The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire
Chapter 41: Sterlings are back???

Chapter 41: Sterlings are back???

The entire floor fell into a suffocating silence.

Every employee, every assistant, every voice that had been chatting or working a moment ago—froze. They turned, eyes wide, as Alaric Nile, one of the most influential tenants of the Cinder Square, stood face-to-face with a man they now realized held far more power than him.

The man they’d just seen greeted as Chairman.

Alaric’s mistake was hanging in the air like a blade.

Then footsteps echoed—Manager Mac arrived, his expression sharp.

"What’s happening here?" he demanded, voice firm. "Mr. Nile, I told you to wait in the guest lounge. The owner has only just arrived—"

Alaric scoffed, not even glancing at Mac. "In that case, you should throw this idiot out immediately," he snapped, pointing at Miles without even acknowledging who he was. "And let me make it very clear—if you so much as think about giving him a single floor, my company will vacate this building. Today."

A slow, cold shift took place.

Mac clenched his fists, visibly restraining himself. His voice was low and trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer pressure he felt having to witness this.

He glanced at Miles... waiting.

But Miles didn’t say a word yet.

Instead, he walked forward. Calmly. No rush, no aggression—just deliberate steps that made Ross instinctively take a step back.

Then Miles stopped in front of Ross, eyes locked.

"You said I bumped into you," he said quietly. "Even though we both know you weren’t watching where you were going."

Ross’s breath caught.

Miles leaned just slightly forward. "You said... you’d make sure I don’t get a floor here."

Then he turned, gaze now settling on Alaric Nile.

"And you," Miles said, voice just a little louder, "you threatened to move your company out if I even set foot here."

Alaric was about to speak—but Miles didn’t let him.

He raised a hand slightly and said, in a tone too calm to be casual:

"Manager Mac."

Mac immediately stepped forward. "Yes, Chairman?"

Miles kept his eyes on Alaric. "Terminate their contract. I want their company out of the Cinder Square. Effective immediately."

Gasps. All around the floor.

As the word "Chairman" echoed through the room, Alaric’s face went pale.

His breath caught in his throat.

It was as if the entire floor tilted beneath him—his ears ringing, vision blurring for a moment as the weight of his mistake crashed down.

Ross, too, was frozen. The arrogance in his eyes had vanished—replaced with the hollow stillness of realization. He had picked a fight with the man. The owner. The chairman. The one who held every key to their presence in the most powerful square of the city.

Silence engulfed the floor.

You could hear a pin drop.

Alaric stumbled forward, his pride shattering with each step.

He lowered his head, trembling, and bowed deeply toward Miles.

"C–Chairman... I—I sincerely apologize. We didn’t know—if we had known, we would never..." He gulped hard, voice quivering with desperation. "Please, sir, I beg you... don’t terminate the contract. It’s peak business season. We’ve invested millions—dozens of clients are expecting deliverables... Also, the termination... it will cost you money too. Please... have mercy."

His voice cracked.

But Miles remained unmoved—silent, composed, cold.

He walked a few paces, then turned his head slowly. The look in his eyes? Lethal calm.

"You said I was an idiot," Miles said, voice low, smooth as steel. "So I guess I don’t care about the losses."

He took a step forward.

"And as for tenants?" He gestured out toward the glass wall overlooking the city. "There are thousands waiting for a chance to get a floor in Cinder Square. People line up for months. You’re not irreplaceable."

He turned his gaze on Ross.

"You said You will see me right , you decided I didn’t belong here," Miles said, smiling coldly. "Now you’ll have all the time in the world to reflect on that mistake."

Ross couldn’t even respond—his lips parted, but no words came out.

Miles raised a hand slightly.

"Throw them out."

Mac didn’t wait.

"Yes, Chairman."

Immediately, security personnel stepped forward. There was no need to drag them—Alaric had already fallen to his knees. Ross stood stiff, like a man walking into a storm.

The guards guided them out with polite firmness, but there was no question who had power here.

The other employees watched silently, some whispering in disbelief.

A legend was unfolding before them.

Celina stood nearby, arms crossed, a smirk dancing on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

You really are something else, Miles Sterling, she thought.

And the floor of Cinder Square would never forget what they witnessed that day.

The floor finally returned to its normal rhythm, though a lingering hum of awe still buzzed beneath the surface.

Manager Mac exhaled with visible relief. "They deserved that," he muttered, then straightened. "I apologise again, Chairman, for letting them act out in your presence."

Miles adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his calm demeanor unshaken. "It’s not our fault," he said evenly. "We just don’t need people who lack the basic sense of judgment."

