"I did it!" Raking a hand through his hair, Maxon plunged the car door shut with a slight thud. Traipsing out of the Knight mansion with a walk of shame and a rejection was the most disgracefully subduing thing he had ever done. But at least now he was entering into the cushioned barricade of his own house where he could curl up like shrimp and dwell on his lost charm.
He still couldn't fathom how Eliza had managed to turn him down. Girls would literally beg him or even stalk him so as to get a chance for one date but not Eliza. All she wanted was a one night stand and she'd gotten exactly that.
"No strings attached." She had told him, kissing him on the cheek and bidding him goodbye. Maxon somehow felt used.
Is this how women feel when I don't call them back after sex? He wondered.
It was a frivolous attempt at a stupid vengeance anyways but Maxon thought that his charm would've made her swoon over him by now. But what did she do instead? Shoot him down every time he asked her out. And boy, he tried hard. Maxon had never felt so demeaned and degraded before.
"You didn't try hard enough," Kimberly whined from the other end of the call. Maxon could picture her perched before her vanity with her long legs plopped on the top and a nail paint brush in her hand whilst her maid held the phone for her.
"Yeah, don't be such a pussy, man. You can get any girl you want. I think you're just not trying hard enough." Maxon could sense the glint of humor in Sebastian's voice as he munched on his crackers.
"I'm not lying to you both. For the last time, she turned me down!" Maxon rolled his eyes, saying it over and over again was like rubbing salt in his wound. "I asked her thrice. Three times. And things got weird when I got on my knees."
"What else did you do? You nasty bastard." Sebastian giggled. "To be honest, I didn't peg you to be the kinky one amidst the three of us. I always thought it'd be Kimberly."
"Ugh, shut up Sebastian." Kimberly scoffed.
Maxon rolled his eyes, almost spitting his justification as damage control. He didn't want Kimberly to think that he had slept with Eliza. Although he had Maxon didn't want anyone to think ill of him. Especially Kimberly. "Get your head out of the gutter. I didn't mean it like that - on my knees as in begging."
"You're just making excuses, Maxon," Kimberly grunted. "You never wanted to be a part of this plan in the first place."
"Perhaps, but Walter is about to be your stepbrother. Why do you even want him back anyway?" Pushing the password for the lock fixated on the front door, Maxon squelched the door open.
The sweet, savory aroma wafted through the cool wintery air. His stomach clenched with hunger at the thought of sweet, honey rolls. He could imagine the warm, fluffy bun dripping with amber-colored liquid.
It was inhumanly quite in the foyer. No maids, no chefs, not even Ahren and Regina - who were usually in the kitchen munching on junk - they weren't to be spotted either. Neglecting the lack of human presence, Maxon proceeded into the kitchen thinking that everyone was just about minding their own business.
More for me, he thought as he took a large bite from one of the honey rolls perched on the oven tray.
"My mother's whore-y nature might've added complications to my plan but I've got another scheme which will ruin her reputation and her married life before it even begins." The villainous smugness in Kimberly's voice was nonnegligible.
Maxon couldn't comprehend her obsession with Walter. He understood that she felt genuine feelings for the douchebag but deep enough to sabotage her mother's marriage?
Yes, Evelyn was a class-A bitch and she probably deserved a failed marriage but blemishing her reputation?
That was low, even for Kimberly.
Maxon found it futile.
"I love it when you turn into a stone-cold bitch." Sebastian chuckled hyping her up, his deep voice reverberated through Maxon's end of the call.
And Maxon wasn't pleased with how supportive Sebastian was to everything Kimberly did. Disregarding whether her courses of actions were right or wrong, Sebastian never retracted from backing Kimberly up. Even if the entire world turned their backs on her, she could always count on Sebastian, he would never abandon her.
That's how much in love he was.
Almost blinded.
"Alright, then I'll meet you guys back at the lair." Flipping the disconnected call to an end, Maxon shoved the phone into his pockets.
Hafizh Qureshi - Ruxton Kingsley's right-hand man - approached him with a disastrously cataclysmic look on his face. Maxon waved his fingers at him before grabbing a glass of water - as the honey rolls made him thirsty - and turning the tap on.
"Your father wants to talk to you. He's in the study." Hafizh positioned himself before Maxon, his shoulders squared and not even the slightest glint of a smile. Hafizh had like an inch or two over Maxon and he ceased no opportunity to flaunt it.
