2. Sterling
CHAPTER 2
Sterling
I ’m immensely skilled at tuning people out. Filtering irrelevant information is a talent I’ve come to hone over the years. I’m currently seated at the head of a long boardroom table, and there are several other men in chairs that run the length of the table in front of me. Each of them are in crisp suits befitting their positions as executives of my family’s company. And they’re yelling, talking over each other—an attitude that is decidedly not befitting their position.
They’ve thus far ignored my attempts to silence them so I’m sitting quietly, my fingers tapping against the table, as I wait for them to shut the hell up. Truthfully, my attempt to silence them would be much more successful if I had any idea what to even say.
This is a mess.
That’s all I’ve been able to think since last night. Since the news broke. If it were anything else, any other problem, I would have come up with several solutions. But considering the root of the problem is none other than myself, I’m coming up blank. I haven’t even begun to come to terms with the news.
“Mr. Harrington,” a voice says sharply, breaking through the haze.
My gaze lifts, landing on a bulky man in a navy blue suit and a short, neatly trimmed mustache. Wellis Barton. He’s the head of financials in the company, a capable man who’s really good at his job.
I arch an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.
“Despite the news breaking just last night, we’re already seeing a sharp decline in the company’s stock prices. There have been several calls from stockholders, questions which we have no answer to. This is a PR nightmare. What is the company’s stance on this… tasteless rumor? I believe the first step is to put out a press release.”
My chest rises and falls as I consider his words. What the fuck do they expect me to say? I only just found out about the article last night. I haven’t even begun to form an opinion on this entire debacle. I tend to do that when something doesn’t make sense—put it off, ignore it for as long as I can. Clear my mind until I can come up with a valid solution or explanation.
To be fair, the fastest way to do so would probably be answering my father’s calls. He’s been trying to reach me all morning. I’ve been putting off the hard conversation, though. I’m terrified of what he’ll have to tell me. I’m angry because if it’s true then that means my mother has once again done something unforgivable.
I’ve been a Harrington the past twenty-eight years of my life, and now it feels like I’m about to lose that vital part of my identity.
What’s even more worrying is that the blog that put up the article is known for its fact-checking. If it was a bold-faced lie to garner views, it wouldn’t be such a problem. But it’s not. There’s even an undisclosed source assuring them that my identity as a Harrington is nothing more than a fraud.
My voice is steadier than I feel when I finally speak. “Since this news was obviously meant to destabilize the company, I think the last thing we should be doing is panicking.”
“What would you suggest we do in lieu of panicking , Mr. Vice President?” a bald, green-eyed man spits.
The scorn in his voice is clear as day. Michael Lawson is a bigwig executive who owns a lot of company shares. When it comes to the company’s succession, he’s also firmly on my brother’s team. I’m sure he’s just thrilled about this whole mess.
The room falls silent, all eyes turning to me, anticipation heavy in the air. I take a deliberate breath, steadying myself.
“Thank you for your concern, Michael,” I reply, my voice unwavering. “Our immediate priority is to manage the narrative. I’ve already instructed our public relations team to prepare a statement addressing the allegations. Concurrently, we’re initiating an internal review to ascertain the source of this leak and its validity.”
There are a few murmurs of agreement.
Michael’s brow arches skeptically. “And what if the allegations hold merit? How do you propose we salvage the company’s standing then? The subject of your paternity directly impacts the line of succession, which has a lot to do with the strength of our leadership and the integrity of our projects. I know you’re trying to be positive, Sterling , but people will wonder—if you’re not really a Harrington, do you even have a right to be in that position?”
I stiffen at that, my jaw clenching. The boardroom’s atmosphere grows increasingly charged, tension coiling like a tightened spring. Michael’s words hang in the air. I feel a surge of anger, my composure threatening to fracture. Just as I open my mouth to respond, the double doors swing open with decisive force.
Sebestian Harrington, my grandfather and the esteemed chairman of Harrington Holdings, strides into the room. Seventy-five years old and he remains a commanding presence. His tall, lean frame is impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit, exuding both authority and timeless elegance. His thick silver hair is combed back with precision, and piercing brown eyes undimmed by age survey the room with a discerning gaze that misses nothing.
The room falls into an immediate hush, the previous clamor silenced by his mere presence. Sebestian’s voice, though softened by time, carries an undeniable authority.
