Amelia POV The distance between us wasn’t measured in steps or walls. It was in silence. In the way Maxwell avoided my eyes, in the way he left the room just as I entered, in the way the air seemed to thicken whenever I reached for him and found only the shadow of the man I loved.I sat at the edge of the bed, twisting the hem of my shirt, waiting for his footsteps. The clock ticked louder than my breathing, each second dragging like an accusation. He’d been in his office again too long, too quiet. That office had become his fortress, and I was the intruder knocking at locked doors.When he finally appeared, his tie loosened, his jaw rigid, I felt my chest tighten. My hands curled into fists on my lap to keep them from trembling. I forced my voice steady. “Maxwell… we need to talk.”He paused at the doorway, wary, like I had laid a trap he wasn’t sure how to avoid. His gaze swept over me, but it was distant, guarded. “About what?”“Don’t,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.
Victoria POV The house hummed with a dangerous sort of order, like a clock that had learned to beat to someone else’s rules. Maxwell’s silence had become its own sound a calculated thing. He moved beneath it like a man with a knife stowed away, and I had to know when he was going to strike.He thought he could plan in private. He thought he could keep secrets from me. How quaint.I paced the sitting room, heels clicking, until the sound ricocheted off the walls. Maxwell never wasted noise. If he was quiet, it meant he was thinking, planning. And when he planned, he always left little traces breadcrumbs for those who knew how to read them.A small face interrupted me, the one that had once been a perfect, adoptable copy of my own. Lila sat on the rug, fingers tangled in a doll’s hair, eyes bright and careless.“Mummy… when do we go see Daddy?” she asked. Then, softer, hesitantly: “And Amelia?”The word landed with the weight of a thrown stone. Amelia. Even from a child it sounded like
Maxwell POV Amelia thought I didn’t notice the way her eyes followed me lately, lingering too long when I slipped out of a room, narrowing when I came back late, searching me like she could read the secrets I refused to spill. She was right to doubt me—but for the wrong reasons.It wasn’t because I was wavering. It was because I was planning.And this time, Amelia couldn’t be part of it.I couldn’t risk her. Not when the weight of one mistake could shatter everything.The office felt like a redoubt now. Papers spread across the desk, scribbled notes, numbers, routes. Surveillance footage flickered across the screen, the angles grainy but enough to tell me one thing: Victoria’s reach was closer than ever.I leaned back, rubbing my temples. The silence in the house pressed in, heavy, accusing. Amelia probably thought I was pulling away, keeping her at arm’s length again. And she wasn’t wrong. But it wasn’t distance for the sake of pride this time—it was protection.If she knew the leng
Maxwell POV I found her in Lila’s room.The light was dim, just a slant of moon cutting across the small bed, the stuffed animals lined in their uneven row. Amelia sat on the edge, her hands curled tight in her lap, her head bent low.I didn’t need to see the shine on her cheeks to know. She’d been crying.She wanted me to believe nothing was wrong, that she was unshaken, but I knew better. I always knew.She stood by the window, her back half-turned to me, fiddling with the curtains like the thin fabric had suddenly become important. It hadn’t. She didn’t want me to notice the truth shining in her eyes.But I noticed everything.“Amelia,” I said softly, testing the waters.She didn’t turn. Her voice, when it came, was too bright, too clipped. “What is it?”“You’re crying.”Her head snapped toward me, quick, almost defensive. “I wasn’t. Something got in my eyes, that’s all.”The lie was fragile. I almost wished I could let her keep it, but I couldn’t. Not when her tears were as much
Amelia POV Lila’s room was too neat. Too still.I sat on the edge of her bed, the pink blanket tucked perfectly where she’d left it, the dolls lined up in a row like quiet sentries. The air smelled faintly of her lavender lotion and crayons, as if her laughter might echo out of the walls if I just listened hard enough.But there was no laughter. Just silence. A silence that pressed into me until my chest felt tight, my throat raw.I reached for the little stuffed rabbit she always carried to sleep, smoothing my hand over its frayed ear. My fingers trembled. How long had it been since she curled up in this bed, whispering goodnight with her small, drowsy voice? Days? Weeks? Time blurred when every moment without her felt like an eternity.I missed her.I missed her so much it hollowed me out.I pressed the rabbit to my chest, rocking slightly. “Lila,” I whispered, like the name might pull her back to me.But the room stayed empty.And with the emptiness came the thoughts I couldn’t si
Amelia’s POVThe quiet stretched too long between us, sharp enough to cut. Maxwell sat at his desk, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on nothing, as if he blinked the world might collapse. I hated that silence—it wasn’t the calm kind, it was the kind that built walls between us, brick by brick, while I stood on the other side begging for a door.“Maxwell,” I said softly, but my voice sounded too fragile in the heavy air.His jaw flexed, a flicker of movement, but no words came.I stepped closer, refusing to be shut out again. “You can’t keep doing this. Shutting me out. Pretending I don’t notice when you break in pieces right in front of me.”He turned then, slowly, his eyes shadowed, tired. “I’m trying to fix it,” he said, but the words were flat, worn down like they’d been scraped from him.“Fix it?” My laugh was sharp, not out of humor but disbelief. “Maxwell, we are not broken. You don’t glue us back together in silence and hope I don’t see the cracks. I need to know what you’re thinkin