Chapter 9 Father's Family

Max's kiss lasted only a second, but even after pulling away, his face remained close to mine. I shut my eyes, holding my breath as his warm exhale brushed against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Seems safe now," he muttered, leaning back as if nothing had happened. The engine roared to life while I sat frozen, my mind blank except for the lingering sensation of his lips.

I stared out the window, pretending to admire the view, though the world outside was a blur. My heart still hadn't caught up with my body, and I felt like I'd left pieces of myself behind in that kiss-confused, trembling, burning.

This was the second time. And just like before, it left my heart racing.

Why did he kiss me so easily? I had no experience with men-no defenses against the way his touch unraveled me.

To Max, kissing was probably trivial. No, not just kissing. He likely knew exactly how to seduce someone.

But not me. My entire body trembled when his lips met mine. And last night-when his fingers traced my most intimate places-I'd nearly shattered.

Damn it. My face burned just remembering it.

Meanwhile, Max looked utterly unfazed. Infuriating. He'd kissed me without a second thought, while I was left half-mad trying to process it. Of course he was used to this. And of course I was the one overthinking it.

I curled my fingers into fists on my lap, hoping to steady myself. His indifference shouldn't sting-but it did. As if I was just another task on his list, another girl to protect, not someone who'd been barely held together before he barged into my life.

"Claire's men seem to be everywhere," he remarked, snapping me back to reality. My body tensed.

"A-are they looking for me?" My voice wavered. Pathetic. Even now, I could still feel the ghost of his kiss.

"No. Claire's henchmen are always scouting for new victims to drag into her brothel," he explained. I cleared my throat, desperate to shake off the awkwardness. His kiss had stolen my breath-literally.

"That's why you never leave the house alone. We don't know where they'll appear."

I turned my face slightly, watching his profile. Even now, the muscle in his jaw ticked with tension. He wasn't just worried for me-he was ready to fight. To kill, if he had to. The realization sent a chill down my spine.

A heavy silence settled between us before he finally asked, "Did we forget anything?"

"No. We got everything."

"Tell me if you need anything else," he said, accelerating smoothly.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll take you to the Davis estate. Claudia Davis lives there-Patrick Davis's second wife. She's the most influential figure in the household now."

"Who's Patrick Davis?" I frowned.

"Your grandfather. Hans Davis's father."

Grandfather. A word that felt distant and foreign on my tongue. I had no image to attach to it-no bedtime stories, no wrinkled hands reaching for me, no warmth. Just a name. A ghost of someone who should've mattered.

I struggled to memorize the names. My own family tree was a mystery to me.

"Is Grandfather... still alive?"

"Yes. But he's bedridden-paralyzed and ill."

"Claudia has two children with her first husband: Mark and Selena Davis. Your father's half-siblings."

I nodded slowly. So the Davis estate was controlled by outsiders.

"Mark is married with one son, Brian. Selena divorced years ago and never remarried."

"Do they all live together?" I tried picturing the crowded mansion.

"Patrick built separate houses within the estate for his stepchildren. Claudia lives in the main house."

"Were they the ones who drove my mother away?" My voice dropped.

"Yes. They spread lies about Emily's affair, making Hans banish her."

My nails dug into my palms as I imagined it-my mother, humiliated and heartbroken, forced to walk away from the life she'd built. From the man she loved. From the family that never truly accepted her. And I, just a baby then, carried in her arms as she faced that cruelty alone.

My chest ached. I could almost see my mother-carrying me as a baby-cast out onto the streets.

I pictured her standing at the mansion gates, face streaked with tears, begging Hans to listen-only to have the door slammed in her face. And now, decades later, I was returning to that same place, but not as a daughter. As a maid. As a stranger.

As Max fell silent, I drowned in my thoughts. What would I even do working at my father's estate? First, I needed to see the faces of those who ruined Mother's life.

"You're thinking too hard," Max observed.

"Just daydreaming," I lied.

"About your father's family?"

I shrugged. I didn't know what I was feeling.

"I don't want to care... but I'm curious."

"Your father's last wish was to keep you far from the Davises. If they discover you're alive-and near them-they won't be pleased."

"Why were they so determined to destroy my family?"

Max didn't answer immediately. His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening as if he too carried the weight of that question. The silence between us turned heavier-thick with secrets neither of us wanted to say out loud.

"Because your mother was never meant to belong in their world," he said at last, voice low. "Emily was kind, clever... but she was too bright for people who live in shadows. Claudia couldn't stand it. She needed to dim her light-to make her disappear."

The words struck deep. I bit the inside of my cheek, struggling to hold back the surge of anger and grief clawing its way up my throat. It wasn't fair. My mother had loved my father. She hadn't deserved betrayal-let alone exile.

I looked down at my hands, tracing the faint scar on my thumb-one I got as a child, falling off a broken chair in the tiny apartment we'd lived in. My mother had patched me up with trembling fingers and whispered promises that things would get better.

They never did. Not really.(*)