CHAPTER 2: THE WAR RETURNS
That night, I didn't sleep.
Every ten minutes, I checked on Lucas and Noah.
I watched them breathe.
I memorized their faces.
I tried to absorb seven years of fatherhood in a single night.
It was impossible.
The next morning, Emma handed me DNA results.
99.9999% probability.
Lucas Sterling.
Noah Sterling.
My sons.
For real.
I sat alone in my office trying not to cry.
Then security called.
“Mr. Sterling… Victor Kane is here.”
I went downstairs.
Victor stood beneath my company logo.
The same place my sons had stood the day before.
Life had a strange sense of humor.
“You've done well, Alexander,” he said.
I stared at him.
“You tried to kill me.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
I froze.
“What?”
Then he said something unexpected.
“I lied.”
He admitted that he threatened Emma because he wanted control of my company.
But he never ordered the accident.
Someone else did.
A man named Sebastian Volkov.
Victor looked terrified just saying the name.
“He’s dangerous,” Victor said.
“He wanted Sterling Industries.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Why?”
“Because your technology isn’t worth billions anymore.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Victor leaned closer.
“It’s worth trillions.”
My blood ran cold.
Then he explained.
For years, Sterling Industries had unknowingly developed one of the most advanced predictive AI systems in the world.
Technology capable of protecting entire cities.
Volkov wanted it.
And he would destroy anyone standing in his way.
Suddenly my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A calm voice spoke.
“Mr. Sterling.”
Everyone in the room froze.
“I’ve finally found your children.”
The line disconnected.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Something changed inside me.
For years, I had been a businessman.
Today…
I became a father.
And fathers become dangerous when their children are threatened.
I immediately activated every resource I owned.
Private security.
Cybersecurity teams.
Former intelligence consultants.
Lawyers.
Federal agents.
No expense spared.
Nobody was taking my family from me.
Not after losing eight years already.
But Volkov wasn't finished.
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He wanted one final confrontation.
And he wanted it face to face.
