Maverick pulled over at his parent's mansion, where certain enough, the voices of his parent's bickering greeted him at the front door.
"Are you even a man, Rowan?!" His wife, Sloane spat out, dressed in a black and silver sleeping robe.
Rowan reached for the bottle of alcohol and attempted to pour it's content into a shot glass. But Sloane snatched the bottle out of his hand, earning a frown out of her husband.
"Do you think getting drunk will get you out of this? Malcolm has made his move! He got his vegetable son married, this is the time to do something-"
Rowan banged his fist on the table, "I've told you already, I don't have any intention of getting the inheritance! Edward and Malcolm can go at each other's throats for all I care!"
Sloane laughed humourlessly, "Why did I have to marry the spineless son? While that bitch Laura got Edward?"
