Chapter 42
Annalise
I grimace at my phone when Max’s number pops up on the screen.
“Hey,” I answer, before immediately launching into my explanation of where I went and why. I went into a small panic when I saw that my work phone and tablet weren’t in my room.
What if someone gets into the proprietary information I have on my devices?
What if they get broken?
What if Bree calls again and I can’t answer her question because I don’t have my files?
All of the what-ifs started to spiral, and while I could’ve brushed them off as best as possible by reminding myself that I could just retrieve my belongings tomorrow, it didn’t sit right with me. Besides, the hotel where we’re staying is really close to the track. No more than a five-minute drive.
I want to tell Max all of this, so he understands my line of thinking, but as I enter the Amato pit area, a light in the garage space catches my attention.
I’ve already explained to the nighttime security guard who I am, flashed my security tag at him, and told him what I needed to get. He waved me in with no problem.
Now, though, the light on in the garage piques my curiosity.
Unable to look away, I head toward the light, thinking maybe I’ll find Drake Horner or a few engineers going over some final details for tomorrow’s race.
I stop short when I see someone completely unexpected hovering over the cockpit of Severino Ferreira’s old Formula 1 car. The same car Max is scheduled to drive tomorrow.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, startling the woman so much that she stumbles back away from the car a few inches. The flashlight in her hand comes up, temporarily blinding me.
Before I can ask Max’s mother what the hell she is doing, a presence moves behind me, snatching the phone out of my hand.
I spin in time to watch Edwin throwing my phone to the ground and then stomping on it.
Outraged, my first instinct is to lunge at him, but he holds up his right hand that wields a knife. A very sharp, long-bladed knife.
“What the hell is this?” I ask, looking between Edwin and Max’s mother.
Mrs. Severino’s ice blue eyes glitter with malice. “You shouldn’t be here,” she hisses, as if that answers my question.
“Neither should you.” I peer over my shoulder, not trusting Edwin with that knife while he’s still behind me.
I take a step to the side and back so that he’s no longer behind me but to my side.
From this angle, I can see both of them without having to turn my head back and forth.
One look over Mrs. Severino’s shoulder and I see there’s some sort of wire hanging over the side of the car Max is supposed to drive tomorrow.
“Were you messing with Max’s car?”
A disgusting, wretched laugh that only some sort of wicked witch in a Disney movie could make spills out of her mouth.
“Max’s car?” She says his name in such a berating manner. “Max wishes he could handle this car! Do you know my Severino won a championship in this car? He is the only one worthy of sitting in it. Not Max.”
I blink in horror, taken aback by the forcefulness in her voice.
“He’s your son.”
“Ha!” she scoffs. “I never wanted him. I never wanted kids.” She waves her hands around wildly as she says this. That’s when I notice not only does she hold a flashlight but also a pair of scissors in her other hand.
My stomach rebels as a wave of nausea rolls through my body at what her possible intentions could be.
“Severino wanted a son. So fine,” she spits out, “I had the brat for him. But that wasn’t enough. He had the nerve to come to me when Max was five and say we should give him a sibling. A brother or sister.”
She shakes her head, vehemently.
“I was not about to ruin my body again for another kid. He never knew about the pills I took every day to keep from getting pregnant. I knew Severino.
“He loved racing more than anything. He would’ve given up the idea of another kid eventually. But then he died.”
It’s the last sentence that has her sounding even the slightest bit remorseful.
“He left me to raise that boy alone.”
I tighten my fists at my sides, briefly glancing over at Edwin who continues to hold the knife out in my direction. But his shifty gaze moves between me and Max’s mother, as if looking for direction.
“What about you? You’re supposed to be Max’s friend,” I remind him.
He shakes his head. “He’s thinking of firing me. Did you know that, bitch? I can feel it. He wants to get rid of me for Harry,” he states, spitting out his former friend’s name.
Max told me that Edwin and Harry didn’t get along even before Harry’s accident. Edwin stayed away when Harry was in Monte-Carlo a few weeks ago.
“He says I’m not getting him enough opportunities. He’s the one who quit going to all of the parties I worked to get him into. Where’s the thanks for that?”
“He doesn’t deserve you either,” Mrs. Severino says.
I look back at her and then at Edwin. The look they share says it all. There’s been something going on between them, and together they’ve used whatever sick bond they have to embolden their grudge against Max.
A scoff falls from my lips.
“Max is better off without the both of you. He’s earned everything he’s ever gotten.”
“Pssh!”
I look over at his mother.
“Max earned nothing!” she seethes. “He’s lived off of Severino’s name for years.”
“He’s lived off of his hard work,” I correct through gritted teeth.
It’s not until Edwin lunges closer, threatening me with the knife that I’ve realized I moved toward Max’s mother, silently conveying a threat of my own. I don’t like the way she’s talking about Max—my Max.
