Stranger in my Ass Chapter 300

Maxwell’s POV

The hot water beat down on my shoulders, washing away the exhaustion of the past few days, but it couldn’t wash away the image of Olivia standing at that hospital window.

Hollow. Broken. Lost.

Because of my father.

Because of my family.

I stood under the shower until the water started to run cold, then forced myself out and got dressed in fresh clothes that felt strange after days of wearing the sa thing.

My house felt too big. Too empty. Too quiet.

I made my way to the kitchen and forced myself to eat sothing - eggs and toast that tasted like paper but my body needed the fuel for what was coming.

Because I was going to find my father.

And I was going to end this.

I pulled out my phone and made the call.

"Assemble everyone," I told my head of security. "Every available man. I need them at the house in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir. May I ask what this is regarding?"

"Manhunt," I said simply. "I’ll brief everyone when they arrive."

Twenty-eight minutes later, my living room was filled with security personnel - twelve n in total, all experienced, all loyal, all waiting for instructions.

"My father who was presud dead is alive and raving mad." I said without preamble, watching their faces shift from confusion to shock. "Apparently, he didn’t die in a fire breakout as we all thought. He faked his own death, and now he’s resurfaced. He’s dangerous, ntally unstable, and he’s already hurt people."

I pulled up a photo on my phone - an old one from before the psychiatric hospital, when my father still looked relatively normal.

"This is what he looked like ten years ago. He’s older now, with facial hair, but the basic features are the sa. I need you to find him. Check everywhere - his old haunts, properties registered under shell companies, anywhere he might hide. And when you find him, you call imdiately. Do not engage. He’s ard and dangerous. I’ll send you the address of every Wellington property you should check."

"Sir," one of the n spoke up. "Should we involve the police?"

"They’re already looking for him," I said. "But they don’t have the resources we do. We’re going to find him first."

I was about to continue when I heard footsteps behind .

"Well, well," a familiar voice said, amused. "Looks like soone’s going to war."

I turned to find Damien leaning against the doorfra, dressed in a casual wear, looking completely relaxed despite the tension in the room.

"This isn’t the ti for jokes, Damien," I said sharply.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Who’s joking? You’ve got a whole army assembled here. Thought maybe you were planning to invade a small country."

"Our father is alive," I said, my patience wearing thin. "And he’s been going around causing havoc. He tried to kill Olivia. He tried to drown her. And he..." My voice caught. "He attacked her father. Put him in a coma. So yes, I’m assembling everyone I have to find him and bring him down."

Damien’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more amused.

"You’re releasing all these n just to find dear old dad?" he asked, his tone still light. "Isn’t that a bit overkill?"

Sothing about his tone set my teeth on edge.

"This really isn’t a joke," I said, my voice hardening. "If you’re here to joke around, I’m not in the mood. You should leave."

I turned back to my security team, ready to continue the briefing.

But then sothing registered in my mind. Sothing off about Damien’s reaction.

Or rather, his lack of reaction.

I spun back around to face him.

"Why aren’t you shocked?" I asked slowly. "I just told you our father - who you thought was dead - is alive. And you’re acting like I told you the weather forecast."

Damien’s smile widened slightly.

"Because," he said, pushing off from the doorfra and strolling into the room, "the old man ca to my house last night. All covered in blood, ranting and raving about how we needed to work together to eradicate the Hopton family so you could finally be free from Olivia’s ’manipulation.’"

The room went dead silent.

I was on my feet in an instant, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Where is he?" I demanded, my voice dangerously low. "Where is that bastard right now?"

"Still at my place," Damien said casually, examining his fingernails. "Probably sleeping off the whiskey I gave him last night. He was quite worked up when he arrived."

I turned to my security team. "Everyone, we’re moving out. Now."

"Wait," Damien said, holding up a hand. "There’s no need to hurry."

"No need to hurry? What if he disappears?" I asked, my mind already racing with possibilities. "How do you know he’s still there?"

"Because I made him believe I was on his side," Damien said, and for the first ti, his expression turned serious. "Told him I’d help him with his insane plan. And my security has been watching him like a hawk since he passed out. He’s not going anywhere."

"Then let’s go," I said, already moving toward the door.

"Maxwell," Damien called out, stopping . "You don’t need all these n. That’ll tip him off imdiately. Five is enough. Any more than that and he’ll know sothing’s up."

I looked at my head of security. "You and four others. The rest of you stay on standby in case we need backup."

We piled into two vehicles - the five security personnel in one SUV, and riding with Damien.

As soon as we pulled out of my driveway, Damien glanced over at .

"So," he said. "You want to tell what actually happened? The full story?"

I took a breath and laid it all out. Finding Olivia at the beach house. The attack. The chase into the ocean. Nearly drowning. Going into town for help. The phone call. Mrs. Hopton’s screams. Mr. Hopton fighting for his life and now lying in a coma in the ICU.

Damien was quiet as I spoke, his usual playful expression replaced by sothing harder.

"Why is he doing this?" he asked when I finished. "Is he really that insane? Or does he just hate Olivia that much?"