who is really running the new Sterling business?" Gibson asked, swirling the bourbon in his glass without drinking it. "Are they the same Sterlings... or something else?"

Elfric didn’t blink.

"The rumors say he’s Miles Sterling. Son of Edward Sterling But from what we were told—"He met Gibson’s gaze."—the boy died. Seventeen years ago. That’s what the Old Master said."

A silence stretched between them.

Gibson’s fingers drummed slowly on the glass.

"And yet... the Old Master is quiet. "He stood and walked toward the glass wall, gazing at the distant shape of The Cinder Square, where Sterling Enterprises stood. "Too quiet. Maybe this ’Miles’ is different. Or maybe the Old Master is planning something. We both know how deep his hatred for the Sterling name runs."

Elfric’s tone was flat. "Whatever it is... it doesn’t concern us—yet."

He stood as well, folding his arms behind his back.

"But we should look into this Sterling boy personally. Quietly."

Gibson nodded slowly, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Let’s see what ghosts rise when we dig."

Back at Sterling Enterprises, the atmosphere was a world apart—sharper, cleaner, and quietly dangerous.

June stepped briskly into Miles’s cabin, tablet in hand.

"Boss, the meeting is set. "She paused, a rare note of respect in her tone. "Chairman Victor is ready to see you now. He’s already in his office."

Miles closed the folder on his desk and stood with purpose. Black shirt. Clean cut. Calm fire in his eyes.

He glanced toward the map of Star Harbor still glowing faintly on the screen behind him.

"Then let’s go. "His voice was smooth, steady—but his eyes carried the weight of history and war.

As he walked out, the camera would track his back—straight, confident, the quiet echo of his shoes down the hallway signaling a man who no longer waited for the past to come knocking.

He was moving forward.

And behind every door he opened now—

—was a reckoning.

The Car glided through the city like a shadow, slipping between traffic with elegant precision. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, focused.

Miles sat in the backseat, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, eyes fixed ahead. Beside him, June adjusted her tablet, reviewing notes, but kept glancing up at the man beside her—composed, unreadable.

As the vehicle approached, the building came into view.

Wraithbourne Headquarters.

An architectural marvel. A towering structure of obsidian-tinted glass and steel, its sleek, curving lines stood like a blade carved into the skyline. The outer walls reflected the world, but let nothing in—like the family that owned it. A cascading waterfall flanked the grand entrance, and a golden emblem of the Wraithbourne crest—a phoenix rising through a serpent—stood boldly on display.

Security at the front was tight, but not flashy. Understated and lethal.The car rolled to a silent stop.

Miles stepped out first, eyes scanning the environment without effort. Calm. Controlled.

He instinctively extended a hand back—not to offer help, but to subtly walk June half a step behind him, shielding her from the line of sight of the guards posted near the entrance. A silent gesture. Protective. Commanding.

They entered through the main glass doors.

Reception Lobby – Wraithbourne HQ

The lobby opened up like the entrance to a private world. Marble floors so polished they reflected the ceiling, which was lined with intricate golden veins woven into dark panels. A towering sculpture of intertwining steel and obsidian rose from the center—a phoenix’s wing stretching toward the skylight above.

A small orchestra played soft classical music somewhere behind a glass wall café, and the air was subtly perfumed with something cold, rich, and exclusive.

Power had a scent.

June stepped forward toward the reception desk—her heels clicking crisply, voice even. "We have a meeting with Chairman Victor ."

The receptionist—a woman dressed in Wraithbourne’s signature black and gold—looked up.

A brief pause.

Then her eyes widened, just slightly.

"Good afternoon... Mr. Sterling." Her voice lowered with a mixture of surprise and formality. "The Chairman is expecting you."

She tapped her earpiece once, then gestured to the private elevator to the right.

"He’s waiting for you on the top floor. Please—go right ahead."

Miles offered a small nod. No words.

He stepped forward, June beside him once more, and the elevator doors parted as though the entire building responded to his presence.

As they entered, the glass doors slid shut behind them—sealing them inside a rising capsule of silence and anticipation.

The top floor awaited.

And so did Victor Wraithbourne.

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