Chapter 5 - The Brother at the Head of the Table
Maxwell did not confront Julian.
Instead, he invited him to dinner.
Martha thought it was insane.
“That’s exactly what he expects you not to do,” Maxwell said.
They prepared the dining room as usual.
Celia supervised the staff.
Julian arrived at eight.
Dr. Vale came with him.
Maxwell sat at the head of the table.
Martha served.
Nobody mentioned the fire.
Nobody mentioned the security footage.
Then Celia brought Maxwell’s tea.
Martha watched her.
Celia placed it beside him.
Maxwell lifted the cup.
Julian smiled.
“To recovery.”
Maxwell smiled back.
“To family.”
He pretended to drink.
Martha removed the cup later.
After dinner, Maxwell began slurring his words.
His head drooped.
Celia looked relieved.
Martha understood.
He was acting.
Vale approached.
“Maxwell?”
No response.
Julian stood.
“Take him upstairs.”
Adrian rolled Maxwell toward the elevator.
Martha followed.
Once the doors closed, Maxwell opened his eyes.
“Where are they?”
“Dining room.”
“Good.”
Adrian took them to the rehabilitation room.
Maxwell locked the door.
Then he did something Martha had never seen.
He placed both hands on the parallel bars.
He pushed.
His arms shook.
His jaw clenched.
Slowly, impossibly, Maxwell rose from the wheelchair.
His legs trembled violently.
Martha moved closer.
“Don’t.”
“I’m here if you fall.”
“I said don’t.”
“You don’t get to be proud right now.”
He looked at her.
Then laughed breathlessly.
“Fine.”
He stood for five seconds.
Then ten.
At twelve, his knees buckled.
Martha caught him.
For a moment, his entire weight rested against her.
“You stood.”
“Barely.”
“You stood.”
Something broke through Maxwell’s hard expression.
Hope.
It was fragile.
Almost painful.
But it was there.
Then someone applauded.
Slowly.
They turned.
Julian stood in the doorway.
“How touching.”
Maxwell froze.
Julian smiled.
“I wondered how long you’d keep pretending.”
Adrian reached for his gun.
“Don’t,” Julian said.
Two armed men appeared behind him.
Maxwell lowered himself into the wheelchair.
Julian entered.
“You should have stayed helpless, Max.”
“You tried to kill me.”
Julian’s smile vanished.
“I kept you alive.”
“With poison?”
“With restraint.”
“Why?”
Julian leaned closer.
“Because when you walked, everyone obeyed you.”
He pointed toward the wheelchair.
“But when you stopped walking, they started listening to me.”
There it was.
Not money.
Not revenge.
Power.
Maxwell stared at his brother.
“You caused the crash.”
Julian didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Martha felt sick.
Julian looked at her.
“You were supposed to notice the movement and report it.”
“To you?”
“To Celia.”
“And when I didn’t?”
“You became inconvenient.”
Maxwell’s voice turned cold.
“Let her leave.”
Julian laughed.
“You still think you negotiate from that chair.”
He stepped toward Martha.
Maxwell moved faster than anyone expected.
He grabbed Julian’s wrist and twisted.
Julian shouted.
Adrian struck the nearest gunman.
Chaos erupted.
Martha ducked.
Maxwell pulled Julian toward him.
The second gunman raised his weapon.
A shot exploded.
Glass shattered.
Then silence.
Martha looked up.
Maxwell was still alive.
Julian was gone.
The gunmen fled.
Adrian was bleeding from the shoulder.
And on the floor lay Julian’s phone.
Its screen was unlocked.
A message had just arrived.
From Celia.
DON’T LET MAXWELL REACH THE BASEMENT.
Martha read it twice.
Then looked at Maxwell.
“What’s in the basement?”
Maxwell’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
For the first time since she had met him, Martha believed him completely.
