The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride
Rebecca’s cruel taunts and now Maxwell’s scorn had simply added another layer to wounds I thought had long scarred over.
But as much as I tried to push him from my mind, I couldn’t. His limp, the bitterness in his eyes, the scar I’d glimpsed on our wedding day—it all lingered, begging to be understood.
The next morning, I woke early, determined to maintain some sense of dignity. Knock softly. Be polite, Amelia. Don’t intrude. That was my mantra as I rapped on Maxwell’s door before stepping inside.
What I saw stopped me cold.
Maxwell stood by the window, shirtless, the morning light casting a golden glow over his sculpted frame. But it wasn’t his physique that caught my attention—it was the l
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