“This meeting is adjourned,” he declares, his tone brooking no argument. He turns his attention to Michael, who visibly recoils under the scrutiny. “Regardless of any personal conjectures, Sterling’s position as vice president is a result of his unwavering dedication and the substantial contributions he has made to this company. His role is both earned and deserved, not because of his last name or blood relations.”
I wince at that last part. My grandfather might have openly supported me with that little speech, but he’s the same man who taught me to play chess when I was six. He taught me how to expect your opponent’s moves before they’re made, to read between the lines.
He might as well have confirmed the rumors with that last statement.
I feel fucking ill.
His gaze shifts to me. “Sterling, may I have a word in my office?”
I rise, the weight of the board’s collective stare pressing heavily upon me. We ride the elevator up to his office in silence, neither of us saying a word until we’re safely tucked away from the rest of the world. As soon as we’re inside, my grandfather reaches for the bottle of whisky on the counter in the dimly lit office.
He pours himself a glass before moving to sit down. I stay standing with his desk, a monolith of dark mahogany, between us, its surface meticulously organized. He sits with his back straight, eyes sharp and unyielding.
I decide to speak first, in a bid to control the conversation just like he taught me.
“Is it true?” I ask, feeling the tension coiling through me tighten.
My grandfather’s expression doesn’t waver. He takes a sip of his whisky, pauses to contemplate his words.
“Genetics are a funny thing, Sterling,” he begins, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. “My son Steven is the complete opposite of me. While I worked hard to build this company from the ground up as a teen, he was born into a life of luxury. He doesn’t understand the importance of hard work and he’s refused to take up a mantle that should be rightfully his. Lazy, uninspiring, and unambitious. Your father’s never done a thing to support me or this company.”
His lips are curled up distastefully. I have no idea where he’s going with this. I’m very aware of how complicated their relationship is. Dad’s never had an interest in the company, and my grandfather has always held it against him. They orbit around each other, my father bearing the weight of his disappointment seemingly easily. Like he doesn’t care.
That’s one thing I’ve always admired him for. Steven Harrington may be lazy, uninspiring, and unambitious like my grandfather said, but he’s always lived his life on his own terms. It takes courage to do that, especially with a father like Sebestian.
“And then there’s Spencer, your older brother,” Grandfather continues. “He’s in many ways like your father. But Spencer has something he doesn’t, and that is ambition. He might not have the skills or the fortitude, but he does have the ambition and he knows what he wants. He knows what he’s owed.”
Those words sting. Owed? Considering the way he’s lived his life, Spencer isn’t owed a damn thing and everyone knows this. The only thing he has is his position as the first-born son, but that’s not justification for what he believes should be rightfully his. Spencer and I have been pitted against each other since birth, and the simple truth is that I’ve always been better than him. And that’s been okay, until now.
My throat tightens.
“Are you saying Spencer’s owed the company?”
Sebestian’s eyes narrow. “Don’t be so simple-minded, Sterling. Do you not understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Sure I do. You’re saying while my father and my brother are your blood, they’re nothing like you. Which means I am decidedly not your blood?”
A muscle pulses in his jaw but he doesn’t confirm my statement.
“Talk to your parents, Sterling.”
“They’re in Mykonos,” I reply. My parents spend more time off U.S. soil than they do on it.
“I’m sure they’ll return eventually.”
My eyebrow arches. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”
“You’re an intelligent man, Sterling,” he states, leaning back against his chair. “Which is why I know you understand that for the sake of the company’s stability and impending acquisition, which is worth millions of dollars, it would be prudent for you to step back temporarily. Public scrutiny can be detrimental and we cannot afford distractions at this juncture.”
My hand curls into fists. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Temporarily,” he emphasizes. “You and I both know that it’s the best move we can make right now. At least until the acquisition is over. Go home, to Edenton. Take a breather for a couple of weeks. And if you’d still like to work, you can take over as executive manager at the company’s branch in Edenton.”
He can use all the flowery words he’d like, but it’s pretty clear I’m being sidelined. This cannot be fucking happening to me. Not after how much I’ve dedicated myself to this company. I’ve worked hard all my life to uphold this family’s legacy.
And now it’s becoming clear it might not be my legacy after all.
