Max could finally recall who Alicia was.
Emily had always loved art.
She wasn't just a collector — she was an artist herself. Whenever an opportunity arose to see others' work, she would light up with excitement. Sometimes she commissioned pieces, not to own them, but to study them, to copy, to learn, to perfect her own skills.
Back then, she hadn't even planned to buy anything at the exhibition. She only wanted to enjoy herself.
The way her eyes sparkled as she admired the artworks was something Max could never overlook.
Emily was precious to him. Her innocence alone made her the best kind of human in his eyes.
When they arrived at the venue that day, Max immediately sensed something off.
Someone was watching him.
He couldn't make out the woman's face, but when he glanced sideways, he caught the color of her dress, a purple gown, its flared hem brushing against the floor. She didn't look like someone there to purchase art.
Max didn't need to stare to notice things like that.
Then Emily stopped.
A single artwork had captured her attention.
It was a painting of a fallen mermaid.
A massive rock protruded from the sea, its surface smooth and oval. Draped across it was a mermaid, a pitchfork pierced straight through her heart. Dark red blood stained the stone, droplets trailing into the water below.
It was tragic.
Haunting.
Mesmerizing.
Once your eyes landed on it, it was almost impossible to look away. The piece stirred curiosity, made you wonder about the story behind it.
Max wasn't an art enthusiast, yet even he raised a brow at its beauty.
Before he realized it, Emily pointed at the painting.
She wanted it.
At that moment, the figure who had been watching Max rushed forward.
Emily had never been this obsessed with a piece before. She let go of Max's hand and hurried toward the artwork, only to see the woman in purple already standing before it, as if she had claimed it.
Emily's shoulders drooped slightly in disappointment. She didn't argue. She didn't sulk.
Max spoke instead, asking if the woman truly wanted the piece, explaining that his sister liked it very much.
Alicia snapped her head toward them, feigning surprise, as though she had only just noticed their presence.
Max didn't bother questioning it. He played along.
"Oh, sweetie," Alicia said softly, turning her gaze to Emily.
Emily offered her a tight smile.
Determined not to lose it, Emily pulled out her phone, ready to take a picture so she could recreate it herself.
That was when Alicia offered it to her.
Emily's face lit up. She thanked Alicia repeatedly and urged Max to secure the purchase before someone else did.
They couldn't take it immediately anyway.
Alicia extended her hand toward Max as if they had formed a bond from the encounter but he ignored her hand tactfully by turning away to call over an attendant.
Emily, quick to smooth things over, took Alicia's hand instead and explained, with an apologetic smile, that her brother didn't like physical contact.
Alicia smiled sweetly and introduced herself.
Emily did the same, even including Max's name.
Later, Max discovered the truth.
Alicia was the artist.
She had painted the fallen mermaid herself and had acted the entire scene flawlessly.
Max despised hypocrites.
He erased her from his mind that very day.
…
And now here she was, still clinging to her lies.
If Max had said the word nonsense, it was only because he remembered exactly who she was.
That, and her connection to Olivia.
He still didn't understand what the Smith family wanted from him. He had no desire for personal involvement with them.
If it was business, fine.
But somehow, the Smiths had a way of dragging emotions out of him, emotions he believed were long under control.
He rarely lost his composure.
Yet both women had a talent for poking the precise places that irritated him most.
They annoyed him.
Alicia blinked rapidly, opening and closing her mouth like a fish struggling for air.
"Is that all?" Max finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Well…" she said slowly. "I thought you'd be pleased to know we came from the same town. But it seems it'll take more than that to interest Mr. Walker."
Max raised a brow. "Sorry?"
Shameless as she was and aware that pursuing Max wasn't just her desire but also her father's mission, Alicia pressed on.
"I want to know you," she said plainly. "And I want you to be curious about me. We're adults, I'm sure you understand."
Max shut his eyes briefly and exhaled sharply.
Before he could respond, she added, "I've made a reservation. Let's talk over lunch."
Max didn't answer.
He turned, walked towards his car, opened the car door, and drove off, leaving Alicia standing there, stunned.
He didn't refuse.
He didn't argue.
He simply left.
The realization hit her like a slap to the face.
How humiliating.
…
A few minutes later, Max arrived home.
After parking, he noticed his men lounging beneath a canopy near the triangular pool outside the villa. They moved to stand, but he raised a hand, signaling them to stay put.
Inside the house, Heidi was deep in thought, still strategizing how to trick Max, when she heard footsteps.
She looked up and her eyes lit up.
Max looked irritated.
That was perfect.
When he was in this mood, he tolerated no one and certainly didn't stop to question things.
Heidi stood and approached him.
Max waved her away, but she refused to miss the opportunity.
"Boss, your parents asked for my help with something, so I wanted to get your permission before—"
"Do whatever they asked," Max said flatly, cutting her off as he walked toward his room.
"Yes!" Heidi whispered excitedly.
He had unknowingly given his approval to Emma coming under his roof.