"He's back from the funeral?" The calamitous look on Hafizh's face was a clear cut answer to Maxon's question.
"What the hell does he want?" Maxon grumbled, turning the tap off and bringing the glass closer to his lips as he took a large gulp.
"Be quick." Seemingly satisfied with the job he'd done, Hafizh exited the kitchen.
"Ya Allah, protect him," Hafizh muttered before going back to his security crew.
Maxon's heart stopped cold for a moment before restarting. Hafizh only prayed for him when his father - Ruxton - was about to unleash his wrath, not like the praying ever helped Maxon. Whenever Ruxton wanted to "talk" to his eldest son, Maxon always came back with a few bruises, a broken lip, and a black eye.
Relax, Maxon thought, forcing another gulp down his throat almost hoping to choke himself to death before he had to encounter his browbeaten father.
Soon he was standing before the heavy oak doors to the study, lifting a hand to knock. When Ruxton called for him to enter, Maxon swallowed hard and pushed his way inside.
"Maxon," Ruxton grumbled, some semblance of a bitter frown on his face. It immediately made Maxon wary. "Come, sit."
So Maxon did as he was told, slowly lowering himself into one of the beige plush leather chairs - his mother picked out from IKEA - in front of his mahogany desk. "How was your trip?"
Ruxton offered up a small laugh, practically rolling his eyes. "Like you care."
Of course, I don't. Maxon wanted to say but grit his jaw instead to keep the words from coming out. The last thing he wanted was for Ruxton to lash out at him. The last time he lashed out, the scar under Maxon's left eye was visible for a little over two weeks.
"You'll be moving out of the mansion." The nonchalance in Ruxton's voice was almost jocular.
"Hafizh will help you settle in your new apartment. Your financial needs will be taken care of. You already have access to your trust fund and you're allowed to visit Ahren twice a year but that's it." Throwing the file across the large mahogany table, he leaned his head back on the headrest. Eyes settling on Maxon's with a despicable look.
"Excuse me?" Maxon scoffed narrowing his eyes with a befuddled frown, unable to comprehend what his father had just said. Ruxton was throwing him out of the mansion without even awarding him with a plausible excuse or so much as a reason.
Sighing in contempt, Ruxton stood up. Circling around the mahogany desk standing beside Maxon's chair, he leaned onto its edge, towering over him. Ruxton shuffled through another stack of folders before he forwarded a tinted red file to his son.
"If you have any questions, save them for your dead mother." He gruntled.
Snatching the file, Maxon opened the flap.
New York Gene Information Centre, was written in a lettered font with black characteristic lining. The Paternity Test was what caught his attention. Maxon's breath hitched into the cage of his lungs and he couldn't bring himself to meet Ruxton's eyes. Those darn, indignant grey eyes.
Reading through the report, Maxon found three names associated with the summary simultaneously. Maxon, Ruxton, and Moira were remitted over and over until his sight settled on the disastrous conclusion.
As if on reflex, he gaped at the person who he thought was his father. Ruxton looked unbothered by the whole thing like he was glad to finally have Maxon out of his hair.
"What is this?" Maxon's voice threatened to crack but he couldn't give his father the satisfaction to see him break.
"You can read, can't you?" Ruxton blurted, incredulously but continued further, "Only two percent match in DNA. You're not my biological son."
Maxon glanced back at the piercing words, Familial DNA, not a match, tears threatening to spill.
"How-"
"I found it in Moira's cupboard, locked away." He scoffed. "She thought she could fool me, that manipulative whore."
Though Maxon was taken aback by his father's crude words against his mother - whom Ruxton loved dearly before her demise - Maxon took them in stride clenching his jaw instead.
"So you're using this as blackmail to throw me out of the mansion?" Maxon spat, placing his hands on the desk as he glared up at his father unable to seize control over his emotions.
A small smirk made its way to the corner of Ruxton's lips unable to facade the upcoming rage that clouded his face. "If you don't leave willingly, I might have to blackmail you."
"How long have you known?" He demanded, shoulders trembling with the effort of holding back.
Avoiding his question, Ruxton circled around his desk and positioned himself in front of the large French windows overlooking their magnificent pool and the orchid garden Moira planted.
The flowers lay scattered on the grass like frozen flames - a legacy left behind by his mother - bringing a cool blaze to their fucked up family.
