Chapter 111

MR JACOB POV.

The door creaked shut behind Max as he walked away, leaving me standing at the restroom entrance, completely stunned.

My mind raced as I stared at the spot where he had just been. How could he possibly be fine? I had heard him coughing violently from inside. I had seen the blood…there was no mistaking it.

I looked down at the faint red smear on the floor near the threshold of the restroom. That was real. I wasn’t imagining things.

The blood was fresh, unmistakable evidence that something had happened to him there. So how was he walking away, calm and composed, with that infuriating smirk on his face?

“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered under my breath. I stepped into the restroom, my eyes scanning every corner.

The sink was still wet, droplets of water clinging to its surface. The mirror above it was fogged slightly, likely from Max leaning in close as he tried to clean himself up.

As I moved further in, my eyes landed on something on the edge of the counter. A tiny bottle, no larger than a vial, with traces of a dark liquid inside.

My breath hitched as I picked it up carefully, holding it between my fingers. The glass felt cold, almost sinister.

“What is this?” I whispered to myself, bringing it closer to my nose. The smell was sharp and chemical, something I couldn’t immediately place but was undeniably strange.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the bottle as my thoughts spiraled. Was this the reason Max was still alive? Did he have some kind of antidote?

That would explain how he managed to recover so quickly, but how did he even have it? Had he planned for this? Was he always one step ahead of me?

I wrapped the bottle in a tissue, tucking it carefully into my pocket. Whatever this was, I needed to figure it out. Max was playing a dangerous game, and I was determined to uncover his secrets.

As I walked back to the living room, my mind was a storm of questions. How had he known to prepare an antidote? Was he working alone, or did someone else help him prepare the antidote?

My thoughts drifted briefly to Nadia, who had excused herself earlier. Could she be involved by helping Max? Though I know that they are working hand to hand.

When I reached the living room, I saw Max sitting casually on the couch, chatting with Kenneth and the others as if nothing had happened. The sight of him made my blood boil. He was so smug, so self-assured, and it infuriated me.

Like this mother fucker called Max knows

I took my seat across from him, my eyes never leaving his face. I couldn’t help it; I was fixated on him. Every gesture, every word he spoke, I analyzed, searching for cracks in his facade. But he was calm, too calm.

My staring must have been obvious because Kenneth glanced at me with a raised brow. “Jacob, is everything all right?” he asked.

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yes, just lost in thought,” I replied, my gaze briefly shifting to Kenneth before returning to Max.

Max noticed my stare, of course. He always noticed. He met my eyes and gave me a small, knowing smile. It was as if he was daring me to say something, to confront him in front of everyone. But I held my tongue. This wasn’t the time or place.

Just then, Richard cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well,” he began, standing up, “it’s been a long evening, and I think it’s time for us to head out.”

He gestured to the woman he had brought with him, the one with bandages covering her arms. Alisha, if I remembered correctly. She stood up slowly, leaning slightly on Richard for support.

“Thank you for having us,” Richard said, addressing Kenneth and his wife. “We’ll be in touch about the arrangements.”

Kenneth nodded warmly. “Of course. Take care of her, Richard. She’s lucky to have someone as attentive as you.”

Richard gave a polite smile, but I could see the tension in his posture. As he and Alisha made their way to the door, I couldn’t help but wonder about their story. Who was she to him, and why did she look so fragile?

My attention, however, quickly shifted back to Max. Even as Richard and Alisha left, I couldn’t stop watching him. The way he sat there, so composed, so untouchable, made my skin crawl.

I clenched my fists, the tiny bottle in my pocket pressing against my palm. Whatever game Max was playing, I was determined to uncover it. He might have won this round, but I wasn’t done yet.

I sat there, my thoughts racing as Richard and Alisha disappeared through the front door.

The room settled into a strange silence, punctuated only by the faint ticking of a clock on the wall. My eyes flicked back to Max, who remained seated, completely at ease.

He leaned back into the couch, one arm draped over the side, as though he were the king of this room. It was infuriating.

My fingers twitched against the bottle still hidden in my pocket. What was it? An antidote? A clever ploy to save himself from the poison he had willingly ingested?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Max had taken control of the situation, spun it in his favor, and now sat there as if he hadn’t been moments away from death.

He caught me staring again. This time, he tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening.

That smug grin was a slap to my face, a reminder that he believed he was always one step ahead of me. I had to resist the urge to stand up and confront him right there.

Instead, I looked away, pretending to focus on the patterned rug beneath my feet. But my thoughts were anything but calm.

How did he do it? I asked myself. How did he recover so quickly? Was it really the bottle I found, or is there something else I’m missing?