Chapter 5: The Sterling Summons

Chapter 5: The Sterling Summons

The viral fame was a strange, disembodied thing. For two days, Elara’s phone was a ceaseless storm of notifications, a buzzing, chirping monster that lived in her pocket. Her follower count had skyrocketed past fifty thousand, then a hundred. DMs flooded her inbox, a mix of heartfelt messages from women sharing their own breakup stories, creepy solicitations from men, and, most surprisingly, legitimate business inquiries. Small startups and established brands wanted to know who had designed the sleek, compelling logos featured for a mere two seconds in her video. Her "Upgrade" video had, in a bizarre twist, become the most effective piece of advertising for her freelance business she could have ever conceived.

Through it all, she maintained her quiet ritual. Each morning and each evening, she dutifully documented Rosie’s constitutional, composed her blank email, and sent the day’s deposits to Liam’s corporate inbox. The act was a grounding force in the whirlwind of her new online reality. It was her secret, the silent bassline thrumming beneath the loud, chaotic melody of her sudden popularity. It reminded her of the why.

Liam’s follow had been a declaration of war. He was watching. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to reclaim the narrative. The attack came on the third day, not as a public comment, but as a private message on Instagram, a coward’s medium.

Liam Sterling: Well, look at you. Guess I should be flattered. Didn't realize our breakup would be such a great springboard for your little career. Just don’t let a few likes go to your head. It’s a long way down.

The message was a classic Liam cocktail: one part condescension, one part veiled threat, with a twist of trying to take credit for her success. The old Elara would have felt the sting, the familiar burn of his casual cruelty designed to make her feel small. She would have typed out a long, furious reply, defending herself, trying to make him understand.

But the Elara who had sent over a dozen pictures of dog shit to a billionaire’s son simply read the message, her expression unmoving. She screenshotted it, sent it to Maya with a single yawn emoji, and then archived the chat without a reply.

She was about to block him when a thought, prompted by a flash of Julian Thorne's sensible advice, stopped her. Don't engage on his level. Let your work speak for itself. Ignoring him was a more powerful statement than any angry words she could muster. He wanted a reaction, wanted to know he still had the power to hurt her. She would give him nothing but silence.

Her professional inquiries, however, were a different story. She spent the entire day fielding emails, setting up calls, and drafting proposals. The animal shelter she had done the pro-bono work for called her, ecstatic, reporting a massive surge in donations and adoption inquiries after being tagged in her video. The feeling was intoxicating—the pure, unadulterated thrill of her own talent being recognized on its own merits.

The phone rang late that afternoon from an unknown number with a Manhattan area code. Assuming it was another potential client, she answered with her polished, professional greeting.

"Elara Vance Speaking."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Vance," a crisp, formal female voice replied. "My name is Katherine, and I'm calling from the executive office of Sterling Enterprises."

Elara’s blood ran cold. Her first thought was that Liam had sicced his father's lawyers on her for some imagined slight. Maybe he was suing her for custody of the dog. Her hand tightened on the phone. "How can I help you?" she asked, her voice impressively steady.

"I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Augustus Sterling," the woman continued, oblivious to the panic seizing Elara’s chest. Augustus Sterling. Liam’s father. A ruthless corporate titan known in the business world as 'The Shark'. A man who didn't make calls; he issued summons.

"Mr. Sterling's office was recently made aware of a viral video showcasing some of your branding and design work," Katherine explained. The words sounded absurd in her prim, corporate diction. "He was, and I quote, 'immensely impressed with the clean, modern aesthetic and clear market impact.' He is spearheading a major rebranding initiative for Sterling Enterprises and would like to meet with you to discuss a potential consulting contract."

Elara sank onto her sofa, her mind reeling. It didn't make sense. Augustus Sterling, a man who commanded legions of high-priced Madison Avenue advertising agencies, had seen her fifteen-second TikTok?

"My... my video?" she stammered, feeling completely out of her depth.

"That is correct, Ms. Vance. The one titled 'Upgrade'," Katherine confirmed, a hint of programmed politeness in her voice. "Mr. Sterling is not a man who cares for traditional channels. He cares for results, and he saw a clear result in your work. He is unaware of the… personal narrative of the video. He is only interested in the designer."

The monumental, cosmic irony of the situation hit Elara with the force of a physical blow. The very video that was a silent, defiant middle finger to Liam had become a professional beacon, attracting the attention of the one man Liam was most desperate to impress. Augustus hadn't just seen her work; he had seen it go viral, had seen the "market impact." He was a shark who smelled blood in the water—the blood of talent and success. And he had no idea that the brilliant designer he wanted to hire was the woman his own son had just discarded like trash.

"He would like to see you tomorrow morning. Ten a.m. At the Sterling Tower," Katherine stated. It wasn't a question. "A car will be sent for you at nine. Is this acceptable?"

Acceptable? The word was a joke. This was an imperial summons. It was the opportunity of a lifetime wrapped in the conflict of a lifetime. Walking into that building, into that office, would be walking directly into the heart of the territory she had spent the last seven years orbiting, but never truly entering. It would mean facing the source of all of Liam’s ambition and insecurity.

Her stomach churned with a nauseating mix of terror and a dark, exhilarating thrill. She thought of Liam’s smug, belittling message. It’s a long way down. He had no idea.

This was bigger than Project Brownout. This was bigger than a viral video. This was a chance to confront the Sterling empire not as Liam’s cast-off girlfriend, but as a sought-after talent, a professional peer. A chance for a revenge so complete, so deliciously corporate, that it made her petty email campaign look like child's play.

"Yes," Elara heard herself say, her voice clear and cold as steel. "That is acceptable. I'll be ready at nine."

As she hung up the phone, the silence of her house returned, but it was different now. It was no longer empty and suffocating. It was the charged, electric silence of a theater just before the curtain rises. The lion's den wasn't just a place of danger. It was a stage. And she was about to give the performance of her life.