Chapter Nineteen

Max

One day later, Ponte Verda Boulevard, Ponte Verda Beach, Florida…

The parked SUV rental stood sentinel across the street from the imposing two-story house. Nestled among swaying palm trees, the luxurious and modern residence stood in stark contrast to the quiet serenity of the neighborhood. The graphite gray exterior seemed to absorb the midday sun, casting an almost ominous shadow across the manicured lawn.

"It's not going to magically disappear," Max grunted irritably at himself. He had been staring through the wrought-iron gate at the home for almost an hour, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. The sound of the ocean in the background, which was usually a soothing melody to him, only served to heighten his inner turmoil.

"Why the fuck am I here? This isn't going to change anything." Gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turned white from the pressure. He couldn't bring himself to turn on the car and guide it up the driveway. The guard at the gate had been watching him carefully, no doubt wondering about the strange man who had been sitting motionless in his vehicle for so long.

"In fact, it'll probably bring back memories I fucking banned to hell long ago."

Eyes glowing with a mixture of pain and anger, Max took another sweep over the house. The architect had shown a deep respect for the natural environment in his design. Though it was modern to every small detail, the house was built around the trees, as though he wanted to protect them, shield them from the abuse of human nature. The irony was not lost on Max, considering the person who resided within those walls.

If only humans could do the same with their hearts and souls, then life would be a song. Max's jaw clenched as he thought about the man who had fucked up his life. Matthew DuPont, the source of his deepest scars and the object of his most intense hatred.

"Fuck," he growled as memories of the abuse he had suffered at his father's hands threatened to overwhelm him, memories he had refused to think about for over thirty years came rushing to the surface. Closing his eyes tightly, he forced them back into the recesses of his mind. He had overcome those times. "I'm not going back into that fuck hole of darkness ever again." Not now that he had experienced the light with Wick in his life.

Max's breathing became shallow as he struggled to control the torment that burned within him. His entire body was tense, ready to explode with suppressed rage. The hatred he felt for Matthew surpassed anything he had ever experienced, even more than the loathing he harbored for the person he had come to confront today. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the house once more.

"Well, I can't sit here forever," he muttered. Slowly, he reached for the ignition. "Get a grip, DuPont," he grumbled as he noticed his hand trembling slightly when he turned the key.

"No matter what, it's time to face this demon. Maybe then I'll be able to forever put those years where they belong… in the past."

The short pep talk worked as adrenaline flooded his veins, giving him the boost he needed. With eyes glowing, he drove up to the guard at the gate, lowering the window.

"Max DuPont," he stated his name in a steady voice despite the turmoil within.

"Of course, sir." The guard's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're expected." Without hesitation, he pressed a button, and the wrought-iron gate slowly swung open.

Max guided the SUV up the driveway, his eyes sweeping the immaculate landscaping that surrounded the imposing house. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the path, their geometric shapes a testament to the meticulous care they received. A large fountain adorned the center of the circular drive, its cascading water creating a soothing ambiance that stood in stark contrast to Max's inner state.

"Imagine that. Living in such luxury while I spent the majority of my teenage years locked in a fucking dungeon when not at school." His voice cracked as it darkened ominously.

With his jaw clenched, Max parked the car and stepped out. The steely resolve was presented in his squared shoulders and stoic expression. The man who strode purposefully toward the front door was far from the neglected and abused young boy who had cried for his mother to come and save him. His footsteps echoed against the smooth driveway. The closer he got to the house, the more his expression darkened, with his brows furrowing and his lips pressing into a thin line.

Ascending the marble stairs, Max's eyes fixed on the ornate glass and steel door that loomed before him. With each step, the weight of his past seemed to bear down on him, threatening to crush his determination. Yet he persevered, his hand steady as he reached out and pressed the doorbell.

As the chime echoed through the house, his expression hardened as his features settled into a sinister mask. His eyes, once filled with pain and anger, now glinted with a cold, calculated fury. He stood tall, his resolve and posture unyielding, ready to confront the demons that had haunted him for far too long.

Max braced himself as the door opened.

A gray-haired woman appeared, regal and graceful, but the dull skin and deep wrinkles indicated she had weathered a hard life.

"I'm looking for Serena Williams." The look of relief and adoration in her eyes confused him. Since he didn't recognize her, he couldn't help but wonder if he had mistaken the caller.

"Who the fuck is at the door? I told you not to invite anyone. Why don't you ever listen?" A dark voice floated from down the hallway. Fear sparked to life on her face.

"M-Max? Is it really you?" The soft, husky, and flowery voice triggered a memory so deeply buried, at first, he refused to let it loose. It was impossible. This woman couldn't be her. Serena Williams was a beautiful woman, and this one didn't look anything like he remembered. "Oh, thank God you came."

Max breathed in deeply, his jaw clenched tightly as he fought against the rising tide of anger and pain. His eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed, creating a formidable expression that made the woman take a hesitant step back. When she reached out to touch his face, Max recoiled instinctively, his body language screaming his rejection and distrust.