A few moments, seconds, minutes later, Ruxton still hadn't answered Maxon's question. He had always been hostile towards his sons, beating the crap out of them for minor, nugatory mistakes, treating them like shit, and avoiding partaking in their lives but Maxon had never thought Ruxton would disown him based on a report which may or may not be forged.
After years of physical and verbal abuse, this was the last straw. So he broke, a single tear escaping his eyes as he clenched his fists before swiping them off his cheek.
"I guess mom sought comfort in another man's arms." Maxon scoffed, he could see his father clench his fists tighter with every passing second.
"Since she was married to a man like you, I don't question her morals at all. I guess you treated her like crap too, just like you do with your sons." His eyes were still glued onto the report from New York Gene Information Centre. The occasional tears wheeled down his cheek as he sniffled, almost inaudible.
It was more than weeping, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of hope. The pain that flowed from him was as palpable as the frigid fall wind.
Scowling, Maxon was about to turn away and back into the hallway to speak to Hafizh about accessing his full trust fund and the change of location in his living arrangement.
"You stupid boy. You know nothing. Nothing." Ruxton thundered a large hand curling into the collar of Maxon's shirt and swinging his son around to face him.
After a moment of glaring at Maxon, Ruxton finally pushed him away. "This stays between us. Do you understand? I don't want a scandal."
Maxon grunted, unable to believe that his own father - biological or not - who had raised him, in his own questionable ways all those years, was willing to disown him on the basis of a paternity test.
"If only you had died along with your mother." He snarled. "It would've saved me a whole world of trouble if you would have been in that car accident right alongside your mother."
"But no, you had to stay behind with Ahren." Ruxton made a sound of disgust, his eyes dilating a dangerous inch. "I should have made you go with her. It's my only regret in life."
Maxon wasn't sure if it was the confession or the grip that made him lightheaded, but he had to grit his teeth to remain in the moment. "Glad to know, how much you love me."
"No one can ever love you, Maxon. The only person who did is dead. Don't ever forget that."
I never have and I never will, Maxon bit the inside of his cheek to prevent the threatening tears from rolling down.
Snatching the tinted red file from the desk, he spared his father one last glance which was a mixture of agony, chaste, and irk. Maxon stormed out of his study and marked his way to the second floor and into his room.
Whilst the fury filled journey, his sight settled onto the painting rather a portrait - he drew in his early teens - hung on the corridor which lead to his room.
When his hand grazed over the canvas, it was almost like his mind was directing him back to a distant memory, tucked beneath the years of hatred and suppressed emotions.
The soft touches of his mother contradicted the ruthlessness illuminating from Ruxton. As an artist, he knew how to cover up brusque expressions with ubiquitous techniques but something about Ruxton prevented him to do so, even all those years ago.
The composition of the portrait was exemplary. Maxon's eyes moved from his mother and settled onto his father.
With his gruff exterior, Maxon always thought there was a loving father hidden beneath. Rather, he always fantasized about that person. The person who was good-natured, who loved football as much as his sons did and would never miss a game, the person who would be involved in his sons' lives, occasionally help them with their homework and lead them through heartbreaks.
Maxon would often come up with mental scenarios where Ruxton was a perfect father, where he would love Ahren and him, where he'd show him affection rather than pushing his face against the wall every time he made a minuscule mistake or giving him a black eye for insignificant mischiefs.
I guess I'm asking for too much, Maxon thought as he tossed his hard work into a trash bin not sparing it another solitary glance.
As much as Ruxton's words stung him, it was Moira's infidelity that stung harder. Everything Maxon thought, Maxon believed in was a lie based on Moira's infidelity. His whole life had been a deception, a fallacy and Ruxton had just tossed him aside, left him to fend for himself.
Maxon couldn't hurt Ruxton the way he did to him but he sure knew how to hurt his reputation.
He wants to avoid a scandal? Then that's exactly what I'll give him, Maxon smirked as he called the one person who loved mischief more than himself.
━━━━━━━━━━━━
"What're you planning to do?" Sebastian whispered, cowering behind Maxon.
"I just have to grab my father's car keys." Maxon turned around to take a good look at his partner in crime. As much as Sebastian was dauntless, he only feared two people: his own father - Lee WonShik or better known in the business world as Damien Lee, and Maxon's father - Ruxton Kingsley.
