Chapter 37: Challenge

Knoxville pulled into the usual spot, the dimly lit parking lot shrouded in mystery. He instructed Henry to pack the car, his voice low and cautious.

Henry complied, his brow furrowed. "Why has he invited you here again?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

Knoxville's eyes narrowed. "We'll find out. I'm here because he mentioned Electra," he replied, his voice measured.

Henry's expression turned skeptical. "I'm sure he's just here to spite you and nothing more," he suggested, his voice tinged with protective instincts.

Knoxville's jaw clenched. "I'll wait and see." His gaze scanned the surrounding area, senses on high alert.

Just then, the distant hum of a car engine grew louder, and the horns pierced the night air. Knoxville's eyes locked onto the approaching vehicle.

A sleek black sedan rolled into the parking lot, its tinted windows reflecting the faint moonlight. The driver's door swung open, and a tall, imposing figure emerged.

Knoxville's eyes locked onto the figure standing beside his window, his jaw clenched. "The son of a bitch is here," he muttered, his teeth clicking together.

A knock on the window broke the tension. Knoxville scoffed before winding down the glass.

"You must have waited for me, half-brother," Maxwell said, a sarcastic smile spreading across his face.

Knoxville, raised an eyebrow. "I think it's time you start knowing the essence of time. You're late."

Maxwell calm demeanor only fueled Knoxville's anger. "I know, that's because there's traffic. Are you going to come down?" he asked, his patience wearing thin.

Knoxville chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "Then I guess I have to hit you with the door before coming out. Since you're not going to move aside."

Maxwell's expression remained unfazed, but his eyes flashed with warning. "Don't play games, Knoxville. We need to talk."

Knoxville's smirk grew wider as he opened the door, intentionally swinging it wide enough to force Maxwell to step back.

"Let's talk, then," Knoxville said, his voice dripping with hostility. "But make it quick. I don't have all night for your games."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with frustration. "We can talk outside, are you afraid to come inside?"

Knoxville's brow furrowed, his gaze scanning the familiar facade of the house. "Why should I come inside?" he asked, his tone wary.

Maxwell's expression turned sentimental. "Are you scared of coming inside? Remember, this is our house, the house where we celebrated our Christmas and New Year's Eve before Mom passed away."

The mention of his mother struck a nerve. Knoxville's face twisted in disdain. "That's more reason why I hate it here," he spat.

Maxwell's eyes widened, hurt flickering across his face. "Knoxville, don't say that."

Knoxville scoffed, his words dripping with venom. "Everything about you and your mother disgusts me. The memories, the laughter, the lies... all of it."

Maxwell's voice carried a hint of nostalgia. "Then I guess you don't want to hear what I'm about to say. I have such good memories here."

He turned, walking towards the building, leaving Knoxville behind. Knoxville's fists clenched, his eyes fixed on Maxwell's retreating back.

Memories flooded his mind: the slap from his father for accidentally knocking Maxwell to the floor, his mother's dramatic tears, and the crippling guilt that followed.

The pain and anger simmered, threatening to boil over.

Henry's gentle voice broke the spell. "I think you should go inside, sir."

Knoxville's gaze snapped to Henry, his expression a mask of controlled emotion. "I'll stay here," he said, his voice low and even.

Henry's eyes conveyed understanding, but his tone remained firm. "It's better to hear him out, Knoxville."

Knoxville's jaw clenched, doubts creeping in. Should he confront the past or leave it buried?

The sound of Maxwell's footsteps fading into the house echoed through the silence.

"Sir?" Henry prompted.

Knoxville's eyes locked onto the open door, the darkness within beckoning. He took a deep breath and followed Maxwell into the house, the weight of his memories heavy on his shoulders..

Maxwell's eyes sparkled with nostalgia. "Don't you see, brother, this is a good memory? The house has never been cleaner. I guess it's because they get it cleaned every week."

Knoxville's impatience grew. "Can you get straight to the point and stop beating around the bush?"

