“Remember,” he said under his breath, voice calm but edged with warning. “We play the role. No cracks. No hesitation.”
Maxon paused just outside the ballroom doors, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses leaking through the polished wood. He adjusted his cufflinks once—slow, deliberate—then turned to Victoria.
Victoria crossed her arms, jaw tightening. “I am trying, okay?” she hissed back. “But you’re not Lewis.”
Maxon’s eyes flicked to the doors, then back to her. “Not here. Not now.”
Her laugh was brittle. “And when does this stop? When do we stop pretending?” Her voice dropped, frustration spilling through. “I didn’t sign up to play house with a ghost. I want this to end, Maxon. I want to be with Lewis as soon as possible, so we better end this.”
He held her gaze, unreadable. “It ends when it has to.”
A beat of silence stretched between them. Then Maxon straightened, the mask sliding back into place—composed, distant, controlled.
“Smile,” he said quietly. “They’re watching.”
Victoria exhaled sharply, then forced her expression into something soft, affectionate. She slipped her arm through his, fingers curling possessively as if it were natural—real.
Inside, though, her thoughts were anything but calm. She was already searching the room for Lewis, instinctively, desperately, as if he might appear and make sense of the mess they’d created.
She hated the waiting, the pretending, the way this charade refused to end. She wanted it over—wanted her life back, wanted clarity instead of lies layered over lies.
And more than anything, she couldn’t wait for Nadine to be gone from their lives entirely, erased like an inconvenient chapter. Then, she told herself, everything would finally fall into place.
The doors opened.
The ballroom of the Madeline Estate glimmered beneath crystal chandeliers, every surface polished to perfection for the matriarch’s birthday. Old money, old power, old bloodlines—everything Madeline stood for was on full display.
Madeline approached them slowly, her sharp eyes never leaving his face. Age had silvered her hair, but nothing dulled her instincts. She studied him the way she always had—like a chessboard she’d memorized decades ago.
“So,” Madeline said at last, her cane tapping lightly against the marble floor. “You’re really back.”
Maxon inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, Grandma.”
“And your memories?” she pressed. “You told me on the phone you remembered nothing.”
He exhaled, as if the subject still weighed on him. “The accident damaged most of them. I woke up confused. Disoriented. If it weren’t for Victoria…” He glanced at the woman beside him. “I wouldn’t have survived. She saved me. Took care of me.”
Victoria straightened immediately, eyes shining. “I did what anyone would’ve done,” she said softly. “I couldn’t leave him alone.”
Madeline’s gaze shifted to Victoria—slow, assessing, unkind.
“Are you sure about this?” Madeline asked bluntly. “About her, Maxon.”
Victoria stiffened.
Madeline didn’t stop. “I won’t lie. I don’t think she’s the right woman for you. I’m sorry, Victoria, but I’ve always imagined my grandson with someone like Nadine.”
The name landed heavily.
Maxon’s fingers twitched at his side.
Speaking of Nadine… Madeline turned, scanning the ballroom. “Where is she?”
A pause followed. An uncomfortable one.
“She isn’t here yet,” Victoria said quickly, forcing a smile. “Maybe she’s just late.”
Madeline cut her a sharp look. “Nadine is never late.”
Victoria’s smile faltered. Inside, irritation boiled. Why is it always Nadine? she thought bitterly. Why her and not me?
Madeline turned away from her and pulled out her phone. “Lewis,” she snapped into the call. “Where is your wife?”
Lewis arrived moments later, breath slightly uneven. “I’ve been calling her, Grandma. She hasn’t answered yet.”
Madeline’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hurt her?”
“What? No!” Lewis said immediately. “We didn’t fight. Everything was fine.”
“Then why isn’t she here?” Madeline demanded. “On my birthday. After everything I’ve done for her?”
Before Lewis could answer, footsteps echoed behind them.
The butler approached, holding an ornate gift box.
“A delivery for you, Madam,” he said. “From Ms. Nadine.”
Madeline’s expression softened—for half a second. “At least she remembered.”
She accepted the box, her fingers deft as she opened it in front of everyone.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Inside were documents, photos, printed messages, medical records, bank transfers, and a neatly typed letter resting on top.
Madeline’s eyes scanned the contents once, then twice, each line carving deeper into her expression. The color drained from her face, shock giving way to something far more dangerous—understanding.
Her hands began to shake, not with weakness, but with fury barely contained. Slowly, deliberately, she looked up, her gaze moving from the twins to Lewis, then to Maxon, and finally to Victoria, her eyes sharp, wounded, and burning with betrayal that cut through the ballroom like a blade.
“You…” she whispered.
Then—
SLAP.
The sound echoed across the ballroom.
Lewis staggered back, stunned.
SLAP.
Maxon’s head snapped to the side.
“You traitors,” Madeline hissed, fury blazing through her veins. “You switched identities. You lied to everyone. You destroyed that girl.”
She turned to Lewis, her eyes burning. “You hurt Nadine. You cheated. You poisoned her body with lies—and now she’s divorced you!”
Lewis’s mouth fell open. “Divorced?”
Madeline laughed bitterly. “From this moment on, both of you are no longer my grandsons.”
The room erupted in gasps.
Maxon blinked, stunned. “What… what do you mean she left?”
Madeline’s voice was ice. “Where else would she go? She left both of you.”
Before anyone could react, another butler rushed in, holding a tablet.
“Madam,” he said urgently. “This just broke.”
The screen displayed a headline in bold letters:
BUSINESS TYCOON ISAAC HOLT MARRIES IN SECRET CEREMONY
Beneath it—
A photo.