Both intimidating sons of bitches and could make any guy pee himself.
"Are you even sober?" Sebastian squinted his eyes, taking a long hard look at his friend who was currently swaying against the wall.
"I'm moderately functional."
"I'll take that as a no."
"Focus Sebastian."
"How would damaging a car be equivalent to him disowning you?" Sebastian scoffed, still uncertain about the progressively cementing plan.
Maxon scrutinized the living room where Hafizh was instructing directives to a few security members. There was no one his father trusted more than Hafizh - he'd been at his father's service for over 20 years and he was still a loyal, faithful soldier. Hafizh might not ascent with his boss's crude nature but he was paid handsomely to neglect the snarky remarks, illegal deeds, and Ruxton Kingsley's inhuman ruthlessness.
Hafizh was the bearer of every car key, confidential documents, and essential government documents Maxon's father ever possessed. To find the Bugatti's keys was a rather laborious task but Maxon wasn't going to back away, not until he got his revenge.
Getting disowned was more of a reason to make Ruxton's life a living hell and Maxon planned to do just that.
"This is not just an ordinary car. My mother gifted him this car right before her death. He's kept it close to his heart ever since." Maxon scoffed, a small smirk making its way to his lips. When he would be done with it, there wouldn't be much left to call it a car, more like scrap metal.
"This is fucked up dude. Your mother gave him this car, he has a sentimental attachment to it. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"
"Yes." Maxon pushed his friend towards another wall, no room left for argument. "You go in there and distract Hafizh. I'll swipe the keys from his suitcase."
"Alright, but if I die, you better call every hot girl I've ever slept with to my funeral." Sebastian flashed his friend a fake martyr-like salute before making his way over to Ruxton's right-hand-man.
"Boy, it's going to be one crowded funeral." Maxon snickered
"Fuck off, Maxon."
"You go talk to Hafizh, I'll make the guest list."
"Hafizh." Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering around to check if any of the guards were armed. Maxon could see Sebastian almost squirming as he walked over to Ruxton's right-hand man. "I-I needed to talk to you about something."
Hafizh dismissed the security team before focusing his attention on Sebastian. He thrust his hands into the suit pockets before commencing.
"Yes?" Hafizh's accent was a little mixture of English and a majority of Arabic.
Shaking his head in disdain, Maxon circled around the backside of the living room as Hafizh's back was turned to him. This was the only opportunity he had to grab the keys and make a run for the underground garage.
"How is little Noor?" Sebastian was doing a very bad job at distracting, his eyes constantly fluctuated from Maxon and back to their target - Hafizh - every five seconds.
"Alhamdulillah, she's healthy." Hafizh smiled with suspicion clouding his voice. "Is everything okay, Mr. Lee?"
"What?" Sebastian looked at his friend who was currently crawling behind an oversized chair - with eyes as wide as watermelons - before focusing back on Hafizh. "Oh? Oh, yes. Yes."
"Is there someone behind me?" Hafizh followed the trail of Sebastian's sight almost spotting Maxon shuffling around his suitcase.
Maxon ducked down, covering behind the little plush sofa, pulling his knees closer to his heart and collapsing like a horizontal shrimp.
"What? No, NO."
"Then did you want something from me?"
"Yes!" Sebastian almost yelled which thankfully distracted Hafizh away from the area of skepticism.
"What is it?"
"Lunch. I wanted to know if you, Noor, and Mrs. Qureshi cared to join me for lunch?"
"Shukran, Mr. Lee but my wife is in Saudi Arabia with our daughter at the moment. And I have to tend to Mr. Kingsley. Maybe next time." Maxon could sense Hafizh getting a whiff of the on-brewing plan.
Although Hafizh pretended to be engaged in a conversation with Sebastian Maxon was sure his ears were surveying any and every alien noise that threatened Ruxton Kingsley's security measures.
Maxon paid no further heed to the duo convulsed in awkward conversation as he continued shuffling around the suitcase and grabbed the entire thing from over the headrest. With a slight clonk, the heavy bag hit Maxon's head before it collapsed onto his lap.
Fuck.
Flicking it open, he began rummaging through all of his father's important documents, checkbooks, Manila envelopes, and car keys until he found the key.
