Chapter 4 Breakfast Tension

The sun had barely risen when Roseline opened her eyes. She lay in bed for a moment, her mind already thinking about one thing, 'how can I make Maverick stop being angry at me and Mom?' No matter how cold and distant Maverick was, she couldn't stop hoping. Something inside her told her not to give up, not yet.

She believed there had to be a way to reach him, even if just a little.

After washing up, she tiptoed down the hallway and quietly made her way to the kitchen. The mansion was still quiet, most of the staff not yet moving around. She found the head maid organizing the pantry.

"Uhm... excuse me," Roseline said softly. "Can I please cook breakfast for Maverick?"

The head maid turned and looked at her with surprised eyes. She wasn't used to guests-or family members-asking to cook.

"You want to cook for him, Miss Roseline?" the maid asked kindly.

"Yes," Roseline said with a small smile. "Please. I just want to do something nice for him."

The maid hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But you won't do it alone. I'll stay nearby and help you if you need anything."

Roseline nodded eagerly and got to work.

The first thing she looked for was leftover rice. Her plan was to make garlic fried rice with eggs, corned beef hash, and some sliced veggies on the side. It was her late father's favorite breakfast, and whenever he was angry, his mood would change after one good meal. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'Maverick would react the same way too.'

Roseline was focused on cracking eggs when a deep voice suddenly spoke behind her.

"Roseline? Why are you the one cooking?"

She turned quickly and saw her stepfather standing at the kitchen doorway, looking confused but calm.

"I was planning to make breakfast for Maverick-" she began to explain, but Henrik raised his hand gently.

"No need, sweetheart," he said firmly but kindly. "I didn't bring you and your mom here to be housemaids. There are plenty of helpers in this house. Let them do it."

"But, Dad-" Roseline tried to explain again.

"That's enough, sweetheart," Henrik said once more, smiling and nodding toward the maid, who stepped forward and slowly took the spatula from Roseline's hand.

The young woman bit her lip and gave in, stepping away from the stove. She didn't want to upset Henrik either.

"Just go to the living room," he said warmly. "Watch TV with your mom, relax."

Roseline nodded and quietly walked out of the kitchen. She headed to the living room, where her mother was already sitting on the couch reading a magazine.

"Oh? Why the sulky look?" Alodia asked when she saw her daughter's face.

"It's Dad. He wouldn't let me cook breakfast for Maverick," Roseline replied, dropping onto the sofa beside her mother, crossing her arms like a little girl.

Alodia chuckled softly and reached out to fix a few loose strands of Roseline's hair. "Your Dad is right. You don't need to do everything to win over Maverick. He has people to take care of his needs already. You're not one of the maids, sweetheart."

Roseline sighed. "I just wanted to do something nice..."

Alodia hugged her gently, pressing her daughter close. "I know you do. And that shows your heart is in the right place. Just give it time, my love."

Later that morning, the family sat together at the breakfast table. Plates of warm food were laid out neatly-steaming rice, golden fried eggs, beef steak, and pork chops. Roseline sat quietly across from Maverick, doing her best to act normal.

She kept her head down, but every now and then, she would sneak a glance at him.

They both reached for the plate of beef steak at the same time. Their fingers almost touched. Roseline quickly pulled her hand back.

"You can go first, big brother," she said gently.

Maverick froze. His eyes narrowed. It looked like he was about to scold her again for calling him that nickname-but then, for the first time, he didn't say anything. He just stared at her silently, his jaw clenched.

"Sorry," Roseline whispered, realizing her mistake.

Henrik, trying to lighten the mood, smiled and picked up the platter of pork chops.

"Uhm, just take this one instead, Roseline," he said cheerfully. "You can get the beef after your brother is done."

"Thanks, Dad!" she replied sweetly, giving him a thankful smile as she took the platter.

But across the table, Maverick wasn't smiling. He was gripping his fork and knife too tightly, and his expression darkened with every second.

He suddenly put down his utensils and stood up sharply, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Dad, I'm leaving," he announced, his voice loud and firm. "I think it's better if I just stay at the condo my mom bought for me."

Henrik's smile disappeared in an instant. His voice turned stern. "Sell that condo. We have a big enough house here. You don't need that place-especially since it came from your mother."

"No, Dad!" Maverick shouted, his eyes full of pain and anger. "I'd rather live there alone than stay here with your new family!"

Without waiting for a response, he stormed away from the table and climbed the stairs two steps at a time.