"You hate me," she whispered, her voice trembling with tears.

Max's face remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. The years of anguish, the countless nights he had spent crying himself to sleep, wondering why his mother had abandoned him—all of it came rushing back, threatening to overwhelm him.

"My son, my beautiful boy, I am so sorry, so very sorry for what I did to you." Fearfully, she glanced over her shoulder as a door slammed behind her. "I had no choice at the time. You have to believe me." She grabbed his hand and implored him urgently, "You have to help us, Max. If we don't get out of here, he's going to kill us."

Max was unmoved as he shook off her hand, his eyes flashing with a cold fury that made her gasp. He couldn't bring himself to forgive her, no matter how desperate her pleas sounded. The scars were too deep, even after all these years.

"Like he almost did to me, you mean? Or did you conveniently forget you left me, a six-year-old defenseless little boy, with him? You deserted me."

She gasped at the hatred he knew he couldn't hide from his gaze.

"I deserve your hatred," she said sadly, "but your sister doesn't." Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Max's heart twisted in his chest, but he refused to let his resolve waver. He had come here seeking answers, hoping for closure, but instead, he found himself confronted with a past he had never truly escaped.

"My sister is forty-five years old. I'm sure she has her own family and life to lead."

"Max, please. You don't understand. She… we—"

"No. You don't understand. I owe you nothing. I thought I was here because you…" Max swallowed the words before he made a complete fool of himself. "I'm leaving."

"You're not going anywhere."

Max turned to stone at the dark growl as a man stepped into the light. His black hair shone in the sunlight. Although tanned and tall, he was as thin as a rake. One thing stood out clearly. The face was unfamiliar, but the presence—that sinister, ugly, and twisted devil swirling beneath the surface—was unmistakable. As Max looked into the man's eyes, a chill ran down his spine as his breath threatened to strangle him. The one man he had walked away from and never wanted to see again—Matthew DuPont, his father—under the guise of another face.

"So, you've become a coward." Max's voice was low and deadly. His eyes glowed with a glacial fury. "Hiding behind a mask. Who are you running from, asshole?"

"I'm your father." Matthew's lips curled into a sneer.

Max scoffed as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You don't know the meaning of the word, you fucking bastard."

"You will not talk to me like that." Matthew's eyes flashed with a wild, evil glint, just as Max remembered from his childhood.

"Or what? You'll beat me? Go ahead. I'd love to see you try."

"You useless son of a bitch." He took a threatening step closer. Max didn't flinch or move, his stance unwavering. He met his father's gaze head-on with his own eyes burning in fierce determination. It stayed Matthew's movement. He seemed uncertain all of a sudden, as if he didn't know how to handle the grown-up version of the boy he had tormented years ago. His hesitation was brief, however, and he quickly resorted to a verbal attack.

"It's because of you and Colonel Camden Brett that I have become this." He swiped a hand over his face. "He destroyed my military career because of you. I couldn't show my face anywhere. Everyone shunned me. A mask? No, my dear boy. Because of all the stories he told, the lies you told him, I was forced to have my face changed."

"Lies? Truly? That's what you want to go with?" Max's hands balled into fists. The desire to bash the man's face into a pulp grew exponentially within him. He suppressed it with difficulty. Patience was a virtue. It was the one thing life with Matthew had taught him. He still didn't know why he was there or what this despicable man wanted from him.

"You and that bastard will pay," he sneered.

Max's jaw clenched tightly, his entire body trembling with barely contained anger. The mention of Colonel Brett, the man who had been his savior and mentor, only fueled his rage. He took a step forward with his eyes locked on his father's face.

"You brought this upon yourself," he said, his voice low and steady. "You abused me, tortured me, and made my life a living hell. Colonel Brett saw the truth, and he did what was right. You deserved everything that happened to you."

"It's because of you that I was forced to live in hiding for years," Matthew continued to teem. A smile of pure evil curved his lips. "But no more. Now, I have power."

"Is that why you're here? Using defenseless women to lure me." Max's face distorted into a mask of disgust. "Yeah, I shiver in the face of your power."

As Max spoke, his mother watched from the sidelines, her face a mixture of fear and desperation. She wrung her hands together, her eyes darting between her son and her husband.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't do this. Not here, not now. He… he has Chloe."

He clenched his jaw, refusing to let their words sway him. "And that should concern me why?" he asked in a cold and unforgiving way. The years of pain, desolation, and hopelessness they had inflicted upon him during his childhood had left deep, indelible scars.

Matthew's sneer only fueled Max's anger.

"Come now, Max," he taunted, his eyes glinting with malice. "She's your twin. Surely, you could feel something was wrong with her?"

A mirthless laugh escaped Max's lips as his eyes fixed on his father's face.

"You're what? Sixty-six years old, and you believe shit like that happens? You forget we were not mirror twins. The day you decided to break up the family was the day you severed all bonds I had with Chloe." He turned, his footsteps echoing on the stairs as he walked away, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "You wasted my time. I don't owe any of you shit. She's your daughter. If she's in trouble, sort it out yourself."