A small devious grin tugged at Maxon's lips before he plopped the bag back onto its rightful place and ran towards the exit leading to the underground garage but not before signaling Sebastian to follow. His heart was thumping rapidly in its cage and his feet felt like heavy sacks of potatoes.
As he descended deeper into the underground parking, he could only help but gasp for air. Coming to a halt, Maxon bent down clutching his knees for support as he caught his breath. It wasn't long before Sebastian joined his friend but with a mortified expression and an unstoppable speed.
"Got it." Maxon said amidst heavy pants, waving the keys to a car in his hand. Sebastian only gave his friend a thumbs up before he scrutinized the underground parking as his eyes landed on one particular Bugatti Chiron.
Thrusting the key into the ignition, Maxon twisted it for a start. The engine revved with a loud roar and Maxon reversed the car from the parking lot as he hit the shutter. A loud bang rang in
his ears, Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his dark orbs settling on Maxon's.
Maxon could practically picture the dent forming on the $3,000,000 car's number plate.
So he smirked, shoving the gear for speed as he pushed the accelerator with a loud roar and the car bumped its front into the close contained four-walled underground parking.
Maxon leaned forward, like he was a rocket, like he was the car. The pain dried, leaving a void in his heart. His heart held the heaviness and his mind repeated Ruxton's words subconsciously.
No one will ever love you, Maxon.
He got more awake by the second. Maxon felt the rush and then some- he felt everything around him and in him, the road, his blood and his heart beating up to his throat.
Maxon slammed the gas harder and the resultant was a loud blow to the car's deck. He couldn't stop now, it granted him villainous pleasure. The only thing that mattered to him was the forward thrust and the way he felt every time he crashed Ruxton's prized possession into one of the four walls in their underground parking.
Maxon thought about every merit-demerit because he prodded the gas even harder now. The car was faster than anything and he remembered Maxon's nonchalant expression when he told his son to leave the mansion. When he wished death upon Maxon and when he called his mother a manipulative whore.
With every blow, his body was thrust forward, his head hitting the steering wheel and a crack forming on his head. Maxon hadn't even realized the blood oozing out of his cracked forehead as he pushed the gas harder once more and let the vehicle hit the wall.
With a few more blows, the car was nothing but scrap metal now. Repairing it would cost more than buying a new one and although it was a gift to his father from his mother - Maxon couldn't help but smile at the destruction he had caused.
Then, in the exact precise fraction of a moment before his heart would've exploded or the engine would've exploded, he lifted his foot up and off, the wheels screeching to a halt.
"We're fucked." Sebastian chuckled before his eyes settled on Maxon's forehead.
He took a step forward to touch it but before he could address the blood on his friend's forehead, they heard the security tumbling towards them like they were the prey and that was a hunt.
The duo made a run for it towards Maxon's Chevrolet Corvette and pushing the gas to its full potential, they were soon on the road towards their lair in the Empire State Building.
"Sebastian." Maxon gulped, the reality of what he had done had dawned on him in mere seconds but he wasn't ready to plead guilty in front of his biased father.
"Yeah?"
"Don't mention any of what I told you to Kimberly." He sighed. Kimberly already had problems of her own and Maxon couldn't burden her with a few of his. Besides, she worshipped Maxon's mother, Moira and he couldn't let Kimberly know that the woman she cherished for years, was nothing but a lying cheater.
"Of course." Sebastian leaned his head onto the window physically tired from everything.
The loud thumps and crashes had left a slight buzzing in Maxon's ears as a residue. He had managed to bandage the wound on his forehead with an emergency first aid kit in his car but the pain did not cease. He tried shaking it away but to no avail, with every mile, the thumping in the back of his head got louder and the sting on his wound got painful.
Parking his car into the driveway, the duo motioned for the elevator. There was an amicable silence between the two of them, although vandalizing Ruxton's car might've felt adventurous with an adrenaline rush in the heat of the moment but they both feared what Ruxton would do next.
Maxon was sure to be on the receiving end of whatever he had planned. He had started contemplating the heinous punishments Ruxton had decided for his son.
Maybe he would strip Maxon off his trust fund or throw him to the wolves. Literally. Or maybe Ruxton would disown him officially and release a press statement ridiculing Maxon in front of the entire New York City Maybe he would ship his son off to the Midwest or to the middle-eastern countries to work as a laborer.
Whatever Ruxton would do, Maxon has no choice but to comply like a prisoner to Ruxton's offerings.