Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 301

Maxwell’s POV

"Why is he doing this?" he asked when I finished. "Is he really that insane? Or does he just hate Olivia that much?"

"I don’t care," I said, and I meant it. "He tried to drown Olivia and our baby. He attacked her father. As far as I’m concerned, our father died in that fire years ago. This man - whoever he is - is just a monster wearing his face."

Damien was quiet for a moment. Then: "Wait. Olivia’s pregnant?"

"Yes."

"God, Maxwell..." A genuine smile crossed his face. "You finally won, bro. You finally got her."

The words should have made me happy. Should have filled me with joy.

Instead, they just made the hollow ache in my chest worse.

"I didn’t win anything," I said quietly, staring out the window at the passing city. "I thought I had. Thought we finally had a chance. But this whole thing with our psychotic father is destroying everything. Olivia won’t even look at me. Her mother can’t stand the sight of me. And I don’t blame them."

I paused, swallowing hard.

"I don’t think I can see Olivia again," I admitted. "Not after this."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Damien glance at me, and his expression shifted to something that looked almost like sympathy.

"That bad, huh?" he said quietly.

"That bad."

"I’m sorry, man," Damien said, and for once he sounded completely sincere. "I know how much she means to you."

"Yeah, well." I shrugged, trying to act like my heart wasn’t being ripped out of my chest. "At least I can make sure she’s safe. That’s something."

Damien was quiet for a moment, then: "For what it’s worth, I wish I could say the same about winning. I totally blew it with Kira. She’s solidly with Kennedy now."

Despite everything, I felt a flash of sympathy for my brother.

"Sorry," I said.

"Yeah, me too." He sighed. "Guess the Wellington brothers aren’t very good at relationships, huh?"

We drove the rest of the way in silence.

Damien’s penthouse was in one of the most exclusive parts of the city.

As we pulled into the parking garage, I pulled out my phone and texted my head of security: Take positions around the building. All exits covered. If he tries to run, stop him.

The response came immediately: Understood, sir.

Damien and I rode the elevator up in tense silence.

When the doors opened, I could see his living room through the partially open door at the end of the hall.

And sitting in an armchair facing the door, with a gun pointed directly at us, was my father.

Damien and I both froze.

He looked terrible - older than few nights ago, his face haggard and weathered, his beard wild and unkempt. His eyes had that manic gleam I remembered from the worst days before the psychiatric hospital.

But his hand was steady on the gun.

"Hello, boys," he said, his voice cold. "Nice of you to drop by."

"Dad," Damien said, his voice casual, friendly, like he was greeting someone at a party instead of a armed madman. "Come on, put the gun down. It’s just us."

He took a step forward.

"DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!" Our father’s voice cracked like a whip, and Damien froze. "Stay right there where I can see you, you cowardly little shit."

Damien’s eyebrows rose. "Cowardly? Dad, what are you..."

"You think I’m stupid?" Our father laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think I don’t know what you did? We had a plan, Damien. We agreed. You were going to finish off that little bitch Olivia at the hospital while I dealt with the aftermath. But instead, you ran straight to your precious brother and brought him here."

My head snapped toward Damien, heat flooding my veins.

What?

Damien was supposed to kill Olivia at the hospital?

Damien caught my look and just shrugged, his expression unreadable.

"I had to bring Maxwell into our plans, Dad," he said, turning back to our father with that same easy tone. "He’s part of this family. We need him on our side."

"Need him?" Our father’s voice rose to a near-shout. "We don’t need him! He’s useless! Weak! He chose that woman over his own family! He locked me in that godforsaken psychiatric hospital and authorized those chains that nearly killed me!"

The gun was shaking now, and I could see his finger twitching on the trigger.

"He doesn’t deserve to run Wellington and Sons," our father continued, his voice dropping to something venomous. "You should be running the company, Damien. Not this pathetic excuse for a son. He destroyed my life. He deserves to die for what he did to me."

"Maxwell doesn’t have a choice," Damien said, and something in his tone made my blood run cold. "He’ll join us. He has to."

Then, in one smooth motion, Damien reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.

And pointed it directly at me.

I went rigid, my mind racing.

He’s just playing along, I told myself. He’s trying to gain Dad’s trust. He’s on my side.

Right?

But as I stared at my brother - at the gun in his hand, at the unreadable expression on his face, at the way he stood between me and our psychotic father - doubt crept in.

Damien had always made jokes about how he should be the one running things. Jokes that’d sounded like jealousy. Had always been the one our father favored before the mental illness took over.

What if this wasn’t an act?

What if Damien really was on our father’s side?

What if my own brother was about to kill me?

"Damien," I said slowly, carefully. "What are you doing?"

He looked at me, and I couldn’t read his expression at all.

"What I have to," he said.

And I had no idea if that meant he was saving me or betraying me.

The gun in his hand didn’t waver.

And I realized, with a cold, sinking certainty, that I might’ve been tricked into coming here.

To die.