Ten Days to Leave My Stepbrother (Beatrice) novel Chapter 17

**Across Quiet Meadows Rise Dreams Waiting For Their Moment**
**Chapter 17**

**298 Vouchers**

“We can’t go back anymore, Mac,” Beatrice stated firmly, her heart heavy with the weight of their situation.

On the other end of the line, silence stretched like a taut string, and she could almost hear the rapid rhythm of his breath, each exhale betraying the turmoil within him. She felt a pang of sympathy, knowing he was teetering on the brink of despair, a fragile edge that could easily shatter their family into irreparable pieces.

The thought of pushing him further into that abyss terrified her. She didn’t want to ignite the flames of rage that had consumed him for so long, risking everything they had built together. Instead, she chose her words carefully, pouring her heart into her plea.

“Please, let my mom go. She hasn’t done anything wrong, Mac. All she has ever wanted was to support you, to support Dad, to nurture this family. She dreams of a life filled with stability and peace. Just let her go.”

As her voice trembled with emotion, the bitter hatred that had long gripped Maverick’s heart began to wane, slowly extinguished by the sincerity in her tone. A wave of confusion washed over him, a foggy realization that he had been lost in for years. It was as if he was emerging from a long, disorienting dream, struggling to grasp the reality of what he had loved and what he had loathed.

He felt like a man standing in a garden, trying to see the beauty of flowers through a thick mist, or like a child reaching for the moon’s reflection in a shimmering pond, only to find it elusive and unattainable.

Maverick remained on the balcony, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, as he stared into the distance, lost in thought. It was only when Celia knocked on the door that he was jolted back to reality.

Turning to face her, he instinctively averted his gaze, unable to meet her concerned eyes. Celia, as always, approached him with warmth, offering a cup of coffee, her voice laced with genuine care.

“Did you have an argument with Bex? She’s been restless, you know. She loves being at home, but she also yearns to explore the world. She’s still young, after all. Please don’t hold it against her. She didn’t want to worry you, which is why she asked us to keep it a secret.”

As her soothing words wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, Maverick could only muster a noncommittal hum in response. He handed the phone back to her, a silent gesture of surrender, and turned to leave the room.

He felt a profound sense of disconnection, unsure how to bridge the chasm growing between himself and Celia. Avoidance seemed the only option. But just as he reached for the doorknob, her voice called out once more, breaking through his reverie.

“Maverick, your birthday is just around the corner. How do you want to celebrate? Would you prefer a gathering with friends, or should I plan something special for you?”

Her question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. After the emotional turmoil of the morning, he had almost forgotten about the upcoming day that was supposed to be filled with joy.

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“Just arrived in London and already up so early? Have you managed to adjust to the time difference?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Beatrice placed a hand on her chest, taking a moment to steady herself. She hesitated but ultimately accepted the breakfast, taking a seat at the table.

“More or less. Where are your parents? Did they leave for the day?”

Greyson turned back toward the kitchen, retrieving another plate and a glass of juice, setting them in front of her with a casual grace.

“They’re not awake yet. They usually sleep in until after ten. Don’t worry about them—feel free to get up whenever you want. There’s a housekeeper in the kitchen; just let her know what you’d like to eat.”

The relaxed atmosphere of their household was palpable, and Beatrice couldn’t help but appreciate the easygoing nature of the Sterling family. She made a mental note to set her alarm for a more reasonable hour next time.

As they quietly enjoyed their breakfast, Beatrice turned to Greyson, her voice tentative yet hopeful. “It’s the weekend. Do you have some time? I’d like to check out the apartment.”

Greyson’s face lit up with understanding. “I’m free. I’ll take you there.”