Chapter 3

"Don't apologize. I wore this dress to be looked at," she chuckled, leaning against the wall next to him. "You looked like you needed a break from the circus in there."

Maxwell sighed a little. "Is it that obvious?" But then he realized. Of course it's that obvious, everyone at this party saw his mother telling him to kneel and apologize to his half brother.

"Trust me, everyone needs a break from Debra's parties eventually," she said. "I'm Chloe, by the way. We actually went to college together, though I doubt you remember. I sat two rows behind you in Economics."

Maxwell looked at her closely. "Chloe... right. I think I remember."

"I'm actually your mother's new assistant," she added casually.

Maxwell was taken aback by that. Debra's assistant and yet she was speaking with him.

"Oh." Maxwell tried to keep his expression neutral. More like, ‘shit. She works for Debra.’ Usually, anyone who got along with Debra adopted her hostility towards him.

"Don't worry," Chloe waved a hand dismissively. "I work with her, but I don't act like her. I saw what happened in there with Armand. For what it's worth, I think you handled it better than anyone else would have."

"Thanks. I usually just try to stay invisible."

"Well, you're failing at that tonight," she teased gently. "You're all people will remember from this wedding."

Just then, his phone started ringing again. The vibration was loud in the quiet hall.

Maxwell sighed, pulling it out. It was the same number.

"Popular guy," Chloe noted.

"Not really. Just some spam caller who doesn't know when to quit," Maxwell said. He was about to decline it, but the annoyance bubbled up. He decided to tell them off so they would stop calling.

He swiped answer and held the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Good evening," a voice said on the other end.

It wasn't a robot. It was a woman's voice, smooth, sultry, and incredibly soothing. It sounded professional, yet surprisingly intimate.

"I am looking to speak with Mr. Sterling," the woman said.

Maxwell frowned. "Who?"

"Mr…uh, Sterling?"

"You have the wrong number," Maxwell said flatly. "There is no Sterling here, this is Maxwell."

"Actually," the woman's voice dropped an octave, sounding a bit relieved after hearing his name, "Yes… yes, I called specifically for you, Maxwell. I have been trying to reach you all evening." Her voice sounded even more alluring, and to Maxwell that sounded even more like a scammer, trying to lure him with a sweet voice.

Maxwell rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what this was. He'd read about these romantic scams before. They hired women with nice voices to charm guys out of their credit card details. Maxwell Sterling? Who even was that? Not him, that was for sure.

"Look, I don't know what you're selling, but I'm not interested," Maxwell snapped. "Stop calling me."

He hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Everything okay?" Chloe asked, watching him.

"Just a wrong number," Maxwell said, shaking his head. "Scammers are getting more persistent these days."

“Oh, look. The ceremony is starting. Your brother and Casey are about to do the ceremony.” Chloe said, watching as Armand and Casey made their way towards the alter.”

---

Meanwhile, somewhere in another country.

The setting sun cast a warm orange glow over a massive private greenhouse located on the roof of a penthouse. It was a peaceful sanctuary, filled with rare orchids and the sound of running water.

A woman stood by a small pond, sprinkling food for the koi fish. She looked elegant, her posture perfect, though her face held the kind of beauty that only came with age and experience. This was Victoria Sterling.

The glass door slid open, and a younger woman walked in. She was holding a tablet and wearing a headset. She looked a bit flushed.

"Ms. Victoria?" the assistant said softly.

Victoria didn't look up from the fish. "Did you reach him?"

"I... yes, I made contact," the assistant said, hesitating.

Victoria stopped feeding the fish. She turned around slowly, a look of intense hope and relief washing over her face. "And? Is he okay? What did he say?"

"He hung up on me," the assistant admitted awkwardly. "I asked for Mr. Sterling, and he said I had the wrong number. He thought I was a scammer."

Victoria blinked. Then, a small, genuine laugh escaped her lips.

"He doesn't know," Victoria whispered, more to herself than the assistant. "He doesn't know his real last name."

