Chapter Seven

Maximillian

"Are you sure about this, Max?" My brother, Julian, asked me." He appeared even more nervous than I was, despite my suggestion for him to wait in the car. Nevertheless, he insisted on joining me, accepting whatever challenges awaited us.

"This is your last chance to leave," I warned him as the screen door opened and Darius's mother, Annis Sterling, emerged with Darius's dog, Bomer. I had missed Darius's funeral due to a coma, making this moment even more significant.

"No way. If anything happens to you, dad will have my head," Julian protested as Annis descended the porch steps. He questioned whether I had informed our father about our presence here, but got no response from me. "You didn't tell him?!" His eyes went wide.

Just before she turned away, Annis noticed me, her expression changing from indifference to outrage. Despite her disapproval, Darius and I had always found ways to stay connected, even defying Annis's attempts to keep us apart.

The last encounter between Annis and Darius had been on my birthday, three months ago. Despite her prohibition, Darius had sneaked out to see me after I shared a photo of the new car my dad had gifted me. Little did Annis know, that would be the final time she saw her son alive.

"What are you doing here? You have the nerve to show your face to me." She demanded in a voice frigid enough to freeze the sun.  

I sat in an electric wheelchair, still recovering from the accident and subsequent surgery that had saved my leg and face. It was evident that she wished it had been me, not her son, who died in the accident, judging by the disdain on her face.

"How dare you show your face to me after what you did?!" She yelled, her anger escalating. 

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a single tear dropped onto the back of my hand. Attempting to speak, I found myself speechless, further fueling her rage.

"You killed my son, you bastard!" She accused, releasing her dog and lunging at me. Julian intervened, trying to hold her back, but she threw him off balance, and he fell on the mowed lawn. She attacked me, screaming, "I hate you! I hate you!"

"I'm sorry." I sobbed, my voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

"Justice!" I was abruptly pulled out of the nightmare, locking eyes with a stranger—her brown eyes filled with concern. Confused, I sat up, trying to comprehend my surroundings. Why did she call me Justice? Where was Julian?

"Are you okay? You were having a bad dream." She said, her voice gentle and reassuring.

I forced myself to focus on her face, realizing I wasn't in front of Annis, or in a wheelchair, or with Julian. The truth hit me like a ton of bricks—I had run away from home and was now in Havindelle, trying to start a new life as Justice, devoid of any memory of my past.

"I'm fine," I said hastily, wiping the tears from my eyes, feeling embarrassed at being caught crying. I hoped she wouldn't inquire about my dream, but thankfully, she didn't linger. Rising to her feet, she left me alone.

My memories, both before and after the accident, appeared to me as dreams. Every time I woke up, tears would be streaming down my cheeks. Some dreams lingered in my mind, while others faded away as soon as I regained consciousness.

"Edwina! Edwina Jonas!" A booming voice echoed from outside. 

Intrigued, I rose from my makeshift bed and ventured outside to investigate. Before me stood a man, roughly fifty years old, brandishing a machete and wearing a menacing expression. I pondered whether his intention was to harm Edwina with the weapon or merely to intimidate her.

Edwina calmly emerged from the house and brushed past me, positioning herself directly in front of the man. Despite the threat, her demeanor exuded confidence, leaving me to wonder if she was foolishly fearless or simply pretending to be brave.

"What is it?" She demanded. "Why are you shouting my name like that?"

"You, this stupid girl! Where are the items you stole from my house? My wife informed me that you intruded this morning..." The man accused, his anger palpable.

"Correction... I didn't steal anything from your house. I simply took food items worth the money your wife owes my sister. It didn't even amount to that much," Edwina retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. "Are you here to settle the debt?"

"Are you mad?" The man exploded. "Why would I do that?"

"In that case, you have no reason to be here," She responded nonchalantly. "Kindly leave, sir."

"I'm not going anywhere until you produce those items, and I hope for your sake that you've not touched anything," He threatened her, menacingly brandishing the machete in front of her face.

Surprisingly, she laughed in the face of danger, and I couldn't help but think she was either remarkably brave or incredibly foolish for underestimating the man's intentions.

"Edwina," I called out, attempting to intervene.

Her head whipped around, as if surprised by my presence or my calling her name. The warning in her eyes urged me to mind my own business, but I couldn't stand idly by, watching her potentially seal her fate.

"Give him what he wants so he can leave," I urged, trying to reason with her.

"Will you pay the debt his wife owes me?" She demanded, glaring at me defiantly.

"No, but..."

"Exactly. Since you don't have the money to pay me, why don't you let me handle my family business as I see fit?" She snapped, cutting me off.

Feeling defeated, I raised my hands in surrender, turned on my heel, and retreated back into the house. If she wanted to face danger head-on, who was I to stand in her way? Foolish woman, I thought. 

About twenty minutes later, she triumphantly walked back into the house, brandishing four crisp bills in her hand and wearing a smug smile on her face.

"Just because I'm a woman doesn't make me weak," She declared proudly. "Thank you for your concern, but it wasn't needed. I handled him all on my own."

"Got it, boss," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, emphasizing the foolishness of her actions.

"Is that sarcasm I detect in your voice?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Is it?" I replied, arching a brow.

"Whatever," She huffed. "I do not know why my mother insists on treating you like royalty when we don't even have enough food." She mumbled under her breath. "What would you like for lunch?"

"It's noon already?"

"Obviously," She sneered. "You went right back to bed after breakfast."

"Maybe because I'm still recuperating?"

"From what? You look fine to me," She said, eyeing me critically.

"I'm sorry for sleeping around like a lazy bum, Your Highness. I'll try to do better so I don't get thrown out of the house," I retorted. "I'll pass on lunch, thank you."

She gave me a scathing look before flouncing out of the sitting room, likely plotting ways to evict me from her father's house.