Chapter 156: The Devil’s Sister Is The New Boss
Anastasia and Damian walked down the staircase, dressed for the corporate day ahead. Ana adjusted the lapel of her tailored blazer, while Damian fastened the platinum cufflinks on his dark sleeves, his posture rigid and commanding.
As they reached the ground floor, both halted.
Sitting casually at the marble breakfast island... sipping freshly brewed porcelain cups of tea with pastries laid out across silver platters... were Victoria and Valerie.
They looked completely at home, chatting quietly as if they held the lease to the penthouse themselves.
"Good morning, Victoria! Valerie, good morning," Ana greeted warmly, a look of genuine surprise crossing her face as she stepped off the final tread.
Damian’s jaw hardened. He stepped past Ana, his obsidian gaze narrowing sharply as he looked at the pair.
"Why are you here?" Damian demanded, his voice flat and cutting through the quiet morning air. "You have your own townhome across town. Did Walter forget how to lock my private elevator?"
Victoria set her teacup down with an authoritative, measured clink, completely unbothered by his icy tone. She rose from her stool, her expression stern as she leveled a sharp look between Damian and Anastasia.
"You have some nerve asking why I’m here, Damian," Victoria scolded, her gaze piercing.
"Both of you kept me completely in the dark. Your surgical stitches tore open two days ago, you were rushed into an emergency procedure, and you explicitly barred me from the hospital floor. How dare you lock your own mother out while you’re bleeding out on an operating table?"
"The safe house was already compromised," Damian replied coldly, leaning an arm against the edge of the island, indifferent to her outrage.
"A line of Sterling family members descending on an emergency surgical ward would have drawn every camera and every syndicate tail within twenty miles."
Victoria let out a long, weary sigh, the anger on her face giving way to the raw, familiar worry of a mother. She rubbed her temples, looking up at her towering, stubborn son.
"You always have an operational excuse," Victoria murmured, shaking her head. "I was worried sick about you. And since you refuse to stay in bed and insist on dragging yourself back into that shark tank of a tower, I am not leaving your recovery to chance."
Victoria gestured toward Valerie, who was practically vibrating on her stool.
"Until you are back on your feet and those stitches are out, Valerie will stick with you," Victoria announced firmly. "She will shadow you at Sterling Tower, manage your vitals, and ensure you don’t overexert yourself."
"Absolutely not," Damian snapped instantly, his dark brows drawing tight. "I run a multinational empire, not a nursery. I do not need a sloppy, distracted aide hovering over my shoulder during executive meetings."
Valerie gasped in mock offense, clutching her heart before her lips curled into a smug, triumphant grin. She hoisted a bright pink iPad from the counter, practically beaming with leverage.
"I am not sloppy, brother dear," Valerie said with feigned innocence, batting her eyelashes. "I’m a licensed health management intern, and I am going to take such good care of you. Starting with hourly anti inflammatory teas and zero double shot espressos."
Damian looked like he was ready to fire his entire security detail on the spot.
Victoria ignored his lethal glare, turning her attention directly to Anastasia. Her tone softened with polite matriarchal authority. "Anastasia, darling... are you all right with this? With Valerie staying here at the penthouse with you two for a few days to keep him in check?"
A burst of giggles escaped Ana’s lips before she could hide it behind her hand. Delighted by the rare sight of an utterly powerless Damian, she nodded immediately.
"I think it’s a wonderful idea, Victoria. Truly. We would love to have her," Ana answered brightly.
"Anastasia, do not encourage this," Damian warned in a low, dangerous rasp, his eyes snapping to his wife with dark promises of retribution. "Valerie is not stepping one foot inside the executive suite, and she is certainly not moving her bags into my penthouse."
"Her bags are already in the guest room, Damian," Victoria countered smoothly, picking up her toast with a serene smile. "Sit down, drink your juice, and accept defeat. Your sister is coming to work with you."
Damian continued to argue... threatening security reassignments, corporate bans, and immediate dismissals... while Valerie smugly queued up hourly timers on her tablet and Ana cheerfully poured coffee.
By the time breakfast wrapped up, the ruthless titan of Sterling Enterprises had lost the battle entirely.
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Cameras flashed in a blinding frenzy the instant the armored car pulled up to the curb outside Sterling Tower.