Maxwell burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. "Why are you in such a hurry, gosh! You know I can't talk under pressure."

He walked over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. "I invited you here, and I need to take my time. That's why I need something refreshing."

Maxwell pulled out two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade, his movements deliberate. "Let's enjoy this moment, Knoxville. We haven't been together like this in ages."

Knoxville's frustration simmered. "Cut the act, Maxwell. What do you want?"

Maxwell poured the lemonade, his smile unwavering. "Patience, brother. All will be revealed."

The tension between them was palpable, Knoxville's agitation contrasting with Maxwell's calm demeanor.

"Fine," Knoxville said, his voice tight. "I'll play along. But make it quick."

Maxwell's smirk grew wider. "Good, you're complying, half-brother."

Knoxville's eyes narrowed. "Are you here to spite me?"

Maxwell's expression turned nonchalant. "I guess that's part of it. But before then, let me get some wine. I think I'll go with Mom's best vintage."

He walked to the refrigerator, his movements deliberate.

"Step-brother, you must feel so bad," Maxwell said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "because Dad filled this place with most of Mom's memories."

Knoxville scoffed, his face twisted in disgust. "You must think this is funny right now?"

Maxwell nodded, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It's funny," he replied, his voice laced with mockery.

Knoxville's anger simmered, his fists clenched. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Rubbing it in my face."

Maxwell poured two glasses of wine, his movements unhurried. "Just reminiscing, Knoxville. You should try it."

The tension between them was palpable, Knoxville's agitation contrasting with Maxwell's calm demeanor.

"Stop playing games, Maxwell," Knoxville warned, his voice low.

Maxwell handed Knoxville a glass. "No games, brother. Just truth."

Their eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken animosity.

"Drink with me," Maxwell said, his smile cold. "To Mom's memory."

Knoxville's gaze lingered on the glass before raising it in a silent toast.

"Did you know what I enjoyed the most?" Maxwell asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Thinking you've won, and thinking you can boss me around," Knoxville spat, his voice venomous.

Maxwell burst into maniacal laughter, the sound echoing through the room. "You're right, but that's not all," he said, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"What always interested me the most is knowing your weakness and making use of it," Maxwell continued, his voice dripping with malice.

"It was so easy to get you here by mentioning her name," he taunted, referring to Electra.

Knoxville's anger boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, the sound crackling through the tension.

He shot up from his seat, dragging Maxwell up by his collar. "Are you crazy? How dare you!" Knoxville growled.

Maxwell's grin never wavered, even as his feet dangled off the floor. "You're so predictable, Knoxville," he sneered.

Knoxville's face twisted in rage, his eyes blazing with fury. "You're pushing your luck, Maxwell," he snarled.

The air was electric with tension, the two brothers locked in a fierce standoff.

Maxwell's words cut deep, his tone dripping with mockery. "Are you going to hit me? If you do, and I get wounded, I'll blame it on you. And I'll tell your ex-wife, Electra, all about it."

He paused, relishing the tension.

"Imagine her running to you, saying, 'How dare you hit my boyfriend!' Would she still care about you after all these years?" Maxwell taunted.

Knoxville's anger simmered, but Maxwell's words struck a chord. He let go, his grip releasing.

"I'll leave you to your games, but I won't let you hurt her," Knoxville warned, his voice low.

Maxwell's smirk grew wider. "You're the one who hurt her by divorcing her. It's been almost six years now. Aren't you supposed to let go?"

He took a step closer, his eyes glinting.

"You're still clinging to the past, Knoxville. Electra has moved on. She's happy with me."

Knoxville's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing.

"Stay away from her, Maxwell. She deserves better than you."

Maxwell chuckled. "You're still protective of her, even after all these years. That's pathetic."

"I am warning you" Knoxville warned..

"When you know you're not goin

g to let go easily, why let her go in the first place?. Fate has its way of making the loser a winner" Maxwell said, and fell onto the sofa enjoying the scene.