2025-06-17 21:20:36
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Chapter 75
Trisha brushed crumbs from her dress, completely unfazed by his corporate jargon. “Oh, right! The business deal.” She picked up the slightly squashed scone from the counter, holding it up like a precious artifact. “It’s right here! This bakery. It’s failing. Terribly. A tragedy, really. And it’s a crime, Max. A crime against humanity not to save these pastries.” She picked up a slightly squashed croissant from a display case, its flaky layers looking a little too flat. “Taste this. It’s… it’s got potential. Hidden potential, like a diamond in the rough. Or a very, very rough diamond.” She offered it to him, her eyes sparkling with an almost childlike enthusiasm.Max raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He took the croissant, examining it. It was clearly past its prime. “You tricked me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact, delivered with a hint of resigned amusement.Trisha’s smile widened, unrepentant, a flash of pure mischief. “Maybe a little
Chapter 74
The email landed in Maxwell Lesley’s inbox with an almost audacious simplicity: "Urgent Business Opportunity - Bakery Acquisition. Meet me at 'The Sugar Plum' at 10 AM sharp. Don't be late. - T. Rossi." Max looked at the screen, a faint frown blurring his forehead, and a twinkle in his jaw. T. Rossi. Trisha Rossi. So the name evoked a burst of bright energy, a pleasureably unorganized muddle which he rarely associated with anyone in his otherwise systematically organized life. Why was Trisha being so lively and even slightly crazy he wondered if she knew. Trisha always somehow managed to charm him despite his usual, almost pathological, aversion to unsolicited business proposals and anything that deviated from his carefully constructed schedule.It was finally over with the Donxiote affair. But despite some untimely fizzle on their waning skyscraper, the devastation of their downfall still washes over the world’s financial markets, and he was looking forward to a brief quiet rest and
Chapter 73
Now that louder and closer, the sirens began to roar, the rumble of the engines tones from the trees, the air pulsing with dark, scary pulses as the lights flashed through the trees. Minutes later police cars lined up on the edge of the mansion, opening their doors, the uniformed officers pulling them out.The Donxiote family, including Lorenzo and Isabella, were led away in handcuffs, their faces grim, their earlier arrogance replaced by a chilling despair. Domingo, bruised and broken, his face a bloody mess, was hauled to his feet by two officers.“You’ll regret this, Roland!” Domingo spat, his voice hoarse, his eyes burning with a promise of retribution that even now, in defeat, refused to die. “I’ll get out! I’ll have my revenge!”Sarah, who had rushed out in the middle of her father and tried to leave, was standing here with her hand on her shoulder, a stony slap running across Domingo’s battered face, finally slapping, and like an instant hit.“Rot in hell Domingo, ” she said ag
Chapter 72
With the cacophony of screaming, shouting and the frantic rush of people looking for space in the ballroom, everyone moved in an orderly fashion. The air was thick with dust now brought down by the falling chandelier, and gave off a faint misty smell of fear, and smoke. Max’s men, now joined by Bucky, moved with a skillful precision, quickly closing in on the remaining members of the Donxiote family — Lorenzo, terrified and sobbing, Isabella, a sister only because of her father’s death — and his loyalists, who were frozen in place, unable to move out of the way.But Domingo was gone.“He’s running! ” Roland yelled into the crowd, his voice blaring out of all the noise and his eyes flashing with a dime sized, horror flicker of eye. He did not wait for Max’s permission, he did not take time out of his life to check. He ran through the pile of people scattering around him fast, a dark blur of motion. “I am going after him! ”Max shouted at Roland: "Roland, wait! " but the sound was too m
Chapter 71
That immense ballroom remained perpetually engulfed by a state of stunned silence, the air so thick with the unspoken weight of Max’s demand. The face of Domingo, as always, was in a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred, a raw, visceral hatred that had contorted his aristocratic features and his eyes – seemingly so controlled – spun from the unshakeable gaze of Max, the pale, terrified faces of his family, to finally his own men, themselves statues, their guns still in their hands but with little move in their hands, suddenly trembling, they were in a bind, very firmly thrown out. Utterly and irrevocably crippled.Slowly, horribly, Domingo sank to his knees. The fabric of his suit, tailor made and expensive, wrinkled as he crawled on his knees, creasing along with his humiliating movements. At his feet, his hands quivering as he reached for Max's foot, he took one of Max's perfectly clean and shiny black shoes off, the leather cool and smooth against his skin. With a loud growl, a sound
Chapter 70
One moment the grand hall was still a gallery of wedding bliss, the next something brutish, like fire. The face of Domingo, normally a mask of arrogance and courtliness, turned into a mask of completely indescribable agony. His eyes, which usually shone with coldcalculating innocence, glowed in blood.“You! You! ” he shouted, his throat screaming in a muffled howl that fluttered in the silence as he stalked toward Max, his hand clutching at something that was nowhere to be found. “You’d be here at my wedding... Kill them! All of them! ”His men; a dozen of dark suit indulging eyes with even colder look, circled Max, Bucky and Roland. There was a glow now in those guns, of a sinister intent, the muzzles straight and steady. The air became heavy, covered by an ozone scent and more violence.Max didn’t flinch. He stood his ground – an image of impassive calm amidst such tumult – and he simply raised his hand in a gesture that suddenly spread through the entire exchange.“Before you do an
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