First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Ethan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in Eamon’s tone. He leaned forward, trying to claw back control with a chuckle that sounded too rehearsed. ”Now, let’s not be hasty. I’m offering Sterling’s legacy here. Do you realize how valuable it is to hold a corporation with this kind of history?”

Eamon placed both elbows on the table, folding his hands together, and his gaze locked on Ethan like a predator finally done playing. His voice was calm, but the words carried weight that made the air feel heavier.

”History doesn’t pay dividends. Investors don’t care about your legacy—they care about growth. And right now, Sterling isn’t growing. It’s bleeding.” He tapped the contract with a finger, almost dismissively. ”Every clause you’ve written here is a leash meant to keep you in control of something you’ve already lost. Authority without accountability. Rights without results. It’s pathetic.”

Ethan’s jaw twitched. ”Careful—”

”No,” Eamon cut in sharply, his voice low but merciless. ”You’ll listen. The corporation name will change. You will have no executive authority. Power of attorney? Gone. Sterling will be gutted and rebuilt from the ground up, or it will rot. And as for this price—ten billion USC?” He gave a short laugh, cold and cutting. ”For a corpse dressed in fine clothes? You’re delusional.”

Angel’s eyes widened. She’d never expected Eamon to be like this, but with Xavier’s same unnerving certainty, like every word was already fact.

Ethan tried again, reaching for that salesman’s smile, but it cracked at the edges. ”Sterling still holds weight in the markets. Investors will line up once they see the value. Don’t underestimate—”

”Investors?” Eamon leaned forward, voice dropping to a blade’s whisper. ”Do you know what happens when no one steps forward? When every door you knock on stays closed? Sterling collapses. Your employees scatter to hungrier companies. Your rivals carve up what’s left. And you—” He pointed a finger directly at Ethan, steady and unwavering. ”—become a footnote. A man who clung to power until there was nothing left to cling to.”

Silence swallowed the room. Ethan’s face was pale now, his hands tense around the armrest. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he couldn’t find words that would stick.

Eamon leaned back at last, calm restored, but his presence loomed larger than ever. ”The only question left is whether Sterling fades quietly under my hand, or whether it burns down around you. Either way, your time at the top is over.”

Angel stole a glance at Ethan—his once smug posture shattered, his control slipping through his fingers—and then back at Eamon, stunned at how effortlessly he had crushed the balance of the room.

Ethan’s mask finally cracked. His hands slammed on the table, rattling the glasses of water. His voice came sharp and venomous, stripped of its fake charm.

”You think you can walk in here, belittle my company, me, and throw scraps on the table like I’m desperate?!” His eyes burned as he leaned forward. ”Sterling is still a titan, with assets across half our goddamn solar system. You don’t get to dictate terms like some savior swooping in. You need me—don’t forget that!”

Angel tensed, ready to intervene, but Eamon didn’t even blink. He stayed seated, calm, his hands folded neatly in front of him as though Ethan’s outburst hadn’t even registered. When he finally spoke, his words cut sharper than any shout.

”No, Ethan. I don’t need you. And I don’t need Sterling.” His tone stayed cold, methodical, a surgeon peeling back layers of pretense. ”Let’s talk numbers. Last year’s revenue was barely half of what your father projected to shareholders. Market value has plummeted thirty-two percent in just the last quarter. The company is sitting on more debt than cash flow, and your settlements with three former partners are still unresolved. And after your father’s arrest and death... Sterling Corp isn’t a titan. That’s a corpse with a crown.”

Ethan’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Eamon pressed on, merciless. ”I’m not here to revive your company. I’m here to strip it, recycle its assets, and use what’s left as fertilizer for something stronger. And for that?” He finally leaned back, eyes glinting. ”One billion USC. That’s all it’s worth.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Angel’s chest tightened; she could feel the pressure in the air, like the whole room was balancing on a knife’s edge.

Ethan’s face twisted, disbelief and fury boiling together. ”One billion?! You insult me. You insult Sterling!” He shoved the contract back across the table. ”I won’t sell for scraps! You think I’ll sit here and—”

”—and what?” Eamon cut in, voice sharp as a blade. ”Threaten me? Set traps? Burn the contract in front of me?” His eyes narrowed, dangerous. ”Do it. None of it will change the truth. No one else is coming. No one else will bid. You’ve already lost, Ethan—you just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Ethan froze, chest heaving. He wanted to argue, to claw back some ground, but Eamon’s words left no room to move. Every attempt was countered, every escape sealed off.

Angel looked at Ethan’s trembling hands, his fury barely contained, and then at Eamon—calm, ruthless, unstoppable. It wasn’t a negotiation anymore. It was an execution.

Ethan leaned back, trying to stitch his mask together again. His voice came low, almost wheedling, but his eyes still burned with defiance.

”Five billion. That’s my counter. Sterling is worth at least that much, even in its current state. You want the deal, you pay for it.”

Eamon didn’t even flinch. His hand tapped the contract once. ”One and a half.”

Ethan blinked. ”What?”

”One point five billion USC,” Eamon clarified, his tone dry, unbothered. ”That’s my counter. The only one you’ll get.”

The silence stretched. Ethan’s jaw tightened. His pride screamed to storm out, but the numbers—his empty hall, the invisible listing, his sinking empire—chained him to the chair. He exhaled sharply, forced composure back into his voice.

”Three billion, final.”

Eamon tilted his head, studying him as though weighing not the words, but the desperation behind them. After a moment, he gave a single, cool nod. ”Two billion. That’s all. Take it, or Sterling rots.”

Ethan’s hands balled into fists beneath the table. He wanted to scream, but the truth was nailed in front of him. Slowly, he forced himself to nod. ”...Fine. Two billion.”