Silence followed. Everyone at the table froze, unsure of what to say. Roseline sat still, her heart heavy with guilt. She had tried so hard, but it seemed her efforts only made things worse.

Alodia quietly reached for her daughter's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze under the table. Roseline didn't speak, but she held her mother's hand tightly.

"Maverick! How many times do I have to tell you-don't turn your back on me when I'm still talking!" Henrik shouted, rising from his chair in anger.

His voice echoed through the dining hall, bouncing off the tall ceilings and polished walls. He looked ready to follow his son, fists clenched at his sides.

But before he could take a step, Alodia quickly moved in front of him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, silently begging him not to make things worse. Her face was calm, but her eyes showed concern.

Meanwhile, Roseline sat frozen in her seat. Her shoulders were tense, and her hands were clutched together on her lap. She hated loud voices. Every shout from Henrik felt like a strike to her heart. She had grown up in a quiet home-arguments were rare. Now, her chest tightened with fear and guilt.

"Maverick! Come back here!" Henrik yelled again, his voice hoarse now. But Maverick didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. Without a single glance back, he stomped up the stairs, each step louder than the last.

Once in his room, Maverick shut the door behind him with a loud thud. His face was burning with emotion-anger, betrayal, exhaustion. He moved quickly, opening his closet and dragging out a large suitcase. He threw it on the bed and began stuffing clothes inside. Shirt after shirt, jacket after jacket-he didn't care if they were folded or not. He just wanted to leave.

Another suitcase followed, and he began filling that one too. But even with two large bags, it wasn't enough to carry all of his things. Still, he didn't stop packing.

His jaw clenched as he moved. He couldn't help but think of everything he had gone through. The pain of being left behind. The nights he waited for his mom to come home. The disappointment in his father's eyes when the marriage ended. And now, the sight of his father smiling at his new wife and stepdaughter like they were some perfect little family? It was too much.

He picked up his phone and called his trusted assistant.

"Dean, come up here and help me," he said quickly. As soon as he ended the call, he returned to his suitcase and zipped it shut.

Just as he grabbed the second one, the door creaked open.

Maverick didn't even look up right away. "Dean, hurry up-" But when he finally turned, it wasn't Dean.

It was Roseline.

She stood quietly at the doorway, her face pale, her eyes worried. Maverick's shoulders stiffened.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked sharply, his voice cold like ice.

Roseline stepped forward slowly, her fingers clutching the hem of her shirt. "You don't have to do that. I'll leave instead," she said in a shaky voice. "Just please... don't go. And don't be mad at Mom."

Maverick was silent. For a brief moment, his angry eyes blinked-just once. When he noticed movement at the door, he glanced over and saw Dean standing there. With a small wave of his hand, Maverick signaled for him to leave. Dean got the message and backed away without a word.

"My decision is final," Maverick said flatly, turning away from Roseline and adjusting the strap of his suitcase. "Wouldn't it be better for you and your mom? You'll have this whole mansion to yourselves. She can live like a queen."

Roseline shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. "Big brother, believe it or not... that's not what we want. Not me. Not Mom. We're not here for money, or this house. We just... we just wanted to be with him. To feel like we belong somewhere."

Maverick looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Something in his expression shifted-just a little. The sharpness in his face softened, but only for a second.

"Do you really think I'm that easy to convince?" he said quietly, but with bitterness in his voice. "I'm not a kid anymore, Roseline. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I believed in fairy tales. I'm not like my dad-so naive, so soft..."

He grabbed both suitcases and was about to leave the room when Roseline suddenly ran toward him-and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

Maverick froze on the spot.

"Please, big brother," she cried, her voice breaking. "Don't go. I don't want anyone else to leave or be hurt... not because of me. If someone has to go, let it be me. Please..."

Tears streamed down her face. Her small hands clung to the back of his shirt, her arms shaking.

Maverick stood like a statue, stiff and unmoving. Her warmth, her voice, her tears-they hit him harder than he expected. He felt something deep inside him stir, something he had long buried. His throat tightened.

But still, he didn't reach for her. He didn't turn around.

"Stay away, Roseline," he said through gritted teeth, each word slower than the last. "And don't you ever do this again."

His voice sounded rough now-not with anger, but with something close to pain.

And for a moment, the room was silent again-filled only with heavy breathing, unspoken feelings, and the sound of a heart quietly breaking.