Maxwell lunged forward and caught Martin's wrist just as his fingers brushed the bedroom doorknob.
The click never came.
"Go ahead," Maxwell said coldly, his voice stripped of warmth. "Check for yourself. Maybe it's actually your daughter I'm fucking inside."
For a heartbeat, the air froze.
Then…
Martin slowly removed his hand from the door.
The silence shattered as he spun back and slammed his fist into Maxwell's face.
The impact burned.
Maxwell staggered, tasting iron. Pain bloomed along his jaw as his head snapped to the side.
"How dare you spew such filth!" Martin roared.
Maxwell wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. When he looked at it, he laughed—low, bitter, almost broken.
"Isn't that how low you think of me?" he snapped, anger finally clawing its way out.
"You never saw me as your son. Just a stray you dragged in out of pity."
His chest heaved.
"What did I ever do wrong to you?" he yelled.
Martin's eyes hardened. "You ungrateful bastard."
He stepped closer, towering over him.
"If I hadn't helped you back then, you wouldn't even be alive!"
Maxwell's fists clenched, veins rising along his neck. "I wish you had let me die. That would've been better than living as someone's dog."
Martin's expression darkened.
"I'm forgiving you this time, Maxwell," he said slowly. "But the next time you speak with such mannerless…"
Maxwell didn't flinch. He stared straight into Martin's eyes, his face burning with fury.
Martin leaned in, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"Don't blame me when your life becomes unbearable. You might even end up like your father. He was stubborn too. He didn't listen. And he paid the price."
He tapped Maxwell's shoulder lightly—as if delivering a casual warning—then turned back to the door.
"Someone in the Singapore branch is tampering with my company's figures," he added casually.
Maxwell said nothing.
"I'm flying out tomorrow morning. You'll handle The Diamond Enterprise while I'm gone."
His hand rested on the door.
"And take care of Annabella. Make sure you do it right."
Then he walked away.
The door shut.
Maxwell remained frozen, Martin's words looping violently in his mind.
*You might end up just like your dad. He didn't listen. That's why he suffered the consequences.*
His breath hitched.
What really happened to his parents?
Did they truly die from a fire caused by an open gas burner—carelessness, accident?
Or was there… another truth?
His gaze drifted to the closed door.
"I'll find out what really happened that day," He whispered into the silence. "No matter what."
…
He walked back into the bedroom.
Annabella was still lying on the bed, her eyes tracing the ceiling, lost in thought.
Maxwell exhaled slowly.
Thank God the walls were soundproof. She didn't hear any of the commotion.
He closed the door softly—but the faint click was enough.
"You're back!" Annabella said brightly, jumping off the bed. A smile flashing across her face—until she noticed his mouth.
Her smile vanished.
"Your… lips," she whispered.
"Oh. It's nothing." Maxwell wiped it again, realizing too late that the blood was still there.
"Did Dad do that to you?" Annabella asked, tears instantly pooling in her eyes.
"No, Ana," he lied quickly. "I just hit something."
She shook her head, voice trembling. "I'm not a fool, brother. Don't lie to me."
Maxwell stayed silent.
"I'll talk to Dad," she said, already turning toward the door. "He can't keep treating you this way."
"No, Ana." He caught her arm gently but urgently.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "To tell him you were in my room this late at night?"
"And so what if I do?" she snapped. "You're my brother."
That word hit him like a slap.
"Exactly," Maxwell snapped, turning away too quickly. "And that's the problem."
Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.
When he turned back, she was crying.
Tears spilled from her eyes.
Maxwell's chest tightened.
Seeing her cry shattered something in him.
He moved toward her without thinking, stopping only inches away. He could smell her familiar warm, dangerously comforting. His hands hovered at her shoulders, unsure whether to pull her close or push her away.
"Do you know what almost happened?" he asked quietly, voice trembling. "Do you understand how close we were to crossing a line we can't uncross?"
Her breath hitched.
"I trust you," she said, so softly. "I know you would never do something that would hurt me. I feel safe with you."
That was the worst thing she could've said.
He closed his eyes, jaw clenched, fighting an urge that scared him more than Martin ever had.
"I'm not safe," he admitted. "Not with you this close."
He turned away, dragging his hands through his hair, breathing hard. He needed to make her understand. Because if she kept pushing, one day he might not stop himself—and that thought terrified him.
He turned back, eyes red.
He held her shoulders again.
"Listen to me, Ana," he said softly.
"We're not kids anymore. We can't cling to each other like before. I'm a normal man… I have feelings. and you're not that little girl anymore."
His voice trembled.
"I'm afraid that one day, I might actually hurt you."
Her lips quivered. "Are you… telling me to stay away from you?"
"For now," he said quietly. "We stay at our junctions. We don't cross limits. That's the right thing to do."
"No!" She threw her arms around him. Hugging him tightly. "I won't stay away. I can't."
