THE HEIR I WAS MEANT TO HATE

002: INTERFERENCE

~MAXIMUS II~

"We need to talk, Maximus."

The voice grates against my ears the moment I set foot inside the master suite. Francisca is lounging on my bed, dressed in nothing but a sheer lingerie. To the world, she’s a model. To me, she’s a walking migraine with t**s.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice rough. "I just got off a fourteen-hour flight. I’m tired."

She laughs, a sharp, incredulous sound I've grown to despise… because it still stirs something inside me. "Are you serious? Well, good evening to you too. You sneak into your bedroom without even telling me you planned to hire a babysitter for my child?"

"I don’t sneak. I own this house, Francisca. And I don't need your permission to ensure my daughter is cared for."

She huffs in disbelief. "I’m your wife, goddammit!”

“Unfortunately for me.”

“I deserve to know when you're coming home from those slums you visit.”

"Arcata?" I supply.

She watches me undress with possessive eyes. "Yes... wherever the hell that is."

Her indifference shouldn't shock me.

But it still stings that she doesn't even know why I was there.

Arcata was my mother’s home—a place I’ve made it my ritual to visit every year. It’s my only means of contact, even if it will never be physical. It was the place I’d last seen her smile without restraint. It had been her dying wish to be taken back there, but my father—the great tyrant—never allowed it. I didn’t know until it was too late that Arcata had been her sanctuary.

It’s the reason I couldn't keep driving three weeks ago. When I saw that woman on the Lake Street Bridge, it wasn't just a stranger I was seeing through the rain. For a heartbeat, the years stripped away and I was a helpless boy again, angrily watching my mother climb onto her bedroom windowsill.

I couldn't save her twenty years ago. But that night, as I clamped my hand around that stranger’s cold wrist, it felt like I was finally pulling my mother back from the edge. I’d saved her, but I hadn't been able to save her name. I didn't even see her face properly.

"Listen to me." Francisca walks over, her hand landing on my chest. "Over my dead body will I let you hire some unknown woman to take care of my child."

“It was 'your child' who FaceTimed me four weeks ago. Crying because her mother was passed out on the sofa and wouldn't wake up."

Francisca flinches, blue eyes going round. "I... I had a migraine. Bella was only exaggerating. Imagining things."

"Is that right? Bella also said you smelled like 'rotten candy.'" I take a step closer, towering over her. "You promised me, Francisca. You swore you wouldn’t bring your drugs into this house."

"I can explain—"

"But that's not the only thing you've been doing while I was gone, is it?" I unlock my phone and thrust the screen toward her face.

The high-resolution shot shows her entangled with two men from my father’s executive board. Her heart-shaped face goes pale… if that’s even possible.

"This... This isn’t me. It’s AI!"

"AI doesn’t recreate the birthmark on your left hip, Francisca. Don’t insult my intelligence along with our marriage." I toss my shirt onto a chair, disgusted by the very air she breathes. What the hell does she take me for?

"You should be glad I showed that to you and not my father. I doubt he’d take kindly to finding out his perfect daughter-in-law is a w***e and drug addict."

Francisca’s eyes fill up almost instantly. Apart from being a migraine, She’s also a really good actress.

“You can’t blame me! It’s all your fault! You’re never around—choosing to play Jesus for those dirty poor people, in those dirty, smelly places you normally go. What’s a lonely woman supposed to do when you leave her and your only child to rot?”

"Playing Jesus?" I chuckle in exasperation. "I’m gone for a month and you gangbang my father's employees, expose my child to drugs, yet you dare to blame me?"

“It’s not as if you aren’t cheating too!"

“What?”

Her eyes suddenly goes dark, a twisted, seductive smile curling her lips. "If you’re not cheating... prove me wrong. It's been so long since we f****d anyway so…” She shrugs out of the lingerie, standing stark naked, “f**k me. Right now."

Despite my anger, I almost cave in. I can feel the blood rushing south. The bulge straining in my pants.

She sees it too.

I have to give her credit—she’s taken her narcissism to a level I didn’t think was possible.

She walks over, pressing her breasts against my chest, rendering me speechless. “Come on i know you miss me.”

I do. f*****g hell, i do. But… I can’t fall for her l manipulation today.

I grip her wrist before she can trail them down the bulge in pants.

“Enough with that!”

She gasps.”Maximus!”

I bend down, snatch up the scrap of silk from the floor, and fling it at her.

"Cover yourself," I say, trying to regain self control. "And get out."

She scoffs. "You’ll regret this, Maximus! If you think I’ll let you bring some woman to take my place—sleep with her behind my back—“

“And if she wasn’t—'some woman'?” I challenge, watching the fire in her eyes.

“Then I’ll kill myself! Hell, I’ll file for an annulment! You know what that’ll do to your bloody company don’t you? You know what I’m capable of!" I almost roll my eyes at the same old threat.

