Chapter 6: The King is Dead, Long Live the King

Chapter 6: The King is Dead, Long Live the King

The walk from the factory floor back to the Quality Control department was the most surreal journey of their lives. The procession was led by Robert Sterling, his powerful presence parting the few remaining factory workers like a ship's bow through water. Leo walked beside him, holding the Project Chimera binder not as a threat, but as a mantle of office. Behind them, the reinstated team followed, a silent, victorious army reclaiming its territory. Their faces were a mixture of shell-shock, dawning elation, and profound relief. David Chen walked with a straighter back than he had in a decade. Maria Rossi’s expression was one of grim satisfaction. And Clara Schmidt, though still pale, had a spark of light returning to her eyes.

Bringing up the rear, stumbling like a man in a trance, was Marcus. The thirty-thousand-foot view of the CEO had finally zoomed in on him, and the scrutiny was a crushing weight.

They reached the glass door of the department. The scene inside was a time capsule of their abrupt departure: half-packed boxes, abandoned coffee mugs, dark computer screens. It was a corporate graveyard, and they were the ghosts returning to haunt it.

As Robert Sterling pushed the door open and strode in, Marcus seemed to jolt back to life. A flicker of his old, delusional arrogance ignited in his eyes. He saw his uncle, the ultimate authority, standing in his office. He saw Leo, the insubordinate technician. In his twisted, entitled mind, he completely misread the situation. He thought the cavalry had arrived to save him.

“Uncle Robert, thank God you’re here,” Marcus blurted out, a desperate, wheedling tone entering his voice. He took a step forward, attempting to position himself beside his uncle, to present a united front of authority. “I knew you’d sort this out. It’s time to show this factory rat his place.” He jabbed a trembling finger towards Leo. “Call security. Have him and this whole pathetic mob of traitors thrown out. We can hire a new team tomorrow!”

Robert Sterling didn't even look at him. His gaze was fixed on Leo. “Mr. Vance,” he said, his voice cold as cryo-treated steel. “Is this the desk you will be using?” He gestured towards the large manager's desk inside the glass-walled office—the desk Marcus had occupied for less than two days.

“It is,” Leo confirmed, his tone even.

“Good,” the CEO said. He then turned, his entire formidable presence finally focusing on his nephew. The shift was so sudden and so absolute that Marcus physically recoiled.

“Uncle…” he stammered.

“Do not call me that,” Robert Sterling cut him off, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that was more terrifying than any shout. “In this building, you are an employee. Or rather, you were.”

The blood drained from Marcus’s face. “What? What are you talking about? I… I’m your family!”

“Family?” Robert Sterling took a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes burning with a pragmatist's fury. “Family does not incompetently endanger a hundred-and-twenty-million-euro asset out of sheer, pathetic ego. Family does not inspire mutiny through infantile bullying. Today, you are not my nephew. You are a catastrophic liability I am about to liquidate.”

He pulled out his phone and pressed a single button. “Security. To the QC office. Now.”

“No! You can’t do this!” Marcus pleaded, his voice cracking, the last vestiges of his bravado shattering into dust. “I’m your brother’s son! What will my father say?”

“Your father will say I did what was necessary to protect the company he holds stock in,” the CEO retorted without missing a beat. “You were given an opportunity. A chance to learn, to grow, to prove you were more than just a name. Instead, you behaved like a petty tyrant. You took a high-performing team and, in less than forty-eight hours, you drove them to rebellion and brought this plant to the brink of financial disaster.”

He gestured around the empty office. “Look at this. This is your legacy. An empty room and a bill for your own arrogance.”

Two uniformed security guards appeared at the door, their expressions impassive. They were large men, built to be intimidating, and their presence filled the doorway.

“Marcus Sterling,” Robert Sterling announced, his voice now ringing with the finality of a judge's gavel. “Your employment is terminated, effective immediately. Your final paycheck will be mailed to you. However, per the emergency clauses in your executive contract regarding gross negligence leading to significant financial risk, your severance package is forfeit.”

The final blow landed, and Marcus visibly crumpled.

“These men will escort you to your car. You will leave your company phone, your ID badge, and your keys on the desk. You will not speak to anyone. You are no longer welcome on this property.”

“But… my things…” Marcus whispered, looking at the expensive leather briefcase in his office.

“They will be boxed up and couriered to you,” the CEO said dismissively. “Now, get out of my sight.”

Marcus stood frozen for a moment, his face a mask of utter devastation. He looked at his uncle, at Leo, at the team who had defeated him. He saw no pity. No sympathy. Only the cold, hard face of justice. Defeated, he turned and allowed the security guards to flank him, leading him out of the department like a common criminal. The glass door swung shut behind him, the sound echoing the end of a short and disastrous reign.

The king was dead.

A tense silence filled the room. Robert Sterling turned back to Leo, his expression all business once more. “The department is yours, Mr. Vance. Your official promotion and salary adjustment will be processed by noon. Fix this.”

“We will, Mr. Sterling,” Leo said with quiet confidence.

The CEO gave a single, curt nod. He had seen the problem, identified the solution, and executed it with brutal efficiency. His work here was done. He and the other executives turned and left, leaving the department to its rightful inhabitants.

For a long moment, the team just stood there, breathing in the air of their reclaimed home. Then David Chen let out a long, slow whistle. “Well,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’ve waited twenty-five years to see something like that.”

A nervous laugh rippled through the group, breaking the tension. They had won. They had actually won.

Leo walked over to the manager’s desk and placed the Project Chimera binder squarely in the middle. He then turned to face his team. His team.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, his voice calm but infused with a new, undeniable authority. “Welcome back.” He looked directly at Clara, who was watching him with undisguised admiration. “Clara, on behalf of the entire company, I want to formally apologize for the treatment you were subjected to. It was unacceptable, and it will not happen again. Your work on the G-7 series components was exemplary, and I need you to finalize that draft by the end of the day tomorrow.”

A radiant, watery smile broke through on Clara’s face. It was more than an apology; it was a restoration of her dignity. “Yes, sir. Thank you, Leo.”

“Just Leo is fine,” he said gently, then addressed the entire group. “The CEO has approved my terms. All of them. That includes the bonus I promised you for your loyalty and for the distress this situation has caused. It will be substantial, and yes, it is being funded by Mr. Sterling’s forfeited severance package.”

A collective gasp, followed by a burst of incredulous laughter and cheers, filled the office. Justice wasn't just poetic; it was profitable.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Leo continued, his voice cutting through the celebration. “We have seventeen days to prepare for the most important audit in this company’s history. It’s going to be hard, and it’s going to be stressful. But we are going to do it together, as a team. We will show them what this department is really made of.”

He looked around at their faces—no longer beaten, no longer fearful, but energized, determined, and united. He saw respect. He saw loyalty. He saw the family Mr. Harrison had built, resurrected from the ashes.

The soft, familiar click of keyboards began to fill the silence, one by one. The hum of computers returned. The department was coming back to life, its heart starting to beat again, stronger than before. Long live the king.