Chapter 4

Vivian nodded sympathetically, though her eyes gleamed with something else. "It must be so difficult, Debra. Raising a child who just... doesn't quite fit in with the family's standards."

Maxwell clenched his fists beneath the table but remained silent. There was no point in arguing. They'd made up their minds about him long ago.

But still, it bothered him, because the hypocrisy was unbearable.

The very people who had kept him down all these years were now calling him a failure.

Five years ago, their Lexus Corporation was on the verge of bankruptcy. Ramon, with all his so-called brilliance, couldn't save it. Maxwell had been a general manager at one of the city's most successful companies back then. He'd quit to save the family business. When they let him take control of the situation, he'd turned it around. Stabilized it and made it profitable again.

And as soon as he had turned everything around and the business was stable? They fired him. Ramon took the credit. Debra praised him endlessly. And Maxwell was cast aside like he'd never mattered. What he did for them was never mentioned again, like it had never existed.

He'd been so naive back then, hoping that helping them would finally earn their acceptance. That his mother might look at him with something other than contempt.

That hope had been nothing but a fool's dream.

Casey leaned into Armand, giggling. "Must be exhausting, being the family disappointment."

Her words snapped Maxwell out of his thoughts. He looked at her. "Wouldn't know. You'd have to ask Armand."

The room froze. The laughter and chatter died instantly, replaced by silence.

Casey's face turned red, not from shame, but anger. How dare he? Armand bared his teeth. 

"What did you just say?" Armand asked. 

Maxwell met his eyes. "You heard me."

Gordon's face darkened. "Now hold on just a minute…. "

Debra's eyes went icy. The nerve of him. To even open his mouth in front of all these important people. It enraged not just her, but everyone at the table who mattered.

Maxwell was her son, but she had never truly cared about him, just as she hadn't cared for his father.

Debra's chair scraped back slightly. She spoke in a cold voice. "That's enough."

But Maxwell wasn't done. "She wants to talk about disappointments? Fine. Let's talk about the guy who has done nothing his whole life except blown through two marriages already. Or maybe we can talk about how everyone here knows exactly why those ended."

A few guests looked down at their plates. Others exchanged glances. Armand was so mad, but all he could do was clench his jaw so hard that a vein pulsed in his temple.

"How dare you speak to my daughter's husband like that!" Gordon's voice boomed, his face reddening. "In front of all these people!"

Vivian placed a hand on Casey's shoulder, her expression dripping with false concern. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry you have to deal with this kind of... behavior. On your wedding day, no less."

Debra stood up finally. "Get out of that chair."

Maxwell didn't move, he just looked at her as if he couldn't believe her right now.

"I said get out of that chair." Her voice was sharper now, making everyone startle and go quiet. "Since you feel too important to celebrate your brother properly, you can make yourself useful elsewhere. Serve the guests."

The sound of people whispering and murmuring filled the place. Maxwell wasn't surprised. He was already little more than a servant in his own home.

Some guests barely hid their smirks. Others looked away awkwardly.

Brendan straightened in his seat, suddenly interested. He pulled out his phone, angling it slightly toward Maxwell and started recording.

Armand grinned, the confidence flooding back into his face. "Perfect punishment. A fitting one for a peasant like you." He lifted his glass. "Be a good sport, Maxwell. I've spilled my drink. Why don't you clean it up for me?"

Then, without hesitation, he let the glass drop.

It shattered. Wine spread across the marble like blood, dark and pooling. A few shards skittered toward Maxwell's feet.

Armand leaned back, spreading his hands. "Oops. Clean that up for me, would you?"

The room waited.

Maxwell stared at the broken glass. Then at Armand. His stepbrother's grin was wide, daring him to do something that he might regret later. 

"No," Maxwell said quietly.

The single word was something that no one in this room expected to come from Maxwell, who had no choice but to do as he was told, since he was at Armand's mercy here.

Armand's grin slowly turned into a frown. "What did you say?"

"I said no." Maxwell's voice was controlled, but deep in his chest he was burning with suppressed rage. "Clean it up yourself."

Gasps erupted from the guests mouths. How brave of this guy?

Armand's facial expression was dark. He took a step closer to Maxwell, his voice quiet enough from the rage that only those nearby could hear. "You really want to do this? Here? Now?"

"I'm done being your entertainment," Maxwell said.

Armand's eyes lit up all of a sudden with something mischievous. His smile, returned but more evil now. "Fine. Then I'll have a little chat with Elena after this. You know, the head housekeeper? We've been meaning to replace her after her recent mess ups anyways. She's getting old. Slow. I'm sure we can find someone younger, cheaper."

Maxwell formed two fists with his hands. He wouldn't dare do that! 'This bastard!' he clenched his fists.

Elena.

He'd known her for fifteen years. She'd been working for the family since he was twelve, back when Debra first married Ramon and brought Maxwell into this house.

While everyone else treated him like garbage, Elena had been different. She'd slip him food when Debra decided he didn't deserve dinner. She'd let him into the kitchen through the back door when Ramon locked him out for embarrassing the family. When he'd been sick with fever and no one cared, she'd brought him medicine and sat with him until it broke.

She had three kids. Two are still in school. Her husband had died four years ago, and she's been supporting her family on her salary ever since. Maxwell knew because she'd once broken down in the kitchen, terrified she couldn't afford her daughter's tuition.

He'd given her what little money he had. It wasn't much, but it was something.

She was the only person in this house who'd ever treated him like he mattered.

Armand watched Maxwell's face, and his grin widened. He'd found the pressure point.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Armand straightened, speaking louder now so the guests could hear. "It would be a shame, wouldn't it? Her losing her job because of you. Because you couldn't swallow your pride for five seconds."

Maxwell's hands trembled. But not from fear, from rage.