“I know you need to be locked in a psychiatric ward!”

“f**k you to hell, Maximus!”

She slams the door with enough force to rattle the hinges.

There’s Silence. But my heart is still hammering.

I reach for my mother’s necklace—my anchor—but my fingers brush against empty skin.

Shit. I must have lost it back at Arcata. It’s the only piece of her I had left.

I feel the walls closing in. Suffocating. I can't breathe in here. I need to drown out Fransisca’s voice with work, or I'm going to lose my mind.

I hate how much she gets under my skin. I hate how much her infidelity hurts me. I hate how much I still love her.

Franscisa wants to eat her cake and have it in a gold platter.

Well then, i’ll show her two can play this f****d up game.

I head down the hall to my private office/study. I sink into my mahogany chair and reach for the pile of manila folders from the family company. With my other hand, I dial my assistant’s number.

“You awake, Fredo?”

“Yes, boss. How was your flight back to Las Vegas? Do you need help with the files that were sent over?”

“It was a safe flight. Well there’s something I want—" I pause, a resume catching my eye. Marked for the housekeeping pool at the main estate. My father's house. "Fredo, why am I looking at a housekeeper's resume? This shouldn't be on my desk."

“Oh, that… Your brother Herald wanted you to go through the resume. He said you needed a nanny and caretaker for the young miss. He personally recommends Ava Vance, sir.”

“Did he now?” I scan the details. Herald is the only one of my brothers who doesn’t have his head up our father's ass. If he says someone’s good, I'll take his word for it.

But the file... she’s over-educated, speaks multiple languages, and has a background in child development. Why would anyone with such qualifications apply as a household staff in the first place?

“He’s confident that she’s the best to care for the young miss… when you’re away for business… and in other aspects,” Fredo adds quietly.

Hmm. So she’s a double agent.

I look at the small, grainy photo. The woman is extremely plain—heavy glasses, stubborn chin. The exact eclectic nerd weirdo’s Herald associates with from his basement. She looks safe and capable of handling Bella… but too ugly to provoke Francisca… or maybe that’s exactly what i need.

“And does she know… to be discreet?"

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Tell her to be at the estate by the weekend.” I don't have time for a vetting process while Francisca is losing her mind and driving me insane. If Herald vouches for her, that's enough for me.

~FABIOLA~

The contact lenses are making my eyes itch underneath the heavy, frames of my glasses. It’s a small price to pay for the disguise. I look at the expensive decor of the estate—the marble, the jet project designs littering the grand living room space…the gold, the sheer arrogance of it all.

Blood money. Filthy rich people.

I spot a gold-framed picture of the Old Maximus Alfred, hanging by the staircase. White hair styled elegantly, looking all powerful and sophisticated. My skin crawls. I force my gaze away.

“This way, Miss Vance. Mr. Maximus sends his apologies; he’s been called away for the day, but he wants you settled immediately,” the head maid Claudia says as she leads me to a suite that is larger than the entire apartment Alex and I shared. With glass walls that overlook the entirety of Las Vegas.

Even for billionaires, this seems excessive for a maid.

“Isn’t this a little too much?” I ask. “For a member of the household staff?”

Claudia gives me a smallamused smile as if there’s a secret we should both be sharing. “This is the standard suite for the nanny, Miss Vance. I’m sure you were briefed about this before you came here?”

My heart stops. “Nanny? I… I think there’s been a mistake. I applied for housekeeping.” The person who called literally said that.

That was the plan—mine and Courtney’s.

“Housekeeping, you say?” She shakes her large head, lost in thought. Then she sighs as if finally realizing something. “Oh, dear. That would be for the Maximus I estate. The patriarch.”

“You mean this isn’t the patriarch's estate?” I can feel the hair rising on the back of my neck.

What the f**k is going on?

She glances back as if afraid to be overheard before leaning closer “No it isn’t. This is the Maximus II estate and you’ve been hired here as the primary caretaker for his daughter.”

The blood drains from my face. “Maximus the Second? There are two of them?”

“Yes, Miss Ava. Maximus II is the eldest son. The heir to Alfred jet. This is his home. Only a select few knows about his existence.”

Oh, bloody hell.

A loud bang whips our gaze to the door just as a small blur of pink bursts in, brushing the maid aside to stand right in front of me.

“So you’re the one?” the girl demands. She looks me up and down with quiet disdain. Green eyes narrowed.

“Don’t take offense, Miss Ava…” Claudia laughs nervously, trying to get a hold of the kid. “Meet the young Miss Isabella Alfred. Isabella—this here is Miss Ava Vance, your new—”

“Mummy said you were coming to take Daddy away. But you’re so ugly! Daddy would never pick someone like you.”