Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Max’s Point of View

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, a familiar sting I’d grown used to over the years. Tonight, though, it didn’t bring the solace I was searching for. It never did anymore. The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of murmured conversations and clinking glasses blending into a monotonous white noise around me. I leaned back in my booth, letting the leather cushion press against my shoulders, but I couldn’t relax.

My head was pounding not from the alcohol, but from the mess Samuel had dragged me into.

Three months. That’s all the board had given me to clean up this disaster. To prove I could hold the reins of a company I had bled for. Three months to push back against the man who, for all his calm arrogance, had just thrown my world into chaos.

I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaling heavily. The shadows of the bar couldn’t hide the fury bubbling under my skin. Samuel Graves. My uncle. The name itself churned my stomach.

When he waltzed back into the boardroom this morning, his polished grin and patronizing tone had been almost unbearable. The board, too easily swayed by his theatrics, had dared to question my leadership. After everything I’d done every sleepless night, every calculated risk they had looked me in the eye and given me an ultimatum.

I slammed my glass down onto the table harder than I intended, the noise drawing a brief glance from the bartender before he returned to polishing glasses.

“Another?” he asked as he moved closer, his tone neutral.

I nodded, pushing the empty glass toward him without a word.

The truth was, I couldn’t blame the board entirely. Samuel return wasn’t just a strategic move it was personal. He wasn’t content with leaving me to lead the family empire in peace. No, he wanted to dismantle me brick by brick, to prove that I wasn’t worthy of the throne he’d abandoned.

I gritted my teeth as the bartender poured another round, the amber liquid swirling in the glass.

“Long day?” the bartender asked casually, breaking the silence.

I looked up at him, his face lined with the kind of weary understanding that came from years of hearing other people’s problems.

“You could say that,” I muttered, taking the glass.

“Work?” he pressed.

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “What else?”

The bartender shrugged. “Happens to the best of us. Whatever it is, don’t let it eat you alive. Nothing’s worth that.”

He walked away before I could respond, leaving me to stew in my thoughts. Don’t let it eat me alive? Easy advice to give, but nearly impossible to follow. How could I not let it consume me when everything I’d worked for was at stake?

And then there was Eva.

Her name flickered in my mind like a stubborn candle, refusing to be snuffed out. I shouldn’t have been thinking about her, not tonight. Not when the weight of the company was already dragging me down. But she was there, as vivid in my thoughts as if she were sitting across from me.

I closed my eyes briefly, gripping the glass tightly. Eva. The woman I’d married because of my grandfather’s will. The woman I had pushed away, dismissed, and hurt in ways I wasn’t proud of.

I could still see the pain in her eyes from the last time we argued in court, the way she looked at me as if trying to find the man she’d once hoped I could be. That look haunted me more than I cared to admit.

I downed another sip of whiskey, the fire of it a poor substitute for the fire burning in my chest. Samuel had upended my professional life, and now Eva’s shadow threatened to do the same to my personal one.

The laugh startled me.

I turned my head instinctively, drawn by the sound a laugh so light and carefree that it felt out of place in this dingy bar. My gaze landed on the far corner, where a small group sat around a table, their conversation lively.

And there she was.

Eva.

She sat at the edge of the group, her head tilted back as laughter spilled from her lips. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Something inside me twisted painfully. She looked... happy.

Sitting beside her was a man I didn’t recognize young, polished, with a grin that seemed to match her mood perfectly. He leaned closer, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh again, and I felt my chest tighten.

I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. The scene before me was a cruel contradiction to the storm inside me. While I was drowning in my own misery, she was here, laughing, smiling, living.

The man reached out, his hand brushing against hers as he made another comment. She didn’t pull away.

My fingers curled around the glass, the anger rising unbidden. I didn’t know this man, didn’t know his intentions, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at her. And I didn’t like how easy it was for her to smile at him, as if she’d already forgotten about our marriage, the tension that had defined our relationship.

For a moment, I thought about approaching them. About walking over and making my presence known. But what would that accomplish? Eva didn’t owe me anything, least of all an explanation. If she wanted to sit here and laugh with some stranger, who was I to stop her?

And yet, the thought of her slipping further away from me was unbearable.

I stayed rooted to my seat, my gaze fixed on her as if by sheer willpower I could turn her attention to me. But she didn’t look my way. She didn’t even seem to notice I was there.

And for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, that hurt more than I thought it would.