Chapter 7 Billionaire's Scandal

• Maximilian Blackwood stood over Adam Francisco, his sharp gaze filled with nothing but hatred. Adam sat slumped in the chair, his wrists bound behind him, his face bloodied and bruised from the last punch Max had thrown. Yet, even through the pain, Adam still managed that arrogant smirk—the one that had always made Max want to break him.
• Max rolled his sleeves up, flexing his fingers as he paced in front of him. The dim light in the room cast long, eerie shadows, making Adam’s beaten form look even more pathetic.
• “You really think this is about me?” Adam’s voice was hoarse, but the amusement never left his tone.
• Max’s jaw clenched. “You drugged Isabella. You set her up. And you will pay for it.”
• Adam coughed, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting with something close to amusement. “God, you’re so blind.”
• Max’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, he grabbed Adam by the collar and yanked him forward, their faces mere inches apart.
• “Then enlighten me,” Max growled.
• Adam’s smirk widened. “You’re so busy blaming me that you haven’t even considered the bigger picture.” He leaned in just enough that Max could feel his breath. “You think I did all this alone?”
• Max frowned, his grip tightening. “What the hell are you saying?”
• Adam let out a low chuckle, his laughter sending a slow, creeping chill down Max’s spine
• Adam exhaled sharply, wincing at the pain in his ribs. But even in his battered state, he looked pleased with himself, as if he knew something Max didn’t.
• “You’re still not getting it, are you?” Adam rasped, licking the blood from his split lip. “You think I orchestrated this whole thing by myself? No, Max. I was just the weapon.” His dark eyes gleamed as he added, “They’re the ones who pulled the trigger.”
• Max’s grip tightened on Adam’s collar, his heart pounding in his chest. “Who?”
• Adam grinned through the pain. “Ask your family.”
• For a moment, the world tilted. A cold sensation curled around Max’s spine, his pulse hammering against his skull.
• His phone buzzed in his pocket. He hesitated before pulling it out, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face. The screen lit up with a message from an unknown number.
• Unknown Number: Your father wants to see you. Come alone. We need to talk.
• Max felt something shift inside him.
• Adam let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “See? Now you’re starting to get it.”
• Max stared at him for a long, tense moment. Then, without another word, he let go of Adam’s collar and turned for the door.
• Max arrived at the Blackwood estate just past midnight. The towering mansion loomed before him, its gothic architecture cast in the glow of the courtyard lights. The grand doors opened before he even had a chance to knock, as if his father had been expecting him.
• A butler led him through the familiar halls, the polished floors echoing his footsteps. The scent of aged wood and expensive whiskey filled the air, wrapping around him like a ghost of his past.
• Finally, he was ushered into his father’s study.
• Gerald Blackwood sat behind an elaborate mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn’t look surprised to see Max. In fact, he looked perfectly at ease, like a man who held all the cards.
• Max shut the door behind him, his movements sharp and precise. “You wanted to see me?”
• His father gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit.”
• Max didn’t move. “I’ll stand.” His voice was cold, measured. “What the hell is going on?”
• Gerald swirled the whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip. When he finally looked at Max, there was something unreadable in his gaze.
• “Adam has a big mouth, doesn’t he?”
• The casualness of his tone sent a fresh wave of anger through Max. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
• “So, it’s true?” His voice was quieter this time, but no less dangerous.
• Gerald sighed, setting his glass down. “Max, you’re making this more dramatic than it needs to be.”
• Max took a step forward, his muscles coiled tight. “Did you have something to do with Isabella’s setup?”
• His father leaned back in his chair, his expression unbothered. “I did what was necessary for this family.”
• Max let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” His voice dripped with venom. “You ruined my engagement. You humiliated Isabella. You turned me against her.”
• Gerald remained perfectly calm. “No, Max. She was the mistake. You were too blinded by your emotions to see it.”
• Max’s stomach twisted with rage. “So what was the plan? Destroy her reputation so I’d call off the wedding? Manipulate me into walking away?”
• His father tilted his head slightly. “The plan was to ensure you married someone better. She’s weak Adam and I don’t like weak people and besides her family is way too arrogant and that’s the more reason why we didn’t get along up until now.”
• Max felt his blood run cold.
• “You had Adam drug her?” His voice was dangerously low now.
• Gerald’s lips curled in distaste. “Adam was an easy tool to use. His obsession with Isabella made him reckless. All it took was a few whispered ideas, and he ran with it.”
• Max could barely breathe. “And you let me believe she slept with him willingly.”
• “It was necessary,” Gerald said simply. “You needed to see the truth—that Isabella Fontaine is a weakness. A daughter of a long enemy of mine.” He picked up his whiskey again, studying the amber liquid. “She had to be removed.”
• Max’s vision blurred with fury.
• For months, he had drowned in guilt and anger, believing Isabella had betrayed him. He had hated her. Blamed her.
• And all along, it had been his own family pulling the strings.
• “How could you do this?” His voice was low, controlled—but the storm inside him was raging.
• Gerald sighed, as if tired of the conversation. “One day, you’ll understand. You will inherit this empire, and when you do, you’ll see that emotions have no place in business.”
• Max took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to remain steady. “And what if I don’t accept that?”
• His father smirked, as if amused. “Then you’ll have to decide what matters more—your family or her.”
• The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.
• Max turned toward the door, his jaw locked, his mind already spinning with plans. But before he left, he spoke in a quiet, lethal voice.
• “Consider this my warning.” He didn’t turn around as he spoke, but his words carried enough weight to make the air in the room feel heavier. “I don’t care if you’re my father—if you come for Isabella again, I’ll burn this family to the ground.”
• And with that, he walked out.