Charles often found himself wanting to return home to enjoy a meal prepared by Janine. Her cooking had always been a comforting constant for him, and he missed it while he was away working.
Janine, lost in her cooking, didn’t hear his question. Harvey walked out of his room, holding a book, his expression cold as ever.
“Because there will be a guest,” he said, his tone flat.
“A guest?” Charles asked, puzzled. Since when did they have guests over? They’d only recently moved to Jipsburg, and didn’t have any relatives nearby. As for their friends, they usually met up outside instead of inviting anyone to their home.
Had Janine made new friends at work who wanted to visit?
Harvey’s face twisted in distaste. “It’s Maisy.”
The mention of Maisy’s name immediately darkened Charles’s mood. He frowned, his expression turning serious. “Her?”
“Mom says Maisy knows she was wrong,” Harvey added, a sneer in his voice.
Charles wasn’t buying it. “If Maisy knows she was wrong, then pigs can fly,” he muttered. He had no doubt that Maisy had something up her sleeve. She wouldn’t show up unless she had an agenda.
“Did Mom really believe that?” Charles asked, his frown deepening as he glanced at the dishes on the table. “Looks like she did.”
He shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. “Alright, I’ll see what Maisy plans to do. But if she thinks she can fool us, she’s gravely mistaken.”
Harvey grimaced. “I feel sick just thinking about eating with her.”
Both Charles and Harvey were certain that Janine was too trusting. They had met Maisy before and knew what kind of person she was. Her sudden change of attitude couldn’t be genuine—there had to be something more to it.
Meanwhile, Maisy stood at the entrance of the unit downstairs, looking up at the rundown building. It was her first time here, and she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. The place was shabby, and the door didn’t even have a proper lock—it was left wide open, as if no one cared.
Dressed in high-end designer clothes, Maisy was completely out of place in such a neighborhood. Someone downstairs whistled at her as she passed, and she felt a wave of distaste. The people here were so uncultured, she thought to herself, trying not to show her irritation.
But she endured it. She had to. After all, if she wanted Skylar to be left with nothing, she would put up with this filthy place.
As Maisy climbed the stairs, the higher she went, the more repulsed she became. She could never live here. The thought of being stuck in such a place was unbearable for her—it was a life she simply could not accept. But for Skylar’s sake, she would endure it.
When she reached the seventh floor, she knocked on the door.
No one answered immediately.
Charles and Harvey exchanged glances, neither eager to open the door. But when Charles saw Janine, still busy in the kitchen, he sighed in resignation. “Alright, let’s see how much Mom is willing to put up with.”
“You’re the older brother. You open the door,” Harvey grumbled, eyeing the door like it was some kind of monster.
Charles raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. With a deep breath, he approached and opened the door.
“Brother,” Maisy greeted with a sweet smile as soon as she saw him.
Charles felt a shiver run down his spine, and goosebumps crept up his arm. He immediately felt uncomfortable. “Your brother is Peter. Don’t call me that,” he snapped, not hiding his discomfort.
Maisy’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. She gritted her teeth but kept her voice sweet. “He’s also my brother, but you’re my biological brother.”
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