"She asked for you, Max." Serena's desperate cries chased after him, her voice cracking with emotion. "Chloe begged me to find you to help her."

Max's steps never faltered, his resolve unwavering. He had endured too much, suffered too greatly to be manipulated once more.

His mother had walked away from him when he was just six years old, taking his twin sister and leaving him to face the torment of his father's abuse alone. It was a hell he had survived through sheer will and determination, and he refused to be yanked back into the devil's den.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Max turned. His gaze swept over the two figures standing at the front door. Matthew glowered at him, his face contorted with vicious animosity, while Serena's tears streamed down her cheeks.

Neither sight moved him, for now his heart was encased in a fortress of ice.

"Don't call me again," he said, his voice as hard as steel. "I don't owe any of you shit. You are nothing to me."

"We're family, Max!" Serena's passionate cry rang out, her hands reaching toward him in a desperate plea.

"I don't have a family." Laughing, Max shook his head, his eyes devoid of emotion. "I never have."

With those final words echoing in the heat of the midday sun, Max strode toward the rental car, his steps purposeful and unyielding.

"You'll be back, Max. Mark my words!" Ignoring Matthew's furious yell, he slid into the driver's seat. For moments, he sat gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Fuck him. Fuck them all. I owe them nothing." The engine roared to life as he turned the key. The screeching of tires as he pulled away from the house was indicative of his decision to leave behind the ghosts of his past and the family that had never truly been his own.

Stefan Jurgen

Ponte Verda Boulevard, Ponte Verda Beach, Florida…

"It seems you misjudged the power you have over your son, Matthew DuPont. Fucking asshole," Jurgen muttered as he watched the black SUV take the corner at a neck-breaking speed. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Having Max DuPont at my beck and call would've been the perfect ploy to get the upper hand over Giovanni Lombardo." Azure eyes glimmered angrily as he started the black FBI sedan and pulled away from the curb. "What am I saying? Not would've; he is the best weapon, and he fucking will play ball. I just have to find the one thing that will bend him to my command."

With a grim expression, he made a call on his cell phone. He started talking angrily as soon as it was answered.

"Matthew DuPont is worthless, and we've wasted unnecessary resources and money on him. Make him disappear, but keep an eye on Serena and Chloe DuPont. They might still be valuable."

"Do you want it to look like a suicide?" Special Agent Victor Pole's voice droned in his ear.

"Don't be a fucking idiot. You know what I'm after. Make his death point to the Genolere Mafia. I need an arrest from that group. It's the only way we'll get a foot in the door."

"Will do. I suppose that means Max DuPont isn't part of the plan?"

"No, he fucking isn't."

"I might have something that could be used to our advantage."

"Spit it out, Pole." Stefan was a very ambitious man. He didn't think twice to take credit for successful missions that others achieved, nor did he care how many good people he trampled on to achieve his goal. It was how he became deputy director of the organized and white-collar crime division. He needed a big win to get the director's chair. Bagging a front boss of the Genolere Mafia leader would secure his future… at the FBI and as an associate of Giovanni Lombardo.

"You might not like it," Agent Pole hedged.

"Stop wasting my time." Downshifting, he sped up a hill, anger at believing Matthew DuPont could offer the solution he was after sparked anew.

"Max DuPont had a meeting at his CyberCo Airline Head Office a week or so ago." Agent Pole hesitated momentarily before continuing dramatically, "With none other than Ms. Wicked Bitch."

"You're fucking kidding me." Stefan straightened and eased his foot off the gas, allowing the sedan to slow down to a crawl.

"I shit you not. She was there for over an hour. It seems your little firecracker NYPD investigator has moved on. She's on a plane heading to Key Largo as we speak."

"Didn't our intel on DuPont include owning property somewhere in Key Largo?" Stefan's eyes narrowed as he parked the sedan on the curb.

"Yes, but since the deed is closed, we can't pinpoint the location."

"You know where Wick is heading. You know which plane she's on. Use the fucking NASA satellites and every available CCTV camera on the island to keep track of her. I want to know her exact location once she arrives wherever she's heading."

"On it, Boss."

Stefan cut the connection with a wide grin on his face.

"I've got you, DuPont. You will become my golden boy. With your Delta Force skills, you'll make me untouchable, especially once the Genolere Mafia accepts me as an ally. Maybe I'll even let you handle a potential problem for me—Bradley Gray." He cackled a laugh.

"How lucky I was to run into Matthew DuPont, right? I can hardly believe my luck. A father so eager to destroy his own child. Well, what the fuck ever his reasons are, I'm the one benefiting from knowing exactly who and what the debonair billionaire, Max DuPont, truly is. And I am going to use the fuck out of that knowledge." Putting the car in gear, he drove off.

"Imagine that, my little bitch bagged herself a fucking billionaire. You did well, darling. I might even have to reward you for handing Max DuPont to me on a platter."