Chapter 137

Maxwell smirked. Would you look at that? The old man's already wishing me dead the moment I walk in.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

His eyelids drooped lazily as he arched a brow. "Oh, I'll make sure to stay alive—just for you. Otherwise, who's gonna pull the plug when the time comes? Face it, you'll still need me in the end."

"You little bastard!" Harrison roared, veins bulging at his temples. "I'll beat the life out of you before you ever get the chance!"

He bellowed for Frederick to fetch his whip while struggling to yank off his custom-made Italian loafers, ready to hurl them at Maxwell's infuriating grin.

Sebastian and Dominic quickly stepped in, wedging themselves between the two before fists could fly. Lillian and Sophia rushed to calm Harrison, but his temper still burned hot.

Then, a soft voice cut through the chaos.

"Um... dinner's ready. Should we eat?"

The room fell silent as all heads turned.

Camille, Harrison's third wife, stood in the doorway, an apron tied around her waist and a wooden spoon in hand, blinking at the scene in mild bewilderment.

Right on cue, Harrison's stomach growled loudly.

"Fine! I'll deal with this brat after I've eaten!"

Relieved, the family trailed after him toward the dining hall.

Sebastian shot Maxwell a stern look. "That was too far. Dad's easygoing, but you shouldn't have said that."

"Who said I was joking?" Maxwell smirked.

"Maxwell Kingsley." Sebastian's voice turned icy.

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. He cursed me first—I just gave him a taste of his own medicine." He sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I'll shut up if it makes you happy. Just stop glaring at me like that. I won't sleep tonight."

Shuddering, he muttered under his breath and stalked off to the dining room.

Sebastian's expression softened, and he followed with a resigned sigh.

Dominic chuckled, nudging him. "Damn. You're the only one who can tame him. One look from you, and he folds like a kicked puppy."

He mimicked Sebastian's signature glare—brows furrowed, eyes narrowed—then burst out laughing. "I should practice that. Maybe then he'll stop disrespecting me!"

Evelyn snorted. "Don't bother. You just look constipated."

Harrison was in unusually high spirits that evening, his cheeks flushed from glass after glass of wine. Lillian tried to stop him, but he waved her off.

Though he and Maxwell sat at opposite ends of the table, exchanging no words, it was obvious Harrison was thrilled his son had come home. His gaze kept flickering toward Maxwell when he thought no one was looking—as if he couldn't bear to look away.

Maxwell noticed but pointedly ignored him.

Harrison's smile dimmed.

Evelyn, ever observant, caught the exchange and tensed.

She knew Maxwell still held a grudge. He'd never forgiven their father for betraying their mother.

The Kingsleys were obscenely wealthy, their empire dwarfing some nations' GDP. Harrison's nine children would inherit more than most could earn in ten lifetimes—and he could afford nine more without breaking a sweat.

As Monarch Group's chairman, Harrison was magnetic, charming, and generous. In his youth, he'd survived multiple assassination attempts. By fifty, he'd rewritten business history.

A near-perfect man—except for his weakness for women.

No one was flawless.

As a child, Evelyn had thrown tantrums over his mistresses, just like Maxwell. But with age came acceptance.

If she couldn't change it, she'd let it go.

She wouldn't ask Maxwell to forgive Harrison or defend their father's actions. She just wanted him to move on—for his own sake. Only then could he heal.

After dinner, Maxwell leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

"Gotta admit, your mistress can cook. Three plates of pasta—I'll need to hit the gym tomorrow."

"Maxwell," Evelyn chided, swirling her wine. "Aunt Camille's been through enough."

"Doesn't change what she is now—Harrison's prized mistress. Most women would kill for that title."

His voice turned cold. "Tell me, Evelyn—who's really the victim here? Our mother. And we're all playing happy family. Does he ever think about her when he's picking which bed to crawl into at night?"