Ten Days to Leave My Stepbrother (Beatrice) novel Chapter 13

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**Across Quiet Meadows Rise Dreams Waiting For Their Moment – Chapter 13**

As Maverick listened to the sharp and biting accusations hurled at him, the easygoing demeanor he usually wore began to crumble. The warmth in his expression faded, replaced by a chilling coldness that settled in his eyes.

Celia, sensing the tension thickening between father and son, felt a pang of anxiety. She hurriedly stepped in, eager to diffuse the brewing storm. “Maverick, the child has to socialize for work. A little drinking is unavoidable, so why are you scolding him?” Her voice was steady, but it carried an undercurrent of urgency.

“Are you feeling unwell, Maverick? Go wash up first. I’ll make you some soup to help you sober up.” Her concern was palpable, a tender touch amidst the brewing conflict.

But Maverick, feeling the weight of frustration settle on his shoulders, could no longer muster the patience to play along. He shot back a curt response before retreating upstairs, the words hanging in the air like a bitter aftertaste. “No need,” he muttered, dismissing her concern as he ascended the stairs.

Once in the solitude of his bathroom, the cold water from the shower was a shock to his system, but it did little to ease the growing ache in his stomach. Gritting his teeth against the discomfort, he rummaged through the cabinets, desperate for relief. All he found was an empty packet of stomach medicine, a cruel reminder of his plight. Frustrated, he slammed his fist down on the table, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

Cold sweat mingled with the remnants of the shower as it dripped down his forehead, a stark reminder of his current state. Gritting his teeth, he wiped his face, determination hardening his features. Just as he was about to brave the descent to the hospital for help, he swung open the door and collided with Celia, who was ascending with a steaming tray of soup.

Her eyes widened in concern as she promptly handed him the tray. “Maverick, please drink this soup. You need it, or you’ll definitely feel worse. I’ll talk to your father; you just need to focus on resting.” Her voice was soothing, a balm for his frayed nerves.

Maverick, forcing himself to mask the pain that clawed at him, nodded in response, attempting to maintain a facade of indifference. He took the tray back to his room, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

As he closed the door behind him, his hand began to tremble uncontrollably, the bowl of hot soup threatening to spill over. The rich aroma of honey and ginger filled the air, but he couldn’t bring himself to savor it. The pain surged again, and he collapsed onto the floor, staring at the steaming bowl as if it were a cruel joke.

When the pain subsided just enough, he gathered the strength to pick up the bowl. He staggered into the bathroom, where he poured the soup down the toilet, watching the golden liquid swirl away as if it were a part of him. A slight relief washed over him as he tossed the empty bowl into the sink, leaning against the wall for support. Slowly, he made his way back to his room, where he collapsed onto the bed, his damp hair soaking into the quilt.

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Chapter

He lay there, motionless on the wet bed, trapped in a haze of pain and despair. Time slipped by, unmeasured and unmarked, until the torment finally began to ease.

With bloodshot eyes, he picked up his phone and dialed his mother, who was far away in Paris. The phone rang, each tone echoing in the silence of his room, but only the relentless beeping greeted him.

No answer. Just a message from her secretary, cold and impersonal: “Mr. Melton, sorry, Ms. Leland is in a meeting. As soon as the meeting ends, I’ll notify her to call you back immediately.”