She looked back at the pond, her eyes glistening with emotion. "It's fine. I'm glad he's alive."

"What should we do, Ma'am? Should I call back?"

"No," Victoria said firmly. She wiped her hands on a silk handkerchief. "If we keep calling, he will only block the number. We need to do this properly."

She turned to her assistant with a determined look.

"Tell Kieran to visit him," Victoria commanded. "I'll meet him once I'm back in the country.”

It was now more than two hours since the ceremony, and Maxwell was sitting quietly at the grand dining table. Around him, his family, Casey's family, and several important guests filled the seats.

Armand and Casey had already exchanged their vows and were now officially husband and wife.

Naturally, the table buzzed with laughter and conversation. Guests showered the newlyweds with praise and congratulations. There was an atmosphere of joy in the air.

Meanwhile, Maxwell didn't say a word. He remained what he'd always been here, an outsider. And he was aware of that, hence he didn't try to start a conversation and just sat alone, waiting for all this to be over. Of all the people attending tonight, not one had spared him a kind glance. They didn't even try to speak to him. He noticed how some people would look at him with disgust and laugh while whispering to each other.

Maxwell was already feeling stupid for coming here after that invite. He thought since Armand had sent him an invite it might change things between them, but he was wrong,

Armand soaked in the attention and expensive gifts, flashing a smug smile at Casey every few minutes.

Casey's father, Gordon Hartwell, was holding court at one end of the table, his booming voice cutting through conversations as he told some story about a recent real estate deal. His wife, Vivian, sat beside him with that practiced smile she always wore the one that never quite reached her eyes. Their son, Brendan, was busy on his phone, probably posting about the wedding to his social media.

Across the table, Debra and Ramon watched Maxwell with barely hidden disdain. The reason was simple: they looked at him with such disapproval because he wasn't supposed to be sitting there.

Ramon had specifically instructed him to serve the guests like one of the waiters, not sit among them as if he were an honored member of the family.

But Maxwell had ignored the order. A clear sign of disrespect in their eyes.

"My dear nephew, what did you get Armand and Casey as a wedding gift?" Debra's sister asked, her tone dripping with false curiosity.

She wasn't genuinely interested. She asked that question because she simply wanted him embarrassed. After all, he was the son of a successful lawyer, yet somehow penniless. She assumed he'd bought the cheapest thing he could find.

Maxwell didn't shy away. "Something practical. Hopefully it'll keep him busy for a while... give the rest of us some peace and quiet."

The words coming out of Maxwell's mouth were unexpected. Casey's giggle caught in her throat. Armand's smug smile flickered. A few guests shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to laugh or look away.

Gordon's laugh boomed across the table. "Well, well. The help's got jokes now, does he?"

Vivian's smile turned sharper. "Gordon, dear, be nice. I'm sure Maxwell tried his best with whatever budget he's working with." Her tone made it clear she didn't think much of that budget.

Debra's eyes burned with anger, and her fingers tightened around her wine glass. "At least pretend to be happy for your brother."

"I am," Maxwell said with a straight face.

Armand chuckled, trying to regain control. "Ah, Maxwell. Always so bitter. You know, maybe if you'd actually achieved something worthwhile in life, you wouldn't be so jealous."

Armand leaned back in his chair, grinning. "It's fine, really. Maxwell's just... Maxwell. Can't expect much from someone who's never done anything worth celebrating."

"Exactly," Brendan chimed in, not looking up from his phone. "Some people are just born to serve, you know? It's not his fault."

A few guests chuckled, sensing entertainment. Debra smirked, tilting her head slightly. She wouldn't laugh if Maxwell had made the joke, but since it was Armand, it amused her.

Maxwell didn't want to respond, but deep down he didn't agree with Armand's words. He had actually accomplished more than Armand had in his life. It was only unfortunate that his accomplishments always got taken away by these same people.

"It's true," Debra added. "Armand has made us proud and continues to do so. Meanwhile, you... what have you done, Maxwell? Nothing. You have no ambition, no prospects. You're a waste of space.”