The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 207: The True Nature of the Despicable

Julian Sterling truly did not harbor a single shred of concern regarding the matter. In fact, if the rumors circulating through the academic grapevine were indeed grounded in reality, he felt a sense of profound relief rather than distress, as it would signify that he had finally shed a cumbersome and stifling burden.

Of course, there was another distinct possibility to consider: Vince Sutton was an inherently arrogant creature, a man who consistently overvalued his own limited intuition. It was highly likely that he had simply assumed, based on his own biased worldview, that the Sterling family had discarded Julian. In the shallow mind of Vince Sutton, the fact that Julian had been sent into a political marriage alliance meant he no longer possessed any functional utility. With no powerful backing remaining, Vince Sutton surely believed that Julian had transformed into a stray dog that anyone could kick or trample upon at their leisure.

As this realization crystallized in his mind, Julian Sterling could not help but let a flicker of a derisive smile cross his lips: "Is that so? Are you truly one hundred percent certain of your information, Vince Sutton? " Julian’s voice was as smooth as silk yet possessed the chill of a winter frost: "There is an old saying, Vince, even a starved camel is still larger than a well-fed horse. Regardless of my current standing or the whispers you choose to believe, the blood that flows through my veins originated from the prestigious Sterling family. But as for you..."

Julian Sterling paused for a calculated heartbeat, letting the final word hang in the air like a suspended executioner’s blade. He leaned forward slightly, closing the gap until he was hovering just beside the ear of Vince Sutton. He lowered his voice to a hushed, intimate murmur that was intended for no one but the two of them: "...You are nothing more than a hollow, destitute soul who carries within him a desperate, pathetic delusion of grandeur. Do you truly believe that by draping yourself in this mountain of designer labels, this expensive pile of branded refuse, you can trick the world into believing you possess the pedigree of the elite? You think people see a man born into wealth, but you are mistaken, Vince Sutton. In the eyes of those who truly hold power and status, you are nothing but an uneducated, pretentious provincial boor who, having finally come into a few spare cents, suddenly believes he can look down upon the heavens themselves."

Julian Sterling pulled back, standing tall and straight once more. With a languid, deliberate motion, he reached into a paper bag resting on the desk and withdrew a pristine, snow-white tissue. Then, with the entire room as his audience, he began to meticulously and carefully wipe each of his fingertips that had accidentally brushed against the person of Vince Sutton. He moved with an exaggerated precision, as if he were attempting to scrub away the traces of something profoundly filthy, a foul and nauseating contagion that had dared to touch his skin.

As he continued this silent, insulting performance, Julian Sterling spoke again, his tone conversational and calm: "A person with a lowly soul will remain eternally wretched, no matter how much gold they attempt to gild themselves with. Such a facade can never truly mask one’s inherent nature. How could someone like you ever hope to be worthy of standing beside, let alone comparing yourself to, the great families whose foundations have stood firm for generations? "

In the deepest recesses of his heart, Julian Sterling did not actually harbor a prejudice against the poor who possessed a strong will and a sense of dignity. He had always maintained the philosophy that every human being carried their own unique value and deserved respect based on their character rather than their bank account. He did not judge anyone solely on the circumstances of their birth. However, Julian Sterling was acutely aware that for a creature like Vince Sutton, these specific insults, those that struck directly at the core of his origins and his deep-seated inferiority complex, would inflict the maximum amount of psychological damage. He spoke these words with the surgical intent of shattering the fragile, illusory self-esteem of this human chameleon.

Based on the brief but telling summaries Kian Foster had provided earlier, Julian Sterling had deduced that Vince Sutton was the type of man who could never tolerate being seen as inferior, even in the most trivial of matters. That gnawing sensation of inadequacy and envy had likely taken root back when Vince Sutton was merely a member of an ordinary, working-class family. Now that he had unexpectedly stumbled into wealth and clawed his way into the ranks of the nouveau riche through Msson Enterprises, he loathed the feeling of being looked down upon more than anything else in the world.

He harbored a deep, simmering resentment toward the traditional upper class because of their effortless grace and innate refinement, yet he remained cowardly enough to know that he lacked the strength to challenge them directly. But somehow, through the tangled web of campus rumors, Vince Sutton had learned of the supposed fall from grace of Julian Sterling. He had convinced himself that Julian was now a discarded plaything, a vulnerable target upon whom he could vent all his suppressed frustrations and insecurities. By tormenting Julian Sterling, Vince Sutton hoped to satisfy his own base ego and prove his superiority.

However, the "soft target" that Vince Sutton had been so certain he could knead like putty in his hands had suddenly turned into cold, unyielding iron. The fact that Julian Sterling was not only resisting but was also systematically dismantling his character with the most venomous and articulate insults had pushed Vince Sutton toward a state of complete and utter mental collapse.

Yet, simultaneously, the unwavering confidence with which Julian Sterling spoke of his family background began to plant seeds of genuine fear and hesitation within the mind of Vince Sutton. Deep down, Vince Sutton knew a terrifying truth: he absolutely did not have the status or the backing to survive a direct confrontation with the might of the Sterling Group. He needed to retreat, to regain his composure, and to verify, once and for all, whether Julian Sterling had truly been abandoned by the Sterling family. The aura and the sheer power Julian Sterling radiated in that moment were far too potent for a man supposedly at his wit’s end.

Ultimately, after a grueling internal struggle and finding himself completely devoid of any clever retort, Vince Sutton could do nothing more than tuck his tail between his legs. He beat a hasty retreat, followed by his now-silent lackeys, attempting to salvage a pathetic shred of his dignity by uttering a tired, clichéd threat: "You just wait, Julian Sterling. This is far from over! "

Hearing those words, Julian Sterling allowed a faint, amused smile to play upon his lips. It sounded remarkably familiar. In the mediocre, three-cent web novels he had occasionally glanced at, the third-rate antagonists always seemed to rely on that exact same script when they were being thoroughly defeated.