Reporters surged against the velvet stanchions, held back only by a wall of private security guards. The heavy door swung open, and Damian stepped onto the pavement.
He looked every bit the untouchable corporate image... tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably cut in midnight navy, his stone cold expression daring anyone to question his authority.
He turned, offering a gloved hand to guide Anastasia out beside him. She stepped into the daylight radiant and poised, her hand resting naturally against his arm.
The ruthless, untouchable mystique lasted precisely four seconds.
"Damian! Shorter strides, remember the lower suture tension!" Valerie’s cheerful voice pierced cleanly through the roar of shutter clicks as she scrambled out of the trailing SUV.
Valerie jogged up behind them, a canvas tote slung over her shoulder, clutching an insulated thermos and a digital pulse reader in plain view of sixty financial journalists.
"Mr. Sterling! Is it true you underwent emergency surgery?" A reporter shouted over the din. "Who is the young woman carrying the medical tote?"
Damian’s jaw twitched, a vein feathering at his temple.
Without breaking stride, he pulled Anastasia a fraction closer to his hip, ignoring his sister with the practiced stamina of an older brother on the brink of homicide. "Keep walking," he muttered under his breath, his voice like grinding glass.
Ana pressed her lips together, her shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter as they swept through the grand revolving doors and into the marble atrium.
The lobby fell to an immediate, respectful hush as the staff parted for their CEO. But just past the security turnstiles, standing near the elevators with an armful of marketing decks, was Marcus.
The young marketing executive brightened the moment his eyes landed on Anastasia. "Ana! You’re back..." Marcus took two eager steps forward, his expression full of genuine relief. "I read the press releases, but I wanted to make sure you were actually okay after..."
Marcus froze in the middle of his sentence.
Damian had come to a dead halt directly in front of him.
The billionaire towered over Marcus, his obsidian eyes flat, lethal, and radiating pure, territorial malice. Damian didn’t utter a single syllable; he merely rested his left hand casually against the small of Anastasia’s back, fingers splaying wide in an unmistakable, possessive claim.
The temperature in the lobby plummeted instantly.
Marcus swallowed hard, the color draining from his cheeks as he took an involuntary half-step backward. "Uh... Welcome back, Mr. Sterling. Good morning, Anastasia."
"Morning, Marcus," Ana said smoothly, clearing her throat to break the suffocating silence before Damian could publicly execute him with a look. "I’ll resume my work as of today by reviewing the quarterly campaign briefs at ten."
Before Damian could issue a low growled warning, Valerie wedged herself right between her brother and the terrified marketing associate.
"Great work, everyone, but Mr. Sterling’s standing heart rate just spiked fifteen beats per minute, which means we are taking the private elevator right now," Valerie announced briskly, waving the pulse reader like a hall monitor badge.
She gave Damian a stern poke in his uninjured shoulder. "Move it, titan of industry. Your turmeric tea is getting cold."
Ana finally broke, letting out an audible snort of laughter.
Damian closed his eyes, drawing in a long, deeply suffering breath, before casting one last dark, murderous glare at Marcus and turning toward the private lift.
_______________________
The frosted glass doors of the executive suite swung open, and Valerie swept into the outer reception area like a miniature hurricane wrapped in pastel cashmere.
Henry, Damian’s impeccably poised, fifty something executive secretary, rose from his desk with a practiced, deferential bow. "Good morning, Mr. Sterling. Welcome Ms. Sterling. I have the Thornton severance briefs and the quarterly audit files ready for..."
"Cancel the espresso, Henry," Valerie interrupted, snapping her fingers with effortless flair as she dumped her oversized canvas tote directly onto his pristine mahogany blotter.
Henry froze, his silver pen hovering an inch above his leather daily planner. He blinked, looking from the bright canvas tote to Damian, whose expression was rapidly darkening into pure thunder.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Sterling?" Henry asked, adjusting his wire rimmed glasses in polite bewilderment.
"You heard me, Henry, darling," Valerie said, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder and tapping her pink iPad with acrylic-tipped precision.
She puffed out her chest, radiating pure, haughty diva energy. "Mr. Sterling is on strict metabolic and anti-inflammatory protocol until Dr. Caldwell clears his sutures. That means zero double macchiatos, zero high-sodium takeout, and under no circumstances is he permitted to work past seven."