Unhappily Married by; Rachel N.

Part 10

CHAPTER TEN

Helena had asked Maxwell to remain patient, promising to give him everything Xavier owned, but he wasn't going to fall for her empty promises again. He had done as she said when he and Xavier were younger, and yet, nothing was given to him. Instead, he had to take orders a boy, who had no mother to speak of, and that enraged him even more.

Maxwell's eyes narrowed as he thought about the past, his mind burning with a fierce determination. He had begun to put his own plans into action, and this time, he was bent on taking everything Xavier held dear.

With a calculated smile, Maxwell alighted from his car and stood in front of a nursing home, its faded sign creaking in the gentle breeze. He straightened his jacket, his eyes fixed on the entrance, and walked in with a purposeful stride.

Inside, the reception area was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and aged care. Maxwell approached the desk, his voice firm and commanding. "Mr. Artem," he said, his eyes locked on the nurse.

The nurse, a worn-out woman with a kind face, looked up from her paperwork. "Room 49," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maxwell's smile grew wider as he nodded, his eyes gleaming with a sinister intent. He knew exactly who he was going to visit, and what he was going to do. The game was about to change, and this time, Maxwell was determined to emerge victorious.

In room 49, a man's frail back was turned to the wall, his body slumped in a wheelchair. The air was thick with the scent of stagnation and neglect. Maxwell walked in, his footsteps echoing off the sterile walls, and approached the wheelchair with a calculated calmness. He grasped the handles and spun the chair around, the man's vacant eyes staring into space.

The man was in a catatonic state, his face gaunt and pale, his skin sagging like a deflated balloon. Maxwell's gaze was devoid of empathy as he drew a chair close to the man and sat down, his movements deliberate and slow. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a nail clipper, the metal glinting in the fluorescent light.

With a detached air, Maxwell began clipping the overgrown nails on the man's fingers, the snipping sound filling the room. The man's eyes remained fixed on some distant point, unresponsive to Maxwell's presence. As the clipping continued, Maxwell's eyes never left the man's face, his expression a mask of determination.

"Xavier's giving me troubles," Maxwell said, his voice laced with frustration. "He keeps bothering me when it comes to our business, and now even romantically." He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the catatonic form of the man.

"He's going after the woman I like," Maxwell continued, his tone dripping with resentment. "I don't blame him, though. It's Mother I should blame. She was always pressurizing me to get a girl she could use in controlling Xavier. I had no one in mind and thought it would be better if I used Nikita, and I regret that decision every day."

"I should never have brought her into our home, getting her married to Xavier. It was a mistake." He added.

The man's eyes clouded, and a single tear slid down his cheek as he continued to gaze at a distant point. Maxwell stopped clipping his nails and sat up straight, his eyes locked on the man's vacant expression. "Oh, you can hear me, can't you? Father?" Maxwell's voice was laced with a mix of malice and venom.

He laughed heartily, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. "You know, it may just be better if you and Xavier shared this room. I mean, he misses you a lot." Maxwell's smile was tinged with malice. "Mother would freak out if she ever finds out you're alive, much more that I'm responsible for the accident and keeping you here. Don't worry, you'll soon see your son."