Her sobs soaked into his chest.
For one terrifying second, he didn't move.
His heart felt unbearably heavy. Tears escaped his eyes.
He didn't want this either.
But she was young. Naive. And he couldn't ruin her future.
Then he pulled her hands away—slowly, carefully, like defusing a bomb.
"We need boundaries," he said, forcing the words out. "Because I don't trust myself."
Tears slid down her cheeks again.
"You're pushing me away."
"I'm protecting you," he said hoarsely. "From me."
"Come on, Ana," He cupped her face.
"I'm not saying we stop caring. I'm saying we set boundaries."
He hesitated, glancing at her dress.
"No more hugging. No kissing. And no approaching me dressed like this."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Just say you don't want me anymore."
"No, Ana…"
She pulled away.
Wiping her tears, she ran out.
Maxwell took a step forward—then stopped himself.
This was the reality they both had to face.
He collapsed onto the bed, head bowed, fingers tangled in his hair.
The look in Annabella's eyes haunted him.
He hated seeing her cry.
And tonight, he was the reason.
…
Annabella locked her door and slid down behind it.
She covered her mouth as sobs tore through her body.
The thought of Maxwell staying away from her felt unbearable.
She knew she crossed the line. She knew kissing him that deep was wrong.
But she did it intentionally.
She didn't want any woman near him.
All her life, she rejected every man. All she ever wanted was to have her brother by her side. She wanted only him.
He cared for her in ways no one else ever did—and somewhere along the way, she stopped seeing the line.
She curled up on the rug, tears slipping silently.
For the first time, she allowed herself to recall the truth.
He wasn't even her real brother.
Sleep eventually claimed her—eyes swollen, heart aching.
☆
☆
☆
[Morning — The Next Day]
•
The shrill ring of Annabella's phone cut through her sleep.
She groaned softly, eyes fluttering open as she stretched. Her body felt heavy, achy—twisted from a restless night spent clinging to the edge of the bed.
She dragged herself upright, hair falling into her face, and crawled across the mattress to grab the phone.
"What's up," she muttered, voice rough with sleep as she pressed it to her ear.
"Don't tell me you're just waking up," Evelyn's voice burst through the line.
"Yeah. And so?" Annabella replied lazily, sinking back against the headboard.
"It's past ten!" Evelyn screeched. "Aren't you going to sign in for the internship?"
"I'm not going to that company," Annabella said flatly, eyes drifting to the ceiling.
"Well, suit yourself. You'll deal with the consequences," Evelyn replied, unfazed. Then her tone shifted—bright, excited. "Guess where I am."
Annabella sighed. "Just tell me."
"I'm at Rodriguez Diamond Enterprise!" Evelyn squealed.
Annabella shot upright. "What?"
"Yes!" Evelyn giggled. "I'm just waiting for your brother to arrive. I've rehearsed all night on how to catch his attention, how to smile, how to…"
"Don't," Annabella interrupted sharply.
There was a pause.
"Don't what?" Evelyn asked.
"Don't do anything stupid," Annabella said, her voice suddenly calm—but tight.
"He hates clingy women. Keep your distance. Be professional. That's what he notices."
"Really?" Evelyn sounded uncertain. "But how will he even look at me if I stay away?"
"Just trust me," Annabella said quietly. "You do trust me, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Evelyn replied. "You know him better than anyone."
Annabella's lips curved faintly.
"Of course," she murmured. *Nobody knows him like I do.*
"Okay," Evelyn said brightly. "I'll hang up now. I don't want to miss even one second of looking at him when he arrives."
The call ended.
Annabella stared at the screen long after it went dark, her fingers tightening around the phone before she tossed it onto the bed.
The doorbell rang.
She glanced at the intercom. "Get in."
Karen entered quietly, pushing in the food trolley. "Good morning, my lady. I brought your breakfast."
"Why here?" Annabella asked absently. "We don't usually have breakfast separately."
"Mr. Rodriguez left early for a business trip," Karen replied, arranging the dishes.
"I know that," Annabella said, her voice sharpening. "But Brother Max is still here, isn't he?"
Karen paused only briefly. "Sir Maxwell already left for the office."
Annabella's chest tightened.
"So… he didn't even bother to check on me," she murmured. No hug. No soft good-morning kiss. Nothing.
"Is he really serious about keeping his distance?" She thought.
"I'm not hungry," she said suddenly. "Help me shower. I'm going out."
Karen followed her into the bathroom without question.
The warm water enveloped Annabella as she leaned back against the tub, eyes closed while Karen worked the foam over her skin. Her thoughts, however, were far from relaxed.
Maxwell left without a word.
Evelyn was already circling him.
The thought burned.
After the bath, she slipped into a white, skin-tight short gown that barely brushed her thighs. Black heels followed. Her hair was styled into a neat bun, exposing her neck. A touch of lip gloss. And a dark shades to complete the vibe.
