CHAPTER 182: A GLIMPSE INTO OLIVIA AND MAXWELL’S PAST

Maxwell’s POV

I faltered at Kennedy’s question as I opened my mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. "I..."

"Don’t," Kennedy cut me off, his voice low. "Don’t lie to me again, Maxwell. I covered for you in there, but I need the truth now."

My shoulders slumped in defeat. "No. They don’t know. My driver was supposed to pick me up from the library hours ago. They’ve probably called the police by now. My father is probably..."

I couldn’t even finish the sentence. The thought of my father’s cold fury made my stomach twist.

"Jesus." Kennedy ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. "Do you have any idea what could happen to my family if they find out? Your dad could..."

"He won’t!" I nearly yelled. "I swear, Kennedy, he won’t find out. And even if he does, I’ll tell him the truth... that I chose to stay, that your family had nothing to do with it. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you guys. I promise."

Kennedy studied me for a long moment. "You really mean that?"

"Yes. Your family..." My voice cracked. "Your family showed me more kindness today than I’ve gotten in years. I would never let anything bad happen to you because of me. Never."

He sighed, shaking his head. "You’re either really brave or really stupid, Wellington. I haven’t figured out which yet."

"Probably stupid," I admitted.

He smiled, but said nothing. We remained outside for a little while, letting the cool breeze touch our skin.

Then he patted me on the back, "Come on. Let’s go inside before Mum starts worrying."

We found Mrs. Hopton in the living room, folding laundry on the couch. She looked up with a warm smile as we entered.

"Oh good, you’re back. Maxwell, dear, you’ll be sleeping in Kennedy’s room tonight." She looked apologetic. "I’m so sorry about the lack of guest rooms. We only have the three bedrooms - ours, Kennedy’s, and Olivia’s. I hope you don’t mind sharing with Kennedy?"

"Mind?" I shook my head emphatically. "No, ma’am. Thank you so much for letting me stay. I really appreciate it."

"It’s our pleasure, sweetheart." She returned to her folding. "You boys go on up. Don’t stay up too late playing games."

Kennedy started up the stairs, and I followed. But before we’d taken three steps, a small voice called out from the hallway.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

Olivia appeared, already in her pajamas - pink with little cartoon cats all over them.

"To my room," Kennedy said. "To play video games."

Olivia’s eyes lit up. "Can I come?"

"No."

"What? Why not?"

"Because we’re doing guys stuff. You wouldn’t be interested."

Olivia flipped out immediately, looking outraged as she planted both hands on her waist. "Guy stuff? GUY STUFF? Maxy is MY friend, not yours, Kenny! You can’t just take him away from me!"

"Olivia..."

"No! You’re being mean! I met him first, so he’s my friend first! You’re trying to steal him!" Her voice sounded like she was about to cry.

I stepped forward quickly, crouching down next to her. "Hey, Livy. Listen to me."

She crossed her arms, lower lip jutting out stubbornly, but she met my eyes.

"You’re absolutely right," I said gently. "You’re my friend. You’re the one who saved me, remember? But Kennedy is helping me learn to be brave, and that’s really important. Tomorrow I have to face those bullies again, and I need to be ready."

"But..."

"I promise," I continued, "that after tomorrow, after we deal with Peter and his gang, I’ll play with you every single day. Whatever you want. We can play pretend, or read books, or..." I brainstormed for what eight-year-old girls liked, "...or we can have tea parties if you want. I’ll even wear a fancy hat."

Olivia’s stern expression wavered, a giggle threatening to break through. "You’d wear a fancy hat?"

"The fanciest hat you’ve ever seen."

"Every day?"

"Every day," I confirmed.

She considered this, her head tilted to the side. Then she thrust out her pinky finger. "Pinky promise?"

I linked my pinky with her tiny one. "Pinky promise."

"Okay." She squeezed my pinky, then released it. "But if you break your promise, I’m going to pepper spray you."

"That’s fair," I said, trying not to smile.

Kennedy snorted. "Come on, Wellington. Before she thinks of more conditions."

I followed Kennedy up the stairs, but glanced back to see Olivia still standing in the hallway, watching us with a smile.

Kennedy’s room was everything I’d expected - posters of basketball players on the walls, a modest TV with a gaming console, clothes draped over a chair, trophies from various sports lined up on a shelf. It was messy in a lived-in way, not the magazine-perfect cleanliness of my room at home.

"Bathroom’s through there," Kennedy pointed to a door on the left. "Towels are under the sink. You probably want to shower after all that training."

I did. Desperately. "Thanks."

The shower was small but okay. I stayed under the hot water spray, washing away the dirt and sweat down the drain. When I emerged from the bathroom still wearing Mr. Hopton’s old clothes, I felt human again.

Kennedy was sitting on his bed, controller in hand, but the game was paused. He looked up when I came out.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I sat on the sleeping bag he’d laid out on the floor for me. It was really comfortable.

Kennedy set down the controller, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Your dad - Robert Wellington. He’s supposedly this super powerful attorney, right? Like, he destroys people in court. He’s got connections everywhere."

I nodded warily, unsure where this was going.

"So why haven’t you told him about the bullies? Peter and his gang - they’ve been tormenting you for how long?"

"Months," I admitted quietly. "This group specifically. But there have been others before them."

"And your dad doesn’t know?"

I pulled my knees up to my chest. "He knows. Or he knew about the previous ones, anyway. I told him before, many times. And he did take action - got kids expelled, threatened their families with lawsuits, all of that."

"So what’s the problem? Why not tell him about these ones?"

"Because he’s not always around," I said softly. "He travels constantly for work. Big cases, important clients. And even when he is around, he can’t be with me every second. He can’t stand guard at the library or follow me around school." I paused, "and honestly? I think he’s getting tired of it."

Kennedy frowned. "Tired of what?"

"Of me. Of my problems. Of always having to swoop in and fix things because his son can’t handle himself. Last time I told him about bullies, he said..." I swallowed hard. "He said I need to learn to fight my own battles. That I’m going to be a man someday, and if I want to inherit Wellington and Sons, if I want to be taken seriously as an attorney, I need to be strong. I need to handle things myself."

"That’s a lot of pressure for a twelve-year-old."

I laughed, but it came out hollow. "I’m a Wellington. Pressure is kind of our family business."

Kennedy was quiet for a moment, then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Okay. So tomorrow, we make sure you can handle things yourself. But we need a plan."

"A plan?"

"You think I’m just going to let you walk into that alley alone with Peter and his gang? After all the training we did today?" He shook his head. "No way. We’re going to be smart about this."

"But they said to come alone..."

"And you will. Technically." A slow grin spread across his face. "They didn’t say anything about backup hiding nearby, did they? Plus, Olivia would kill me if I let you go alone.

We stayed up late into the night, planning. Kennedy had clearly read military strategy or watched too many action movies, because he laid out a detailed plan involving positioning, timing, and what he called "tactical advantages."