Chapter 102 Chapter 102
Maxwell
My phone buzzed sharply against the wooden table just as I stepped into the living room. The house felt alive, more chaotic than it had in years. Laughter floated in from the kitchen, bright and careless, mixed with the clatter of bowls and Cynthia’s slightly frantic voice trying to keep some sense of order.
I glanced at the screen and answered quickly. “Yes.”
“Sir,” my security guard’s voice came through the line, steady but cautious. “Your brother is at the estate gate. Should we let him in?”
My jaw tightened instinctively. I froze for a moment, staring toward the kitchen where the girls’ laughter still rang out. Finally, I spoke. “No,” I said firmly. “Don’t let him in.”
There was a brief silence on the other end,I swallowed, then added, “I will meet him outside the gate. Right now.”
“Yes, sir,” my guard replied, and I ended the call, sliding the phone back into my pocket.
I wasn’t ready for Declan to see the girls—not yet or ever. I had only just begun to understand them, to let them see me as someone they could trust. Every day, I worked to be more than a stranger in their eyes, more than the figure who carried the name of their father. The thought of Declan stepping in, of disrupting the fragile trust we were building, made my stomach tighten. I would never let him near them again—not even if Mom or Dad begged me.
I glanced back toward the kitchen. The girls were laughing again, and for a moment, I let myself just watch them. They were so small, so vulnerable, and yet so full of life.
Grateful to Mom for still being here and helping me care for them. I couldn’t have managed this without her.
I turned toward the kitchen, and the moment I stepped into the doorway, something soft hit my chest. White powder burst into the air. Flour. Ayla stood right in front of me, her small hands still raised as if she had just thrown it. Her hair and clothes were already dusted with flour, and judging by the mess around the kitchen, they had been baking for hours.
The counter was a disaster—flour bags open, eggshells everywhere. My mother stood near the stove with Cynthia, both looking completely worn out.
Ayla blinked up at me slowly, then dropped her eyes to my shirt, now covered in flour. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she said quickly. I knelt in front of her, brushing it off with a soft smile.
Just then, a bowl slipped from the counter and crashed to the floor. The girls jumped. Ayla leapt into my arms, while the others clung tightly to Mom and Cynthia, clearly scared.
Mom had insisted we get them to see a therapist. They were easily frightened and could be very clingy. Being kidnapped and losing their sister had been traumatic, and though they tried to act strong and normal, I could still see the fear lingering in their eyes.
“You are safe,” I told Ayla, hugging her tightly. “Daddy and Grandma are here. Nothing will happen to you.” I gestured to the other girls, and they ran over, throwing themselves into my arms. “You are safe with me. I will protect you with my life,” I said, patting their little backs.
After a few seconds, they ran back to Mom and Cynthia to continue baking. I turned toward the door. “I’m heading outside. I’ll be back soon.” Mom nodded.
“Can we come with you?” Alina asked, pouting. The others joined in, but I shook my head. “It’s work. It will barely take five minutes. I will be back before you know it.”
I hurried to the gate. Declan was standing there, fuming, arguing with the guard. The moment he saw me, he froze and turned fully to face me.
“Here comes almighty Maxwell Sinclair,” Declan shouted, his voice echoing across the gate, thick with venom. “The only man pussy-whipped enough to almost kill his own brother over a woman, throw him out of the house, and now won’t let me into my own estate because of some useless—” He spat the words like poison. “—woman who’s been with half the men in New York.”
I didn’t answer at first. I didn’t have the energy to trade insults or throw punches, he was completely irredeemable. His words were empty threats, designed to get under my skin, but I kept my gaze steady. “What are you doing here?” I finally asked, my voice calm, controlled.
He stepped forward, smirking like he had all the time in the world. “I am here to see the girls,” he said casually, as if it was a usual routine for him. “I heard they have been released. I’m sure they missed me, just like I missed them.”
I dug my hands into my pockets, forcing myself to stay composed. “You are not allowed near the girls anymore,” I said firmly, meeting his eyes. “Not at school, not in the house, nowhere. Don’t ever come here again. You have done enough already. I won’t let you ruin them any further.”
Declan’s smile widened, sharp and cruel, his eyes glinting with malice. “Scared they might love me more than they love you? Or crave me more than you—or even their mother?” He paused, letting the words hang, then leaned closer. “Oh, and I heard about Aria. I’m here to comfort the girls, she was my absolute favorite.”
Heat rose in my chest, but I forced myself to remain still. Every instinct screamed at me to strike, to end him right there, but I knew that wouldn’t protect the girls. “If I were you,” I said slowly, my voice low and dangerous, “you’d leave these premises before you end up in a body bag.”
I gestured toward my security. “If he even steps this close again, shoot his feet. I give you permission. And if I see him near my gate again, start looking for jobs elsewhere.”
Declan’s laughter rang out, cruel and mocking. “You think you have it all,” he said, his voice rising, “but your whole life is falling apart. I’m sure the girls don’t give a damn about you, and one of them is dead and gone—you will never meet her. Your precious woman is in a coma, and I hope she never wakes up. You both deserve a life of pain and misery.”
I could feel my hands clench into fists, my teeth grinding, but I forced myself to breathe. Every word he spat at me, every twisted smile, only strengthened my resolve. These girls were mine to protect. I would not let him, or anyone else, touch them again. Not now, not ever.
I took a slow step forward, my voice steady but filled with ice. “Leave now, Declan. You are done here. One more word, one more step, and I swear—” I stopped, letting the weight of my words hang in the air. “You will regret it for the rest of your life if you stay.”
For a moment, he stared at me, calculating, sizing me up. Then, with a final sneer, he turned, muttering under his breath, and walked back toward his van. I watched him go, every fiber of my being alert. He doesn’t know what is coming for him.