She studied her reflection.
Perfect.
She grabbed her black bag and walked out.
The staff greeted her as she passed through the living room. She didn't respond. Her chin was lifted, posture flawless—every inch screaming the untouchable heiress.
Outside, the white Bugatti waited. Lius stood by the door, already prepared.
She slid into the back seat. "Morales Corporation."
"Yes, ma'am," Lius replied, starting the engine.
As the car pulled away, Annabella stared out the window, jaw clenched.
Maxwell was drawing lines.
Evelyn was crossing them.
And Annabella hated being powerless.
If she couldn't stop it quietly…
Then she would make sure it wasn't quiet at all.
And if that meant creating a little drama at Morales Cooperation… so be it.
☆
☆
☆
[Morales Corporation]
•
Lius parked the car with a sharp turn right in front of Morales Corporation.
The tires screeched briefly against the polished pavement, drawing attention instantly.
Before anyone could react, he was already out, opening the back door with practiced speed.
People passing by slowed. Heads turned. Conversations stalled.
Annabella stepped out—one foot first, deliberate and elegant—before allowing the rest of her body to follow. She adjusted her sunglasses even though they sat perfectly on her face.
"Wait for me in the car," she told Lius coolly.
"Yes, ma'am."
As she walked toward the building, eyes followed her instinctively.
"If I can get Morales Corporation to cancel my application," she thought calmly, "then Brother Max will have no choice but to let me intern under him."
Her lips curved faintly.
"And Evelyn? She'll disappear on her own."
She stepped up to the reception desk.
"I want to see the CEO," she said, voice smooth and final.
The receptionist barely glanced up from her screen. No admiration. No interest.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I don't need one," Annabella replied.
"Then I'm sorry," the woman said, already returning her attention to the computer. "You can't see him."
Annabella scoffed softly. "Not like I need your permission."
She turned and stopped a male employee passing by.
"Hi," she said, smiling.
He halted abruptly, glancing behind him to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else. "H..hey."
"Which floor is the CEO's office?" she asked sweetly.
He swallowed hard. glancing hungrily at her curves. "The… the fifty-ninth floor."
"Aww," Annabella smiled. "Thank you."
She hugged him briefly.
The man froze. Eyes wide. She stepped away like nothing had happened.
Annabella glanced back at the reception desk, removed her shades just long enough to smirk, then slid them back on.
The receptionist stiffened.
Annabella turned toward the private elevator, her walk slow, confident—almost regal.
Before she could reach it, the receptionist stepped in front of her.
"You can't use this elevator."
Annabella folded her arms. "Why not?"
"That's for VIPs," the woman said pointedly.
Annabella laughed. "VIP?" She removed her shades again. "Meaning ..Very Important Persons?"
"Glad you understand," the receptionist mocked.
"Well," Annabella said coolly, "do I look a less important person to you?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Do you even know who I am?"
"I don't give a damn if you're the Rodriguez hairess," the receptionist snapped. "Here, you're just another intern."
Annabella's eyes darkened. "So you know exactly who I am… and still choose to block me?"
Her smile vanished. "Do you have a death wish?"
Silent follows for a brief second.
"Your threats don't scare me," the receptionist replied, meeting her stare. "The interns are on the sixteenth floor. Use that elevator…or take the stairs. Your choice."
Annabella glanced at the crowded public elevators, irritation burning through her veins.
"There's no way I'm using that," she snapped—and shoved the receptionist aside.
"Security!" the woman screamed. "Security!"
Two guards appeared almost immediately.
"This woman is causing trouble," the receptionist barked. "Drag her out."
The guards approached.
"Please leave quietly, miss," one said coldly.
Annabella looked at the receptionist—who was now smiling.
Then at the guards—tall, muscular, unmoving.
But Annabella Rodriguez was never the one to back out easily.
"What if I refuse?" She asked calmly.
"Then remove her," the receptionist ordered.
The guards stepped closer.
Annabella backed away instinctively—until her heels met the closed elevator doors.
"No more space to run?" one guard mocked.
"Get the fuck out of here," he growled, reaching for her.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open.
Annabella stumbled backward.
"Ahh..!"
A pair of strong arms wrapped firmly around her waist, stopping her fall.
She looked up.
Their eyes locked.
She didn't realize she was staring.
Only then did she understand why Evelyn said *ugly* wasn't even close to describing him.
He was devastating. Sharp jaw. Controlled gaze. Power in every line of his face.
Any girl would fall for him, "Good thing I'm not just any girl." she thought.
"Looked enough?" Felix asked quietly.
Annabella snapped out of it, pulling herself out of his arms.
Felix smiled faintly—amused.
Then he turned to the guards.
The warmth vanished.
"What's going on here?" he asked coldly.