The storm outside raged on, mirroring the chaos simmering within the Jones family. Maxwell remained outside in his wheelchair, his thin clothes soaked through as the rain poured down relentlessly. His frail body shuddered, but he made no effort to seek shelter. His cries for help had gone unheard, drowned out by the storm, and now, exhausted, he simply sat there. His tears mingled with the rain, his small figure barely visible in the downpour.
Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was equally tense. Upstairs, Mister Jones paced the length of his study, hands clasped tightly behind his back. His assistant, Mister Adam, sat at the desk, diligently transcribing his dictation.
"Reynald will inherit the leadership of the pack and the family estate," Mister Jones declared, his voice firm. "He has the strength, the charisma, and the determination to lead. He is everything this pack needs in a leader."
Mister Adam hesitated, glancing up from his notes. "What about Maxwell?" he asked cautiously.
Mister Jones paused mid-stride, his expression softening as he looked out the rain-streaked window. "Maxwell is my greatest worry. He is my late son's child, my grandson—but his condition makes him vulnerable. To ensure his safety, I will divide my assets equally among him, Reynald, and Elizabeth. They will act as his guardians."
Mister Adam's pen hovered above the paper, his brow furrowed. "Do you believe Elizabeth is the right choice?" he asked hesitantly.
The question made Mister Jones stop. Slowly, he turned, his gaze sharp. "Be very careful with your words, Adam."
The firelight cast long shadows on the walls as Mister Adam reached into his leather bag. He pulled out a USB drive, its metallic sheen glinting in the dim light. "Sir, you asked me to investigate certain suspicions. The evidence is here," he said, sliding the drive across the desk.
Mister Jones stared at the USB, but before he could pick it up, movement outside the window caught his eye. His heart sank when he saw Maxwell, still sitting in the rain, his head bowed low.
Outside, the downpour showed no mercy, drenching the boy who looked more like a fragile specter than a living being. His hands clutched the armrests of his wheelchair as though they were his only anchor. He didn't flinch when the maid approached, her face twisted with anger.
"You useless brat," she hissed. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hair, jerking his head back. Maxwell gasped, the sudden pain jolting through his already fragile body. Before he could react, her hand struck his face, the sharp sound of the slap cutting through the rain.
Inside the study, Mister Jones's heart froze as he saw the altercation. Fury exploded within him. His old legs carried him faster than they had in years as he stormed out of the study, barely hearing Mister Adam's frantic call behind him. By the time he reached the front yard, Elizabeth was already there.
"How dare you?!" Elizabeth's voice sliced through the storm like a whip. She seized the maid's arm and slapped her with enough force to make the woman stumble. "You dare lay a hand on my nephew?"
The maid tried to retreat, but Elizabeth was relentless. She grabbed the woman by the hair, her fury tangible.
"That's enough, Elizabeth!" Mister Jones barked, his voice trembling.
Elizabeth released the maid, though her hands still trembled with rage. Maxwell sat motionless in his wheelchair, his soaked clothes clinging to his frail frame. Mister Jones knelt beside him, his trembling hands cupping Maxwell's pale face.
"My boy," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."
Despite his condition, Maxwell lifted a trembling hand to wipe away his grandfather's tears. "I'm fine," he croaked, though his hoarse voice betrayed the truth.
Elizabeth stepped forward, her tone firm. "Father, let me take him inside. He needs warmth before he falls ill." She wheeled Maxwell toward the mansion, her movements brisk but gentle.
As they disappeared inside, Mister Jones turned to the guards standing nearby. "Escort the maid to the east wing and keep her under watch. I want a full report on her actions by morning."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances but complied.
"Sir," one of them ventured, "why protect her after what she did?"
"She's been Maxwell's maid for years," Mister Jones replied, his voice thick with meaning. "Something isn't right. I need to know the truth."
Back in his study, Mister Jones inserted the USB drive into his computer. The files loaded slowly, each second stretching into an eternity. When the contents finally appeared, his breath hitched.
The first file was a series of videos. As he clicked on the first one, the screen lit up with grainy footage of Reynald.
In the video, Reynald's face twisted with disdain as he glared down at Maxwell. The footage was timestamped over ten years ago, when Maxwell and Reynald were still children. Reynald stood before Maxwell, who was backed into a corner of the family's forest.
"You'll never be one of us," Reynald sneered. "You're weak—more human than wolf. My mother says you're a disgrace to the bloodline. She's right."
Maxwell, trembling, tried to defend himself. "I'm part of this family!" he insisted, his voice breaking. "Just because I haven't shifted yet doesn't mean—"
"It means you don't belong here!" Reynald roared, cutting him off. The next scene showed Reynald lunging forward, shoving Maxwell down a steep hill. Maxwell's scream echoed in the recording as his small body tumbled violently, crashing into rocks and tree roots. The camera shifted, now focusing on Elizabeth, who stood at the top of the hill, her arms crossed.
"You didn't push him hard enough, Reynald," Elizabeth said coldly. "I told you, this family needs strength, not weakness. If he can't survive this, it's better he doesn't come back."
Reynald hesitated, glancing down at Maxwell's crumpled form at the bottom of the hill. "What if he dies?" he asked.
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "He won't. But he'll learn where he stands."
The screen went dark. Maxwell's injuries from that day were confirmed in the next file—medical records detailing the broken spine, the surgeries, the prognosis. That moment had changed everything. Reynald's push, sanctioned by Elizabeth, had stolen Maxwell's future and left him trapped in his fragile body.
In the warm glow of the study, Mister Jones leaned back in his chair, his heart pounding as the storm outside began to subside. The truth he had uncovered unraveled years of trust and illusions, leaving him reeling.
Elizabeth had always been a dutiful daughter in his eyes, the backbone of their family. Reynald, despite his arrogance, had shown promise as a leader. But this… this was betrayal of the cruelest kind.
His hand clenched into a fist. Maxwell's gentle face haunted his thoughts, his frailty a stark contrast to the venom Elizabeth and Reynald had displayed. How long had Maxwell endured their torment in silence? How much had he suffered while his grandfather remained blind?
"They will answer for this," Mister Jones vowed, his voice low but firm.
The weight of the USB drive in his hand felt heavier now, a damning symbol of the darkness within his family. He placed it back on the desk, resolving to confront the truth head-on.
As the house settled into an uneasy quiet, Mister Jones steeled himself for the battles ahead. Maxwell's suffering would not go unanswered. The truth was out, and there would be justice—no matter the cost.