Maxwell lounged in his bedroom, already dressed for the day, his legs crossed as he gazed intently at the TV. The breaking news of Douglas Den's downfall dominated the screen, and Maxwell's face involuntarily curled into a sly smile, betraying his satisfaction at his rival's misfortune.
His wife walked into the room, expecting it to be empty, but instead found Maxwell still seated, his eyes fixed on the TV.
"I thought you'd be on your way to work by now," she said, approaching him with a hint of curiosity. Maxwell turned to face her, rising from his chair, his gaze locking onto hers. "I was waiting for you," he replied, his voice firm and cold, the space between them shrinking as they stood face to face.
"What for?" she asked, her tone neutral, her eyes searching his for answers.
"This," Maxwell said, handing her his phone.
She took it, her expression unreadable as she watched the footage of her punishing Isadora the day before. She returned the phone to Maxwell, her tone detached. "So, what's your point?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.
"Why would you resort to hurting her after I explained everything to you?" Maxwell asked, his voice laced with disappointment.
She shot back, her eyes flashing with defiance, "I needed to make sure she understood the gravity of her actions. She had to be taught a lesson, and I wasn't going to let it slide."
Maxwell's face darkened with anger. "There were other ways to handle it without physical harm. You were ready to take it to an extreme, even pulling out a whip if nothing had stopped you. What possessed you to think that was an acceptable solution?" His words were tinged with disgust and frustration.
"Why are you so riled up over that insolent maid who can't seem to grasp her place?" she snapped. "You should be supporting me, not defending her."
Maxwell's expression remained stern. "If something had happened to her, would you still expect me to stand by you? That's the real issue here."
She rolled her eyes. "Nothing happened to her, and yet we're still bickering over this insignificant girl. It's absurd. She's not worth my time or energy."
As she turned to walk away, Maxwell grasped her hand, his grip firm. "Don't dare walk away while I'm still speaking," he warned.
She yanked her hand free, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Or what? You'll try to control me? Think again."
"I'm trying to keep my temper in check this morning, so watch your tone. Remember, I'm still your husband," Maxwell warned, his voice firm but restrained. "And let me make one thing clear: if you ever lay hands on that girl again, there will be consequences. Mark my words." With that, he turned and exited the room, leaving Adriana seething.
She let out a low hiss, her anger simmering just below the surface. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll know who's in charge," she muttered to herself, her eyes blazing with determination. "You think you can come between me and my husband, you foolish girl? We'll see about that." Her voice was laced with venom, her mind already plotting her next move.
Antonio was preparing for his security shift that morning when his phone rang. "Hello?" he answered.
"Hey, it's Dante. How's everything going?" his friend asked.
"Smooth sailing so far. The plan worked like a charm," Antonio replied.
"Great! Now, you need to gain their trust before making your move," Dante advised.
"Already on it. And guess who I ran into here?" Antonio said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Who is it?" Dante asked, curiosity piqued.
"Isadora. But don't worry, I've got everything under control. It's a win-win situation for me being here," Antonio assured him.
"Okay, keep a low profile for now. I'll catch you later," Dante said before ending the call.
"Later," Antonio replied, pocketing his phone and continuing his preparations.
Antonio stood before the mirror, adjusting his wristwatch, and his mind replayed the events of the previous day. He recalled how their plan had unfolded: Maxwell's briefcase being snatched, the security team giving chase, and Antonio "coincidentally" appearing on the scene.
He had offered to help, asking which direction the thief had gone, and then "heroically" recovered the briefcase, returning it to Maxwell. The fake police officers, actually members of the Calandro crew, had arrived, "arresting" the thief (also a crew member) and driving away.
Maxwell, grateful for Antonio's "bravery," had impulsively offered him a job as his security guard, unaware of the deception.
Antonio smiled to himself, admiring the cleverness of their plan and how seamlessly he had gained access to the Sterling mansion. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he thought about the next phase of their operation.
Antonio still standing before the mirror, his eyes locked on his own reflection. His mission was clear: to unravel the truth surrounding his sister's untimely death, and to determine if Maxwell or his wife were implicated in her demise, as Douglas Den's wife had suggested. With a deep breath, he steeled himself for the challenges ahead, his gaze never wavering. Then, with a sense of resolve, he turned and walked out of the room, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Maxwell concluded his conversation with Grayson, his chauffeur, in his office. "Don't forget to drive me to Stellar Center this evening, I have a meeting to attend. You can go collect the necessary documents now." Grayson nodded in understanding and promptly departed, his exit coinciding with Marcus's arrival in the office. Maxwell's attention shifted to Marcus, ready to engage in a new conversation.
Maxwell motioned for Marcus to take a seat, and as he did, he asked, "You summoned me?"
Maxwell's expression betrayed a hint of concern, which he quickly masked. "How is Isadora faring?" he inquired, his tone measured.
Marcus noticed a flicker of worry in Maxwell's eyes, but it was swiftly suppressed. "She seemed a bit off this morning when she dropped the girls at school," Marcus replied. "She appeared fatigued, like she hadn't slept well."
Maxwell's expression turned stern. "Ensure she's well, Marcus. I won't have her experiencing what she went through yesterday with my wife again." Marcus nodded, responding, "As you wish, sir."
"Additionally, maintain a watchful eye on the new security guard," Maxwell instructed.
Marcus nodded, responding, "I'll keep a close eye on him, sir." As Marcus was about to speak further, the office telephone rang, and Maxwell answered it. After a brief conversation, he hung up the receiver.
"Ethan is here," Maxwell announced, his tone tinged with curiosity. "And I wonder what brings him here," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly in speculation.