Chapter 6 - The Confrontation
The sudden arrival shattered the tense stillness of the abandoned mill. The two enforcers blinked, momentarily disoriented by the mirror image standing before them under the flickering light.
"Evan?" one of the men muttered, his hand instinctively dropping toward the inside pocket of his jacket where a holster rested. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Step away from him," I repeated, my voice shaking with adrenaline as I stepped fully into the room, placing myself between the enforcers and Liam.
Liam pushed himself up slightly from the concrete pillar, wiping a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His gaze shifted rapidly between the enforcer and me, the confusion in his eyes cutting deeper than any physical blow.
"Who..." Liam’s voice was rough, strained from exhaustion. "Who the hell are you? Why do you look like me?"
"I’ll explain everything," I said without breaking eye contact with the men in suits. "Just stay behind me."
The lead enforcer let out a cold, humorless laugh. He shook his head, stepping forward with deliberate menace. "Mr. Sterling gave explicit orders. Loose ends get tied up. The boy comes with us, or he stays here permanently. And you, young master Evan... you’re coming home. Your father’s car is waiting two streets over."
"I’m not going anywhere with you," I said, my jaw clenching. "And neither is he."
"You don't have a choice," the enforcer snapped, lunging forward with surprising speed.
Before I could react, Liam moved. Despite his injuries, survival instinct took over. He shoved past me with a burst of raw, unpolished strength, tackling the lead enforcer squarely in the chest. Both of them crashed hard onto the concrete floor, sending a cloud of dust and rusted metal scraps flying into the air.
The second enforcer drew his weapon, leveling the barrel straight toward the scuffle.
"Don't move!" he shouted.
Without thinking, I grabbed a heavy iron pipe leaning against the office desk and swung it with all my might, striking the enforcer’s arm. The gun clattered out of his hand, skidding across the floor and plunging into a pool of rainwater near the wall.
The enforcer cursed, turning his fury toward me. He threw a heavy punch that caught me square in the jaw, sending me stumbling backward against a stack of wooden crates. Pain exploded across my face, the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth.
Across the room, Liam had managed to pin the first enforcer, but the second was now bearing down on me, closing the distance with brutal efficiency.
This is it, I thought. We’re trapped.
Then, the rusted metal doors at the front of the mill suddenly blew open with a deafening crash.
Bright headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the entire interior in a blinding white glare. The heavy roar of an engine echoed through the cavernous space. A sleek black SUV tore into the mill, its tires screeching to a halt just feet away from us.
The rear door flew open.
Victor Sterling stepped out of the vehicle.
He didn't look wet, despite the torrential rain outside. He didn't look panicked. He looked like a god walking among ruins, his presence alone commanding an absolute, suffocating silence.
The two enforcers instantly backed away, lowering their heads in deference.
Victor walked forward slowly, his polished leather shoes clicking against the wet concrete. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the scene—the bruised enforcers, the blood on my face, and finally, Liam, who was standing upright now, breathing heavily, staring at the man who had discarded him twenty-two years ago.
"Enough," Victor said. The single word carried enough weight to stop the world spinning.
He stopped a few feet away from Liam. For a long, agonizing moment, father and discarded son stared at one another. The resemblance between Victor’s sharp facial structure and Liam’s hardened features was undeniable.
"You've grown," Victor said softly, his voice devoid of warmth, yet laced with a strange, dark curiosity.
"And you haven't changed at all," Liam spat out, his voice shaking with a lifetime of resentment. "You threw me away like trash. You left me to rot in this shithole while he lived in a palace."
"I gave you life," Victor replied coldly. "And I ensured that the empire I built would not be torn apart by sentimentality. Weakness destroys dynasties, Liam. Look around you. You survived. That proves my judgment was correct."
"Survival isn't living," Liam stepped closer, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were stark white. "You stole my life. You stole my mother."
At the mention of Claire, Victor’s expression tightened fractionally.
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"Your mother believes you died at birth," Victor said flatly. "And that is how it will remain. Get in the car, Evan. We are going home."
"No," I said, pushing myself up from the crates, wiping the blood from my chin. I stood shoulder to shoulder with Liam, looking my father dead in the eye for the first time in my life. "I’m not going back to your lies, Father. And he isn't staying here."
