Maxwells's Rise: From Trash to Titan

The wedding was grand. The kind of luxury Maxwell had grown up around but never been part of.

Standing isolated in a room full of people, Maxwell's eyes wandered around the luxurious mansion: Chandeliers, expensive suits, tables filled with people who called themselves family but treated him like he was an outsider.

No, they treated him worse than an outsider!

At least an outsider was respected by everyone, but he didn't even have that here, he was simply a nobody in their eyes.

He stood off to the side on his own, ignored as usual. His stepfather, Ramon, was laughing joyfully and loudly with the guests. Wealthy individuals, including CEO's and chairman's of some of the biggest companies in the city.

He could see his 'mother' was holding a glass of champagne in her hands, looking every bit like the respected attorney that she was in the city.

And his step brother? He was dressed in an expensive suit, just like the golden son he was. The perfect heir.

Meanwhile, Maxwell might as well have been invisible. He didn't crave attention, not really. In fact he wanted to be left alone. What hurt was being treated like he didn't belong at all. He liked to pretend it didn't get to him anymore, but he wasn't a machine. He was human.

Just at that moment, laughter echoed in Maxwell's ears, prompting him to glance toward the source of the noise.

He immediately noticed the person.

"Hey, Maxwell."

Max just sighed, without turning.

"Did they make you a waiter for the wedding, or did you volunteer?"

His stepbrother's voice was easily loud over the chatter. Maxwell breathed in deeply, before exhaling slowly, forcing himself not to snap back. He didn't even need to turn around and look at the person to know who it was. 

Finally, he turned his head and looked at him: it was Armand, the groom who also just happened to be his stepbrother, standing there with that infuriating smug grin plastered across his face.

Armand was 34 years old, tall, wide shouldered, and always dressed to impress, with a stylish haircut that screamed wealth. And of course, he was also as arrogant as a god among mortals, at least in his mind.

His bride, Casey, giggled at his joke as she stood besides him. Casey was a beautiful 30-year-old woman, with brown eyes and a designer dress that hugged her figure. To most people, she was the definition of high class elegance.

However, to Maxwell? He saw through her pretense, she was as fake as they come. And 'her and Armand deserve each other'… was what he wished he could say, but the truth was that Armand was far worse than her. He felt bad for her honestly.

Maxwell smiled at his step brother and his bride. However, there was nothing to smile about. The only reason he did was just so he could show that Armand's words didn't bother him.

But who was he trying to fool? They bothered him more than anything. He hated that his own brother treated him like this.

"I'm here because you invited me," Maxwell said evenly.

Armand made a show of looking confused, glancing at Casey. "Did I? Huh. Must've been the planner's screwup." His eyes dragged down Maxwell's casual clothes, lingering. "Though I guess you do look the part. Since you're here anyway, mind grabbing me a scotch?"

Maxwell's jaw tightened. Before he could form a reply,  Casey leaned into Armand's shoulder. "He really does, doesn't he? Maybe you've found your calling, Maxwell. You'd make an excellent.... Waiter"

"I'm good, thanks." Maxwell cut across her, then looked back at Armand. His mouth curved, not quite a smile. "You're hilarious, brother. Really. Almost as funny as the idea of you making it through a marriage without blowing it up."

He turned to Casey, still grinning, "Dear sister-in-law, you must be quite the woman. It takes a special kind of patience to handle Armand. I truly admire that. I hope he proves everyone wrong this time."

The moment Maxwell said those words, Armand's smirk turned sour, his face darkening with embarrassment and anger. How dare his bastard brother say something like that in front of his soon to be wife? Was he trying to plant a seed of doubt in her mind?

It bothered him because Maxwell wasn't just throwing empty insults unlike him. He was stating a truth Armand wanted buried.

The truth was, this was Armand's third marriage. Every time, the divorce papers came down to the same thing, he had a wandering eye and no self-control. And he knew it. Everyone here knew it. It was the one topic he never wanted dragged into the open, especially not in front of his soon-to-be wife.

Armand forced a laugh, shaking off the shame and pretending as if he wasn't bothered by Maxwell's words.

But deep down he was bothered. Armand hated that Maxwell had made him look like a failure in front of everyone. And he wasn't about to let that slide.

"Well, at least I'm getting married," Armand said, his smirk returning. "You, on the other hand? You'll probably die alone. Not like anyone would want to marry a guy with negative everything to offer. Even if you offered to give her your life, in exchange for hers it would still be nothing, because you simply are useless brother."

Casey chuckled after Armand said that, as if he had said the funniest thing ever.

Armand felt his confidence returning. And just at that same time someone called out.

"Maxwell!"

Debra, their mother, was the person who had called out to Maxwell.

She walked over, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

She looked flawless as always, elegant and composed. In people's eyes, she was the very image of success. But her eyes, when she looked at her son, Maxwell were cold and filled with nothing but disappointment.

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't invited,” Debra asked. “How dare you show up, are you trying to embarrass him on this special day?”