“I understand,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. What choice do I have but to comply? Grandfather’s word is law. “I’ll do what’s necessary for the company.”
He gives me a curt nod, his expression unchanging. “As expected, Sterling. I’m sure you’ll make the necessary arrangements as well.”
With that, he dismisses me and turns his attention to the documents on his desk, signaling the end of our conversation. The sting of his words linger as I leave his office. When my phone rings for the twentieth time today, I decide to finally pick up.
“Father,” I say, my voice cold.
“Hey, bud. How’s it going?” he questions warmly.
I lean against the wall, suddenly extremely exhausted. At this point, I don’t give a damn who sees me like this.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Where’s my mother?”
“She’s, uh… currently occupied.”
I roll my eyes. “I take it she’s enjoying her vacation then. Meanwhile I’m here having to deal with the fallout of her actions.”
He pauses. “You’re my son, Sterling. You know that, right? No matter what anyone else says.”
Something burns in my chest at his words.
“I know,” I murmur. “When will you be returning?”
“In about a week or so. Your mother is still feeling a little ill.”
“Of course she is,” I say, not believing that in the slightest.
Elana Harrington is probably going to put off dealing with this mess for as long as she can. It’s what she does best.
“Just take care of yourself, alright? Dad told me he’s sending you to Edenton. It might be good for you. Try to rest a little, Sterling. You work too hard.”
“Got it.”
My gaze lifts just as the elevator doors in the hallway swing open. My lips thin when I catch sight of who steps out of it, but a chuckle follows as soon as he sets his eyes on me as well.
“Would you look who it is. Baby brother. I was hoping I’d run into you.”
Irritation coils through me like a lash. He’s the last person I wanted to see right now.
“Spencer’s here,” I tell my father who’s still on the other end of the phone.
I slowly straighten to my full height as he walks toward me. I’ve always been two inches taller than him, one of the various victories I’ve had over him all our lives. Everything has been a competition with Spencer for as long as I can remember.
“Tell him not to be a dickhead,” Dad states.
I scoff. “I doubt he’s capable. Must be those genes.”
“Hey, don’t insult our stellar genes, smartass.”
Despite everything, I manage a small smile. “Bye, Dad.”
“Chin up, buddy.”
He hangs up before I finally turn my attention to my dickhead of an elder brother. Standing beside him is none other than his biggest dick rider, Michael Lawson. I don’t pay any mind to the man, instead facing my brother with a blank expression.
“I take it Grandfather called you back from Japan?”
“Yeah, and I hear you’re being kicked out. Shame, isn’t it?” False sympathy coats his voice.
Spencer and I actually look a lot alike, a fact that I’ve always hated. We share a lot of similar facial features with our mother. The most prominent difference however, is the color of our eyes.
“I don’t have time to talk to you right now,” I say dismissively, placing my phone in my jacket pocket.
“No, no. I’ve had to endure your gloating each time I’ve been sent away from the company. You don’t get to stop me from doing the same to you.”
My jaw tightens as I stare straight at him. “Okay then, Spencer. Gloat,” I prompt.
He shifts forward, and his expression would be intimidating if I wasn’t immune. His voice drops an octave lower so that only I can hear what he’s saying.
“How does it feel to have the confirmation that you don’t belong? I always knew, Sterling. Everyone always knew. They all just ignored it but now that it’s all out in the open, there’s no more hiding from the truth. The reality of who you are.”
“It doesn’t matter who I am, Spencer. What matters is who you’ll never be. What you’ll never be. And the truth is, you’ll never be better than me,” I say, my voice low and cold.
He smirks. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for a bastard.”
And that does it. My vision tunnels and I’m swinging before I can think twice about it, my fist landing on his jaw with a loud thwack. There are a few gasps from employees that are milling about in the hallway.
Spencer stumbles backward but there’s a big, bright smile on his face because he got exactly what he wanted—provoking a reaction out of me.
“Seeing how you just lost your cool for the first time in your life, baby brother,” Spencer says, massaging his jaw, “I’d say it’s pretty clear just how much all of this is affecting you. Have fun in Edenton. You just might not get to come back here.”
With those words he walks away, toward grandfather’s office. I curse softly under my breath, hating every single thing under the goddamn sun. Well, everything to do with one person. Once I’m safely in my office, I exhale a soft breath. And then I’m making the preparations to head home to Edenton.