“Who the hell do you think you are? Letting her drink? Huh?” Max arched an eyebrow, then mmed Quentin’s head against the table with a heavy hand.


    Quentin’s date shrieked, but the moment Max shot her a cold re, she copsed to the floor, clutching her mouth, not daring to make a sound.


    “Brother? You think you deserve that title? What, am I dead <i>to </i>you?” Each sentence dropped softer than thest, until Max was practically whispering in Quentin’s ear–but the words sent a chill straight down Quentin’s spine.


    “You wantpany? I don’t mind sending you on a little trip–straight to hell.”


    He yanked Quentin around again and again, as if he were nothing more than a limp rag doll.


    “I’m sorry, Max, I swear I didn’t know she was with you! I didn’t do anything to her, please, just let me go. I’m begging you, Max, please-”


    Quentin had assumed that after being cast out by the Tate family for being the unwanted daughter, Alessia must have found herself some rich sugar daddy–never in his wildest dreams did he imagine she’d show up with Max.


    Everyone knew those two were the most infamous feuding siblings in their circle. If they could help it, they wouldn’t even appear at the same public event. Who could have guessed Alessia would walk in with Max tonight? If Quentin had known, he wouldn’t have set foot in that restaurant for all the money in the world.


    He kept pleading, desperate. If Max let him go, Quentin probably would’ve dropped to his knees and groveled on the spot.


    “Lessie! Are you okay?” Just then, Ethan appeared with the restaurant manager in


    tow.


    “Miss Morton!” The manager’s face went white as a sheet. He looked like he might faint any second.


    “Take care of the mess. And put this bottle of wine on Mr. Lane’s tab–he ordered it.” Alessia sat calmly in her chair the entire time, not even flinching when Max started throwing punches. She watched, icy–cool, not a trace of fear in her eyes.


    “Y–yes, of course!” The manager wiped sweat from his brow and hurried off to find help, sending Ethan along with him. Ethan only left Alessia’s side after confirming she wasn’t hurt.


    14:45


    Chapter <b>92 </b>


    “Alright, call the police,” she said–clearly talking to Max.


    With a flick of Max’s hand, Quentin crumpled to the floor like a discarded sack. His date rushed over, frantically calling his name, panic etched on her face.


    The hospital results came in, statements were taken, and by the time it was all over, the sky was pitch–ck. Quentin had a mild concussion. His father arrived, ranting and raving about pressing charges–right up until he saw Max. Then he went silent.


    In the end, Alessia turned the tables and pressed charges against Quentin for sexual harassment of a minor.


    Later, Max and Alessia stepped out of the police station and found Ethan waiting by a streemp. He was still in his restaurant uniform, clearly having rushed over the moment he could.


    “How long are you nning to keep up this charade of ying paupers?” Max


    asked.


    “It’s kind of fun, don’t you think?” Alessia shot a nce at Ethan, standing not far


    away.


    “See you.” She waved at Max without looking back, then walked straight toward Ethan.


    Max melted into the shadows, his eyes cold and predatory, like a panther lurking in the dark, tracking the pair under the streemp–a real brother and sister, close and familiar–until they finally disappeared down the street. Only then did he head to


    his car.


    “Hey, did I keep you waiting long?”


    Ethan looked at Alessia, a tangle of emotions flickering across his face. If it had been Ileana, she’d probably be crying and shaking right now. But Alessia? She acted as if nothing had happened.


    He couldn’t help but recall the look in Alessia’s eyes as she watched Max beat


    Quentin.


    Calm. As still and cold as a frozenke.


    Ethan was pretty sure–if Max had beaten Quentin to death right in front of her, Alessia’s heart wouldn’t have skipped a single beat.