Oliver's POV
As we pulled into the airport, I expected Maxwell to head toward the main terminal where all the regular flights departed. You know, the usual chaos of security lines, overpriced coffee, and crying babies. But instead, our car veered off in a completely different direction, toward what looked like a more exclusive part of the airport.
"Um, where are we going?" I asked hesitantly, breaking the intimidating silence that had dominated our entire drive.
Maxwell didn't answer, just continued staring straight ahead with that infuriatingly unreadable expression of his.
We drove past several hangars and smaller buildings until finally, the car began to slow down. And that's when I saw it.
Standing majestically on the tarmac was the most beautiful private jet I'd ever seen in real life - not that I've actually seen any one in real life. It was gleaming, sleek white with elegant blue accents, and there, boldly written across the side in bold letters, was the name "MAXWELL."
