Protecting Maxx

Prologue Sebastian

prologue: sebastian

I wasn’t lurking in the hallway; I promise. The weed I smoked earlier had given me the munchies, so I was headed to the kitchen. That’s when I heard the private line in my dad’s office ring.

“Ciara, what the hell do you want now?” Dad’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the house.

I froze mid-step, curiosity prickling at the edges of my mind. He got up and closed the office door, but it didn’t click shut all the way. I inched closer, careful not to make a sound. I don’t think my father realized I was here, so he had her on speakerphone.

“Ciara, what have you done?!” the sound of him slamming his fist against the desk made my stomach drop.

“How can the brakes fail like that?!”

Brakes? My heart started to race.

“You were supposed to make it look like an accident, not... not send his damn car off a cliff!”

A cold chill ran down my spine.

“Do you realize the kind of attention this will bring?” His voice was quieter now, but his fury was unmistakable.

There was a long pause. I could hear Ciara, and she sounded so angry, the tone of her voice aggressive. “I did what we talked about, what we planned.”

“Fine,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “I’ll make the calls. We’ll need witnesses to swear it was a freak accident. But, damn it, Ciara, you’ve made this mess harder to clean up.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

“Don’t call me again,” he muttered. “Use the burner phone like I told you and stay out of sight. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

The phone slammed down, and I stumbled back toward the kitchen, my head spinning.

I grabbed bread and cold cuts, trying to act normal, though my mind was a chaotic swirl of disbelief. Did I just overhear a plot to kill Carlos?

And if they killed him... what happened to Maxine?

Maxine’s face flickered in my mind; she’d be heartbroken, and I couldn’t go to her. I remembered how close she and her dad were. He called her his pequena princesa . My stomach churned at the thought that my father, my family , might have had a hand in destroying hers. Maxine has had my heart on lock since we were teenagers. She used to spend the summers here with Brooklyn, and I always watched her from afar. I noticed her watching me too. My heart already hurt for her.

Brooklyn barged into the kitchen with her usual whirlwind of energy. “Hey bro, thanks for the sandwich!” She snagged the plate from my hands before I could protest.

“Make your own!” I grumbled, starting over.

She paused mid-bite, eyeing me. “What’s your deal? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If she only knew. But I couldn’t risk telling her—not since Maxine was her best friend. Not yet anyway. Brooklyn was not one for keeping secrets, especially from Maxine. I swear they told each other everything and then some.

Dad stayed locked in his office all evening, the sound of his whiskey decanter punctuating the silence. He only drank when something big was happening—or when he was scheming.

Brooklyn and I played Mario Kart to distract ourselves. She actually beat me once, but it was a fluke.

When Maria, our housekeeper and chef, called us for dinner, there were only three place settings. Maria has worked for my family since I was little taking care of the house and cooking our meals. Me and Brooklyn have probably spent more time with her than our father.

“Master David is busy with work and doesn’t wish to be disturbed,” Maria said with a sigh.

Brooklyn and I exchanged a look but didn’t press. That wasn’t unusual.

Later, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t shake the conversation I’d overheard. My father’s voice echoed in my mind. “You were supposed to make it look like an accident...”

Maxine deserved to know the truth, didn’t she? But how could I even begin to tell her? Knowing her dad’s death wasn’t just a tragic accident would destroy her.

I knew he and Carlos butted heads over the company. Dad had been desperate to buy out Carlos’s shares, but Carlos refused to budge. Now, it was all starting to make sense—the tense phone calls, the late-night meetings, the hushed arguments.

When I woke up the next morning, the house was quiet. Maria had saved me breakfast, as usual, despite the rules.

“Thank you, Maria,” I said, trying to muster a smile.

“You’re welcome, mijo ,” she replied, her warmth a small comfort in the chaos swirling in my mind.

But as I sat there eating, one thought kept gnawing at me: If Carlos’s car went over that cliff, how did they make it look like an accident, and how would I face Maxine knowing what I now know?