Chapter 33

Max’s POV

The perfect groom.

That was the mask I wore as I stood at the altar, hands folded in front of me, exuding the effortless confidence everyone expected from Maxwell Hollandale. The cameras were flashing, the crowd was watching, and the priest’s voice droned on, each word blending into the next. But beneath it all, my thoughts were elsewhere. I had been playing this game for so long—pretending, charming, deceiving—that even now, standing in front of a hundred people pledging myself to Sienna, it almost felt like second nature.

Almost.

The priest turned to me. His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts.

“Maxwell Hollandale, do you take Sienna Brooks to be your lawfully wedded wife?” I barely blinked. Then, without warning, the past came rushing in.

***

The waves crashed against the shore, the warm sun casting a golden glow over the beach. Hester was laughing—really laughing, her head tilted back, her dark curls wild from the salty air.

“You’re terrible at this,” she teased, nudging me as I tried—and failed—to balance the surfboard.

I smirked, brushing wet sand off my chest. “That’s rich coming from someone who just fell five times.”

She pouted. “At least I lasted longer than you.”

“You’re carrying extra weight,” I said, glancing down at her slightly rounded stomach.

Hester’s expression softened. She placed a hand over her belly, her eyes glowing with something tender. “Can you believe it?” she murmured. “In a few months, we’re going to be parents.”

I stared at her, at the woman who had once been my whole world. Back then, things had been simpler.

I had loved her. Or at least, I thought I did.

“Max,” she said, breaking me from my thoughts.

“What if it’s a boy?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then I’ll teach him how to surf better than you.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “No, seriously. What would we name him?”

I hesitated. “Julian would kill me if I named him after myself.”

“Not Max Jr.,” she groaned. “Something meaningful.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Elias,” I said finally.

“Strong. Classic.”

Hester smiled. “Elias Hollandale,” she whispered. “I like that.”

For a second, the world had felt right.

Then—

***

I blinked, snapping back to the present.

Hester was gone. The woman I had once laughed with, dreamed with—she wasn’t standing on that beach anymore.

She was standing against me.

Just like Edwina.

Another memory surfaced, sharper, more recent.

***

The hotel suite had been dimly lit, the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. This was when I had just finished the interview with Ben and the TV channel as regards the scandals being spread about my wife to-be; just before someone had been out to kill me on the road trip. I had just stepped out of the shower, towel draped around my waist, when I heard the knock.

I frowned. Room service?

I opened the door—

And there she was.

Edwina.

Standing in a dangerously tight red dress, her lips painted a deep crimson, eyes gleaming with mischief. I sighed. “Should’ve known you’d show up eventually.”

She smiled, stepping inside without an invitation.

“You missed me?”

“It’s not like you and I are meant to even see each other. I mean, are you that desperate? Why would you travel all the way to come see me here… Just to achieve what? To stop the wedding?”

“Can I, at least, come in?” She asked.

I was curious. Yeah, I know. I had my mischievous, arrogant way of dismissing people by first making them appear as fools. I gave her way in and then I shut the door behind her, crossing my arms. “What do you want?”

She sauntered toward me, trailing a manicured finger down my chest. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by. Catch up.”

I smirked. “And by ‘catch up,’ you mean throw yourself at me?”

She leaned in, her breath warm against my neck. “Would that be so bad?”

I smirked. “I’m about to marry your sister in some hours to go and here you are, about to sleep with his man?”

She scoffed. “Then let me enjoy this man before he ties the knot with someone that clearly doesn’t deserve him.”

“Like how you stole her previous husband?”

“Think about it—all the men that have been with my sister eventually choose me…” Because you fools pride yourselves on taking everything away from her. “...So why do you think you would not want to choose me? Let me show you.”

She came just close enough. I let her get close—just close enough to think she was winning. I could feel the touch of her lips so slightly before I moved backward.

“Don’t run…” She giggled as she reached for the towel, trying to grab my flaccid member.

Then, I gripped her wrist. Hard.

She gasped.

I tilted my head. “You really think I’d be dumb enough to fall for this?”

Her mask slipped. The sultry smile faded, replaced by something bitter. “Max, you don’t have to marry her.”

I chuckled darkly. “And what? Be with you?”

She stiffened.

I leaned down, my voice dangerously low. “You think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing? You don’t want me, Edwina. You just don’t want Sienna to win.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“Get out,” I said, my grip tightening. “Before I make you.”

Her face burned with humiliation.

She yanked her wrist free, glaring at me. “You’ll regret this,” she hissed.

I smirked. “I doubt it.”

Then, she stormed out.

***

I let my gaze wander through the church, scanning the audience until I found her.

Edwina.

Sitting stiffly in her seat, her expression carefully neutral, but her hands clenched into fists. She was seething.

Good.

I let a slow, smug smirk curl my lips. Then, I turned back to the priest.

“I do.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The words felt foreign on my tongue.

But the second I said them—

The deal was sealed.