Chapter 18 Benedict
Benedict
Aweek has crawled by since the dinner at Bronson Hall, but the words haven’t left me.
Derrick’s voice still claws at the edges of my skull, dragging Georgiana’s name through blood. I’ve gone over every second of that night, every look Maddie gave me afterward—hurt, hesitant, reaching—and still I did what I always do. I shut her out.
It should have ended there. It should have stayed that way.
Derrick’s been staying at the Hall, in his usual suite. The staff, though I haven’t asked them to keep an eye on him, are alert; they can sense the tension, I’m sure, or hear the angry phone calls he’s made to our family lawyer.
I’ve gone through my life dead-set on making decisions without anyone’s approval. Until Georgiana—she was the only one I asked, in the privacy of our rooms, what she thought. Anything from the color of my socks to business moves. And now, without her, I’m back to my old habits; telling, not asking.
There’s a pit of guilt in the center of my chest, because I know I should’ve spoken to Madeline about changing the inheritance paperwork. About making our child my heir.
I just didn’t want her to know just how disappointed I was with Derrick—not the constant running away, but the fact that I haven’t been able to repair the rift between us. So, slowly, and silently, I decided to push him out. To punish him.
And now she has me questioning all that.
Another old habit I haven’t managed to shake, owning up to my idiot decisions, and apologizing.
Because now I’m standing in the foyer of the lodge, watching Stella wrap her arms around Maddie, both of them shrieking with laughter like teenagers. It’s easier than asking her forgiveness.
Maddie’s face is incandescent, lit with something I haven’t seen since the wedding. Pure, unguarded joy.
Her hands press to Stella’s shoulders, eyes glassy with tears. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much!”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Stella squeezes her sister tighter, her smile wicked. “Though honestly? You should’ve guessed Benedict was behind this. He’s got that smug look.”
Both of them turn to me. I keep my expression neutral, hands clasped behind my back, but Maddie’s gaze softens as if she sees past the armor.
“Ben,” she breathes. There’s a thousand words in the way she says my name, all gratitude and astonishment.
I incline my head. “You needed her. So, I brought her.”
Her eyes shimmer, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she throws herself back into Stella’s chatter, tugging her toward the staircase, firing questions about her flight, her life, everything.
As they start up the steps, I see the moment Maddie makes her own decision. She takes a deep breath, says: “I have something to tell you. Something good.”
Something good.
The words are so genuine that there’s no question she means it.
Maddie wants this, wants a child with me, despite the botched fiasco of her marriage and our relationship. In this moment, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when it happens—when she tells Stella, tearing up again, excited, and nervous at the thought of being a mother.
I watch them disappear up to the second floor, Stella’s laugh echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
And for the first time in a long time, the house feels truly alive.
Later, when Stella has gone to settle into the suite I had prepared, Maddie finds me in the quiet of my office. The fire burns low, whiskey glints in crystal decanters, and the misty rain outside thickens against the glass.
She comes to me without hesitation, her steps soft but sure. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“I know.”
Her voice wavers, her hand lifting to touch my sleeve. “Thank you.”
Before I can respond, she leans up on her toes and presses her lips to mine. Not the kind of kiss we’ve shared in the dark, all heat, and teeth, but something gentler. A sweet brush of trust.
It startles me more than any passion could.
When she pulls back, her smile is soft. “You never actually said you were sorry. But this… it feels like it.”
I don’t answer. My throat won’t let me.
We stand in silence, staring out across the forest toward the mountains. The spring weather has turned temperamental, put a damper on the evening, but it’s not sad; just quiet. Restive.
Eventually, I manage to ask, “Was she happy? About the news?”
Maddie’s hand drifts to her belly, and every muscle in me strains to do the same—to cover her hand with mine, to keep safe what we’ve created. Instead, I only sway toward her intoxicating scent, wishing I could go to bed with her.
Not out of lust, but out of… love.
“Mmm, she was. Not as surprised as I hoped she’d be,” Maddie says wryly, her eyes cutting up to meet mine before her cheeks turn pink.
I remember our conversation a week ago, how she confessed to feeling on edge and aroused. How ready I was to give her whatever she needed, and more.
Is that door still open?
Would she let me, if I reached out right now and carried her to the desk, knelt between her legs, and worshipped her right here?
