My Darling Ex-Wife Is Unaware I’m Rich

Chapter 14: Blood &Betrayal

Maxwell leaned against the hospital bed, the weight of Marcus’s words pressing down on him like a vice. His pulse raced, his mind spinning as decades of lies unraveled before him.

“Your father,” Marcus began, his tone steady, “was the second-in-command of the Silver Crescent Clan, a family revered for its strength and influence. But his stepbrother, Alphonse, resented him. Alphonse was failing as clan leader—his reign marred by poor decisions and rebellion among the ranks. When certain members conspired to overthrow him, Alphonse pinned the blame on your father, Archer.”

Maxwell’s fists clenched as he leaned forward. “So they turned the brothers against each other?”

Marcus nodded solemnly. “The accusations created a rift that couldn’t be mended. Alphonse, blinded by paranoia and rage, believed the lies. He feared your father’s influence and sought to eliminate him... and his family.”

The room seemed to close in around Maxwell as Marcus continued. “Alphonse hired assassins to wipe out your father, your mother, and you. On that fateful night, the assassins struck. They killed your mother, Martha, before your father could stop them.”

Maxwell’s heart ached as he imagined the face of a woman he barely remembered. “And my father? What happened to him?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. “Your father, driven by grief and rage, hunted down the men who murdered your mother. His vengeance left chaos in its wake. But Alphonse anticipated his retaliation and laid a trap. Archer walked right into it.”

Maxwell’s voice was barely above a whisper. “So he died... seeking revenge?”

“Yes.” Marcus’s voice softened. “But before he did, he made arrangements to protect you. He entrusted you to William Carter, his gardener and trusted friend, knowing he would keep you safe. William promised to raise you as his own, to shield you from the clan’s reach.”

Maxwell stared blankly at the wall, his mind reeling. “That’s why I grew up thinking William was my father.”

Marcus nodded. “It was the only way to ensure your survival. Your name, your life—everything was changed to keep you hidden from Alphonse and the clan.”

Silence filled the room as Maxwell struggled to process the truth. The life he had known was nothing but a façade.

“What about Alphonse?” he asked finally, his voice edged with bitterness. “Did he get what he wanted?”

Marcus’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “In a way. Alphonse, unable to have children, adopted a boy named Lenox. To secure his position, he lied to the clan, claiming Lenox was Archer’s illegitimate son and the rightful heir to the Quentin legacy.”

Maxwell’s chest tightened with anger. “And the clan believed him?”

“Alphonse is cunning and ruthless,” Marcus said. “He murdered members of the council who opposed him and silenced dissent. With no one left to challenge him, he solidified his rule. But there are those who still remember the truth. They hope for the day when the rightful heir returns.”

Maxwell’s mind raced. The weight of his family’s legacy bore down on him, but doubt clouded his thoughts. “What am I supposed to do with this? I’m not the man you’re describing. I’m just... me.”

Marcus placed a hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. “You’re more than you know, Maxwell. The strength of the Quentin bloodline runs in you. Whether you accept it or not, the truth must come to light. Alphonse’s lies and betrayal can’t go unchallenged.”

Maxwell looked down at his hands, the words sinking in. For the first time, he felt the pull of a destiny shaped by blood, betrayal, and loss. “I need time to think,” he said finally, his voice resolute. “But if what you’re saying is true, Alphonse will pay for what he’s done.”

Marcus nodded, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Your father would be proud of you. And remember, no matter what happens, you’re not alone.”

Alfred, who had remained silent until now, cleared his throat. “If you’re planning to confront Alphonse, there’s a lot of work to be done. You’ve already seen Lenox already, Lenox has been running the clan’s affairs with his father’s approval, and their grip on power won’t be easy to break.”

Maxwell turned to Alfred, his gaze sharper than before. “I’m sure you already have a plan,” he said coolly. “You’ve made your disapproval of me clear enough.”

Alfred’s jaw tightened. “If only you knew how many attempts on your life we’ve stopped. My opinions don’t matter. My duty is to prepare you for what’s ahead.”

Marcus watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. Maxwell was changing—his shoulders no longer slouched, and his voice carried a newfound authority.

“When do you think he’ll be discharged?” Marcus asked the doctor as he entered.

“We still have a few tests to run, but he should be ready by tomorrow afternoon,” the doctor replied before excusing himself.

Maxwell stood, stretching his legs. “I need to clear my head. I’d like to take a walk... alone.”

Alfred and Marcus exchanged wary glances but reluctantly agreed. Deep down, they knew Maxwell would be followed by guards from the shadows.

“I should leave,” Alfred said, grabbing his coat. “I’ll bring him a change of clothes and something to eat. There’s a lot to prepare for.”

Marcus nodded. “Take the guards with you. We’ve drawn too much attention already. Alphonse knows Maxwell is alive, and it’s only a matter of time before he makes his move.”

“Or worse,” Alfred muttered. “Alphonse might bide his time, hiding his hand until he can strike without suspicion. The real power plays are made in the shadows.”

Maxwell returned from the restroom, catching Alfred at the door. “Leaving already?”

Alfred stopped and nodded. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we begin your training, and I won’t go easy on you.”

As Alfred exited, Maxwell’s gaze lingered on Marcus. “What’s next?”

“Everything changes now,” Marcus replied, his voice heavy. “The clan will come for you, Maxwell. But you’ll be ready.”

Later that night

Maxwell walked the hospital halls, his mind awash with conflicting emotions. He passed by dimly lit corridors and shadowed corners, his footsteps echoing softly.

When he reached the end of a long hallway, he paused before a large window overlooking the hospital gardens. The moonlight bathed the scene in silver, but unease prickled at his skin.

A faint sound—like the shuffle of footsteps—broke the stillness. Maxwell turned sharply, his eyes scanning the shadows.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice steady despite the thundering of his heart.

Silence.

He stepped closer to the source of the noise, his senses heightened. Just as he reached a darkened corner, a figure darted out of sight, disappearing into the stairwell.

Maxwell’s breath hitched. Someone had been watching him.

For the first time since learning the truth, the weight of his legacy felt like more than just a burden. It felt like a target. Then Marcus followed him as they continued their discussion. He wanted to tell him he feels a strange presence but no need for that because there will always be a strange presence from now on.