"Exactly," Celina chimed in, folding her arms with a huff. "They were unbelievably rude. Entitled."

Mac nodded. "So... what should we do with the seven floors, Chairman? Should we rent them out now?"

Miles turned, slowly walking toward the glass wall that overlooked the expanse of Cinder Square.

"Not quite," he said, hands in his pockets. "Shift floors 31 and 32 down. Reserve the top seven."

Mac blinked. "Reserve, sir? For whom?"

Miles didn’t turn. His voice came low and proud.

"For the Sterling Empire."

The entire floor paused.

It felt like the name dropped with the weight of thunder.

Then, slowly, Mac’s face lit up. He gave a sharp nod. "Of course, Chairman. Welcome back to business."

He turned to his assistant. "Get the signage team. I want a full-scale Sterling Enterprises board at the top of the tower by the end of today."

He looked back at Miles, eyes gleaming. "Let this city know—the Sterlings have returned."

Miles gave a soft nod. "Thank you, Manager Mac."

"I’ll ensure all current operations remain unchanged," Mac continued quickly, "only the floor restructuring will be executed as per your direction."

Miles raised a hand slightly. "And arrange a dinner party tonight—for all current employees. On me. Tomorrow’s the weekend—let them enjoy."

A wave of surprised murmurs rippled through the room. Then in unison:

"Thank you, Chairman!"

Mac gave a deep bow. "Thank you, sir."

Miles turned to Celina, who had watched it all—half-stunned, half-entertained.

He tilted his head and grinned. "You wanted to meet the new owner, didn’t you? So, Miss Wraithbourne... how may I help you?"

Celina squinted at him with mock irritation. "You..."

Miles chuckled. "Shall we go downstairs?"

They both exited the floor together, taking the elevator to the ground lounge.

As the doors opened, Celina stepped out, shaking her head. "That was quite a scene up there."

Miles walked beside her, calm as ever. "Sometimes... it’s important to show power. To remind people who’s in charge."

Celina nodded slowly. "I agree."

Miles gave her a side glance. "Well, I’ve made your job easier. You can tell Uncle Victor not to worry about that floor anymore."

He smirked. "The connection’s already in place."

Celina sighed with a smile. "I don’t know how he’s going to react to this..."

They both laughed together, stepping into the

sunlit square below—the empire of the past reborn around them.

As the sun dipped beyond the city’s horizon, Friday evening brought life to Cinder Square in a way few places ever witnessed.

The towering skyline blazed with lights. Street lamps flickered on in synchronized precision, illuminating walkways paved with polished stone. Glass buildings reflected the golden-orange hue of twilight, now slowly giving way to night. Music spilled softly from open-air cafes, the scent of roasted coffee and sizzling gourmet dishes wafting into the streets.

Crowds of people poured in—businessmen in rolled-up sleeves, families out for a weekend treat, couples walking hand-in-hand. Teenagers clustered near bubble tea stands, laughter echoing across the plaza. Buskers performed along the fountain’s edge, drawing claps and scattered cheers.

But tonight, something had changed.

Something new had risen above them all.

The centerpiece of attention wasn’t the elegant shopping galleries, the 7-star rooftop restaurants, or the cinema with gold-trimmed lounges.

No.

All eyes were drawn upward.

Above the tall central tower of the square—formerly the defining mark of the district—there now gleamed a massive new sign. Bold, gleaming letters made of polished obsidian metal and lined with platinum inlays.

STERLING ENTERPRISES

It wasn’t just signage—it was a symbol. The letters shimmered with soft white backlighting, outlining each curve and edge with radiant clarity. They glowed even from miles away, piercing through the haze of the city like a crown atop the skyline.

Cameras clicked. People stopped mid-step, pointing. Cars slowed down as passengers stuck their heads out, whispering in curiosity.

"Sterling Enterprises? When did that get put up?"

"Isn’t that the same name from last night’s charity event?"

"Wait... isn’t that the guy who donated fifty million?"

"Sterling... weren’t they gone for decades?"

The conversations stirred across the plaza like wildfire. Videos were posted online. Social media flooded with pictures captioned: ’Sterling is back?’, ’Power move or myth?’, ’Young CEO alert?!’

Even from nearby skyscrapers, people leaned against the glass just to catch a glimpse of the sign.

It wasn’t just branding.

It was a declaration.

The empire had returned—louder, stronger, and prouder than ever before.

And as Miles’s car quietly turned out of the underground exit ramp toward home, he caught a glimpse of that sign in his rearview mirror.

A small smile crossed his face.

The world was starting

to notice.

And it was just the beginning.