“Be careful of this one, Edwin,” she says, glaring at me with an evil smirk on her face. “She likes to slap.”
“Still feeling the sting of that one, huh?” I taunt.
Hate drips from every facet of her stare. “Bitch. Maybe I should have Edwin cut you before I finish cutting whatever wire I can in that car.”
She thrusts the scissors over her shoulder at Severino’s car.
A mocking laugh rents the air. It comes from me.
“You’re really a dumbass if you think a pair of scissors and the snip of a wire or two is enough to stop the car from running. What exactly was your plan? To fuck up the car so that Max drives off of the track into a wall?”
I pause, rolling my shoulders back because another wave of anger passes through me at the thought of someone intentionally hurting him.
“Do you know anything about the cars you’ve spent the better part of your life around at all? It’ll take more than those scissors to sabotage anything.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Fuck you!” she screams, obviously insulted just like I intended. “I’m not about to allow Max to destroy my husband’s reputation by getting in that car tomorrow. Besides, he owes me after what he did to me!”
The confusion must show on my face because she answers without my asking.
“I raised him after Severino died.” She beats her chest with the hand that holds the flashlight. “I took care of him and sent him to school and took him to practice. Then he has the nerve to cut me off? Cancel my credit cards? Stop paying for my home?”
Now she’s getting to where her real resentment stems from.
From what he’s told me, I know Max hasn’t completely cut his mother off, either.
He just removed her name from all but one of his bank accounts and all credit cards.
While he continues to take care of the mortgage on one of the apartments that’s in both of their names, he refuses to pay the extravagant rent on the multiple rentals that she’s taken out in different European countries or pay for her luxurious trips around the world.
He’s still paying for her life, but apparently, it’s too scaled down for what she believes she deserves.
“You bitch! You think you can judge me?” she yells when I bring this up. “He owes me. I carried him for nine months, raised him, gave him—”
“Years of emotional abuse even after he witnessed what no child should ever have to see? The death of his father. You mean you did the bare minimum as a parent and then tried to cripple him with guilt and degradation by constantly telling him he wasn’t good enough? That’s what he owes you for?”
I move toward her, itching to put my hands around her throat, when Edwin intercedes, holding the knife almost to my throat.
“Don’t move,” he says.
“Take that knife away from her or I will break you,” Max’s voice thunders through the garage.
I don’t waste time as soon as I hear his voice. I brush Edwin’s arm away and lunge at Max’s mother, surprising her. I knock the scissors out of her hand before palm-striking her in the nose, sending her head back and loosening her muscles so that the flashlight plummets to the ground.
She’s instantly bent over, holding her bloodied nose in both of her hands.
There are voices, loud noises, and chaos behind me, but I don’t take my eyes off of his mother. I don’t trust this witch.
While she’s injured, she’s still a vengeful, unscrupulous bitch who won’t hesitate to grab whatever’s near to try to hit me. A woman who berates, denigrates, and even tries to cause an accident to her own son is not someone to turn my back on.
And just as I thought, it doesn’t take long before she’s lurching at me. Seeking to lash out in retribution for her bloodied nose.
But I was taught self-defense from the time I was a little girl. My uncle taught me how to throw a punch when I was just three. He’d had me perfect it by the time I was seven.
Max’s mother doesn’t stand a chance. Especially not when all of the terrible things she said about him course through my mind.
Those words couple with the look I saw in his eyes months ago, when I walked in on his mother speaking to him like he was a stranger on the street.
The empty, detached look he must’ve perfected over the years in order to shield himself from the words she used as daggers to spear his spirit in an attempt to break him.
Her cries for me to let go of her that fade into cries of fear that I’ll kill her don’t stop me.
It’s not until strong arms bracket me from behind. I don’t see who it is that’s holding me, but my body knows the touch. It’s familiar, a signal to my body and unconscious mind that I’m safe.
Slowly, I release the hold I have on her hair. The moment I do, her body slumps to the floor, still conscious but definitely worn out and unable to take much more. I fight off the urge to finish what I started, but instead I turn to the person holding me.
“Travis,” I heave, and then all of the air is forced out of my lungs when he pulls me tight into his chest.
“You’re safe,” he says.
But my heart still races. Max is here. I heard his voice.
Where is he?
I hope he didn’t hear any of that horrible shit his mother said about him.
My eyes fall to a trickle of blood that starts where Edwin once stood. I follow it to a body laying on the ground.
In my periphery, I hear alarms and see the flashing of what I presume are police vehicles, but I laser in on the blood and the person on the ground.
I push out of Travis’ hold and move toward the body.
“Max?”
“I’m here.” I glance over to Max, standing behind a prone Edwin, who is also still conscious but barely.
“Max.” I stop short, my eyes roaming over his body when my heartbeat quickens. “You’re bleeding,” I blurt out before the sirens get louder and the entire world, it feels like, descends upon us.