My Brother’s Game
On his deathbed, he handed over the Maxwell Corporation and me, twelve years old at the time, into Leon’s care.
Everyone said my brother was the perfect heir. However, I knew better. Behind that polite, gentlemanly mask was a ruthless lone wolf.
I stood outside Leon’s study, my hand hovering over the door handle, hesitating to push it.
Finally, I sucked in a breath and twisted the knob. The familiar scent of cedarwood hit me immediately.
The air felt chill and restrained, just like him.
“Huh? He’s not here?”
Seriously?
He told me to come back, and then he wasn’t even home.
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