As the Southern Wind Moves On

Chapter 5---Mr. Harrington's Breakfast

When I said that, Ariana Whitmore's delicate face froze.

Her dark eyes dimmed as she turned back to Maxwell Harrington, tugging at his sleeve and whispering, "Maxwell, I was too selfish last night and disturbed you and Elara.

Could you please let her stay and have breakfast with us? It'll be my apology. Please?"

I…

Heh, indeed, some people don't need to try hard—they just need to pout and play weak to get what others can't achieve.

Maxwell Harrington had been indifferent to my presence, but upon hearing Ariana's request, he glanced at me and said, "Eat together."

Cold, commanding tone.

Does it hurt? I'm used to it.

Forcing a smile, I nodded. "Thank you."

I've never been able to fully reject Maxwell Harrington. When you fall for someone at first sight, letting go for a lifetime is nearly impossible.

Three lifetimes of luck—I was eating Maxwell Harrington's breakfast for the first time. Fried eggs and mung bean porridge—ordinary, yet extraordinary. I'd always believed men like Maxwell Harrington were cradled by God himself. His hands were meant to command empires, not flip eggs.

"Elara, try the egg Maxwell made. It's delicious. When we were together, he used to cook them for me all the time," Ariana said, placing an egg into my bowl.

Then, with a sweet smile, she served one to Maxwell too. "Maxwell, you promised to take me to Crownheart to see the flowers today. Don't break your promise, okay?"

"Mm." Maxwell responded, eating his breakfast with elegant restraint. He rarely spoke, but with Ariana, he seemed to answer every question and fulfill every request.

Elias Montgomery, meanwhile, calmly continued his meal, watching us like an outsider.

I lowered my eyes, frowning. Today was grandfather's funeral. If Maxwell left with Ariana, what about the Harrington Manor?

No one could enjoy this breakfast. After a few bites, I set down my chopsticks and followed Maxwell as he finished and headed upstairs to change.

Bedroom.

Maxwell knew I was behind him. His voice was indifferent. "Something?"

As he spoke, he casually removed his shirt, revealing his toned body to the air. Instinctively, I turned my back to him. "Today is grandfather's funeral."

Behind me, the rustling of clothes, the sound of a belt and zipper. Then his cold reply, "You go."

I frowned. "Maxwell, he was your grandfather." He was the eldest son of the Harrington family. If he wasn't there, what would the others think?

"I've already told Gideon Westfall to handle the burial. For other details, coordinate with him." He said it emotionlessly, as if discussing something trivial.

As he turned toward the study, I raised my voice, aching inside, "Maxwell, is it true that to you, everyone except Ariana is expendable? What does family mean to you?"

He stopped. Turned back. His dark eyes narrowed, his posture icy. "Harrington family matters don't concern you. Don't come here making noise."

A pause. Then his thin lips curled in bitter sarcasm. "You're not worthy."

Those few words hit me like a bucket of ice water, chilling me to the bone.

Hearing his footsteps fade away, I laughed bitterly.

Not worthy.

Heh.

After two years, I still couldn't warm a block of ice.

"Thought you were just shameless," a mocking voice came from the side, "but turns out you also love meddling in other people's business."

I turned. Ariana was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her innocent look gone, replaced by coldness.