50. Late Evening
IN BROOKS MANSION, LATE EVENING --
The mansion was quiet in that intimidating, heavy way only Maximilian's home could be.
His study glowed dimly under the amber lights, the scent of aged whisky settling in the air.
Maximilian leaned back in his leather chair, a glass of strong whisky in his hand, and company reports spread out across his desk.
Numbers. Forecasts. International expansions.
Exactly the kind of chaos his mind needed to stay functional.
He took another sip—
when a sudden loud, obnoxious knock nearly made him break the glass.
"Come in."
His voice was calm… too calm.
Aiden practically exploded into the room, panting, drenched in sweat, hair sticking up like he'd just escaped a tornado.
"ELLLDDDEEERRR BROOOTHHERRR…"
Maximilian stared at him.
"…What."
Flat. Tired. Unimpressed.
Aiden bent over, wheezing like he ran a marathon.
"You came here like this… to bother me?" Maximilian asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You smell like a wet football."
"It's called soccer practice, elder brother," Aiden corrected proudly.
Then suddenly—
"Oh! I needed to ask you something important."
Max sighed.
"Say it before you faint on my carpet."
Aiden puffed his cheeks and pouted dramatically.
"What do you know about the upcoming S.L.U. sports event?"
"I have no clue."
Aiden's jaw dropped.
"You OWN St. Lumina University! How do you not know?!"
Max finally looked up, annoyed.
"Aiden, I own twelve multinational corporations. I do not have time to memorize college event schedules."
"That's discrimination against younger cousins."
Aiden crossed his arms.
"And athletes. And sweaty people."
"You're leaving sweat droplets on my floor."
Aiden gasped. "This floor costs more than my life, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
---
THE SECOND EXPLOSION — CHLOE
Before Aiden could complain again, a much louder commotion echoed down the hall.
Then—
CRASH!
BANG!
THUD-THUD-THUD—
"BROTHERRR MAX!! HELP ME!"
Maximilian shut his eyes.
Aiden muttered, "Oh boy. Hurricane Chloe."
The door swung open so violently that Aiden flinched.
Chloe ran in, hair messy, breathing like she sprinted through the entire mansion.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!! MAX HELP ME—
I AM SO CONFUSED—
EVERYTHING IS A MESS—
I'M PANICKING—
WHAT IF I LOOK UGLY—
WHY IS LIFE LIKE THIS—
HELP—HELP—HEL—"
She went on.
And on.
And on.
Maximilian just sat there, blank, staring at his cousins like they were some kind of cosmic punishment.
Aiden leaned close and whispered loudly,
"Should we… throw water on her?"
"No."
After almost five full minutes, Chloe finally paused to take a giant breath.
That's when Maximilian asked, tired but a little worried,
"Chloe. What happened."
She dramatically placed both hands on her cheeks.
"Max… I… got invited to a birthday party."
Max blinked once.
"…And?"
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT DRESS TO WEAR!!
What if I look underdressed?? Overdressed?? What shoes?? What style?? Makeup?? Hair?? Max, I WANNA LOOK PRETTY!"
Aiden slapped his own forehead.
"That's it? I thought someone died!"
"I AM DYING! Emotionally!" Chloe yelled back.
Maximilian took the longest, slowest sip of whisky of his entire life.
"Chloe," he spoke as if dealing with an atomic bomb,
"Just choose a dress."
"I did!" she shouted.
"…Then what is the problem?"
"I chose six."
Aiden burst out laughing. "SIX?! Girl, are you going to a party or a fashion runway?"
Chloe glared at him.
"It's my best friend's birthday! I must look perfect!"
Maximilian finally stood up.
"Both of you… get out of my study."
Aiden gasped. "What?! Elder brother—"
"I need silence. Peace. And the ability to breathe."
"But Max," Chloe whined, "you didn't help me!!"
Max took a deep breath and said in the flattest tone:
"Wear the pink one."
Chloe froze.
"…The pink one?"
"Yes."
She paused dramatically—
then screamed:
"OH MY GOOOOD YOU'RE RIGHT THAT WAS THE PRETTIEST ONE!!! THANK YOU BROTHER MAX YOU'RE THE BEST—"
Aiden whispered, "She's gonna scream the whole hallway again."
She did.
---
AFTER THEY LEFT...
The door finally shut.
Maximilian sat down, exhausted, shoulders dropping for the first time all day.
The whisky glass felt heavier.
His head felt heavier.
They had no idea about Eleanor's condition.
No idea about the shadows creeping around his life.
And he wanted to keep it that way.
"Idiots," he muttered softly.
But the faintest smile tugged his lips.
They were loud, chaotic, dramatic…
But they kept him human.
---