Chapter 13

The double doors of Maxon's grand mansion opened, and a man in his mid-fifties walked in. He was pudgy, short, and had a bald spot on his head, dressed in a black suit with glasses in front of his eyes, a cane in his hand, and a cigar in his mouth.

"Father," Maxon said as he rose from the sofa.

Wes remained seated in the massive and luxurious living room, which was decorated in black, white, and gold. The mansion was immaculate from the inside and out, although Wes wasn't fazed by it at all. He was accustomed to such opulence and expected nothing less.

"This is Wes," Maxon said. "He's new to town and needs a place to stay for the night."

Wes had also risen to his feet. The man came to a halt in front of the prince and extended his hand.

"Cayman Hill," he said, still holding the cigar in his mouth. "So, I take it you saved my son from those thugs?"

"Yes," Wes replied, shaking his seemingly welcoming hand.

"Hold up," Maxon said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I need to take this."