Chapter <b>194 </b>
“Master Max.. Mae couldn’t help but sound a little hesitant.
“<b>Do </b>you have a problem with that<b>?</b>” Max dabbed his mouth with a <b>napkin</b><b>, </b><b>his </b>tone cool as he flicked a nce at Mae.
Mae shrank back, falling silent immediately. She lowered her head and stood quietly at the side, every inch the deferential housekeeper.
But little Alessia ignored Max’s warning and clutched her backpack, standing firm at his side.
“What now? Want to beg for mercy?” Max looked down at Alessia, who puffed out her cheeks and red right back at him..
“I’m full!” she shot back.
“If you’d rather eat someone else’s cooking than our own chef’s, then maybe I should just fire them all tomorrow.” Max raised an eyebrow. Even at his young age, he already carried the air of someone used to being in charge.
Alessia’s re only grew fiercer, her eyes round with defiance, as if she were ready to start a fight right then and there.
Max let out a coldugh. He was curious to see what this little troublemaker would do next. They stood off, neither one backing down, until Alessia abruptly snatched something from her backpack, shoved it into his hands, and sprinted away.
Max stood there, momentarily stunned. It wasn’t until he heard a bedroom door m upstairs that he looked down, slowly uncrumpling the battered wad of paper
she’d left him.
It was a notice inviting parents to attend the school’s uing sports day.
He read every word, a mocking smile curling on his lips. Yet, contrary to his expression, he folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his pocket, his movements unexpectedly gentle.
Mae noticed all of this but didn’t darement. She had no idea what was written on the paper, but she could sense that her young master’s mood had lightened, the suffocating gloom from dinner nowhere to be found.
In the days that followed, little Alessia dutifully came home for dinner every night. Even so, she and Max hardly spoke <b>a </b>word to each other.
Finally, the day of the sports meet arrived.
12:03
Lessie, <b>the </b>teacher’s celling us to <b>line </b><b>up</b><b>. </b>Young Cole came over to no only <b>to </b><b>see </b><b>her </b>staring <b>off </b>toward the section of the bleachers reserved for
parents.
“<b>Okay</b><b>, </b>I’ming.” Her small, childish voice carried over as she walked <b>toward </b>him–though her head kept turning back, still searching the crowd.
Cole smiled, taking her hand in his own.
“I don’t see Max,” Alessia said, her disappointment impossible to miss.
“There are so many people. Maybe he’s <b>just </b>lost in the crowd,” Cole offered gently. The parent section was organized by ss, but seats weren’t assigned.
“But I saw Mr. Whitley and Ms. June.” Alessia’s pout was pronounced enough to hang a bucket from.
Her preschool never hosted sports days–too risky, since little kids might get hurt and the school didn’t want the liability.
So this was Alessia’s very first sports meet. She hadn’t said much, but she’d been quietly looking forward to it.
She’d called her parents, but they were away on business and couldn’t make it. They said they’d send Butler Dawson in their ce, but she didn’t want Butler Dawso
She wanted Max.
Cole led her away, but Alessia kept ncing back, unwilling to give up hope. She wanted–needed–to check one more, time.
Seeing this, Cole simply stopped walking. The two of them stood hand–in–hand, scanning the faces in the parent section again and again, searching for the one person she desperately hoped to see. Even when the teacher finally led them away, Alessia hadn’t spotted him.
Not at the opening ceremony, not in the middle, not at the end–Max never showed <ol><li>up. </li></ol>
When Alessia got home and found Max was there, a flood of hurt and frustration welled up inside her. Ignoring Mae’s attempts to stop her, Alessia ran straight to Max’s door and began pounding on it with both fists.
“Max, open the door!”