She lingers a moment longer, then slips away to rejoin Stella, leaving me with the memory of her lips on mine and the sudden, brutal realization that I’m falling. Not for her body, not for the escape she gives me in bed—but for her.
And that is far more dangerous.
The next morning, business insists on making itself known.
Regina arrives precisely on time, as she always does, her heels sharp against the stone floors of the meeting suite. She is efficient, poised, Milan in human form—dark hair in a sleek knot, tailored navy suit, perfume like crisp linen and spice.
“Benedict,” she says with a quick smile, shaking my hand. “Aspen suits you. Though I think Milan misses you.”
“Then Milan should run more smoothly.”
Her laugh is soft, unoffended. She lays a folder on the table, slides into the chair opposite me.
We go through numbers, projections, staff reports.
She’s good—sharp enough to notice the cracks before they widen.
Milan is one of my favorite locations, and as the business talk pushes more recent anxieties to the back of my mind, I think that I’ll have to go back soon.
Halfway through, she glances up, a spark in her eyes. “I heard something interesting. Your wife solved the scheduling debacle, didn’t she?”
I arch a brow. “News travels fast.”
“Hospitality is a small world.” Regina shrugs elegantly. “And your property managers, we all talk. She streamlined the event calendar in a week. My managers are still talking about it. They were… impressed.”
I don’t answer immediately. Images flash in my mind—Maddie bent over ledgers, determination carved into her brow, her optimism carrying her through when others faltered.
“She has a knack for it,” I admit. “She was the event coordinator for Crown I never thought a threat would come from inside my family.
There’s a light knock on the door, and Caroline appears. She slips into the room and closes the door behind her, shutting out the laughter.
“To what do I owe this visit?” I ask solemnly, leaning back.
She snorts. Caroline knows she’s always welcome here, but she prefers the cottage our father built for guests decades ago. She and Leo live quietly there as she manages the condos that Bronson Hall also owns, a lesser side of the business that I never have to think about thanks to my sister.
“I wanted to check on you.”
My eyes narrow. “I’m fine, little sister. Don’t worry; this isn’t anything I can’t handle.”
Caroline’s lips thin. She sits across from me, and that’s when I know this is serious. “I know what you can handle, Benedict. When Georgiana passed away, you handled the rumors. You handled the funeral and your grief.”
There’s a pause, a lack of elaboration: You handled Derrick’s grief.
She doesn’t say it because it’s not true. I know where my faults are, and not tending to my son properly after his mother’s death is the largest one.
“This is different.”
Caroline nods. “I know. You’ll be a father again. You’ll be tied to a woman you didn’t intend to marry—”
I grip the edge of my desk, flashing a dangerous look at Caroline, who’s surprised by it.
“I don’t regret it,” I say evenly. “I don’t deserve it, but I don’t regret it.”
The truth is, being tied to Maddie with a child sends a shock of elation through me at the very thought.
Caroline nods slowly. “Okay. I’m here, Benedict, if you need anything.
You were there for me with Leo.” She cocks her head, the ghost of a smile appearing at the memory of her son.
I’m happy that all these years later, it isn’t overshadowed by how cruel our father was about Caroline coming home knocked up and without the father.
To this day, I still don’t know who he is. I never bothered asking.
A truce settles between us. There’s a fair chance I’ll still navigate this alone, and Caroline knows it. But she’s there if I need her.
She stands, gives me a sweet smile reserved only for a handful of people in our lives, and makes her way to the door.
Pausing, she throws over her shoulder: “You did bring her sister here, Ben, for support. Don’t deny yourself the same.”
Caroline rounds the corner and is gone, back to the cottage and her quiet life with her son.
I envy her—sometimes I wish that after Georgiana passed, we’d done the same.
I could have offloaded Bronson Hall to a massive property management conglomerate.
Made billions, tucked myself away here—or somewhere else, somewhere hidden in the woods with only myself and Derrick to worry about.
Instead, I focused on solidifying my empire. Hoping someday my son would come back to me.
There’s no way I could’ve predicted this—a young, brilliant, pregnant wife. The son, a wolf at my door.
I’ll deal with Derrick first.
And only then, when the shadows are gone, will I let Maddie step fully into the light.