Chapter 19 Maddie
Maddie
The suite is too quiet when I return from breakfast with Stella.
She’s still down in the spa, insisting I take time to rest, but I like coming back to our space. It feels like a little pocket of home carved out of Bronson Hall’s polished marble and glass. My scarf draped over the armchair. The soft blanket I’ve been curling up under at night.
Even though Ben is still at the lodge, having sent us off to Bronson Hall for a few days to relax, it feels like he’s still here—in the little details.
His jacket is hanging up in the closet. A pair of hiking boots, just in case. A smile ghosts across my lips at the memory of asking him why they were there.
Stepping out of the elevator, exhaustion hits me in a wave. It’s been lapping at me all week, but now it pools, tugging me down. Stella was right; I could use a nap.
But the moment I push open the suite door, something prickles in the air.
The curtains stir faintly even though the windows are closed. The closet door is ajar, a sliver of silk peeking out.
And there’s movement.
A man stands by the dresser, rifling through a stack of folded sweaters. He’s lean, dressed in black, the kind of forgettable face you only notice because it’s in your room where it shouldn’t be.
“Hey!” My voice cracks the silence.
He freezes, glances at me once, then bolts.
Adrenaline surges hot in my veins. “Stop!” I chase him into the hall, slippers slapping the tile, heart hammering. He doesn’t look back, just barrels down the corridor and disappears around a corner.
I skid to a stop—straight into someone else.
Strong hands grip my arms. The scent of cologne, too familiar, coils around me.
Derrick.
“Whoa,” he drawls, steadying me. His smirk is sharp as a knife. “What’s the hurry, Maddie? You should be careful in your… condition.” He still can’t say it without a sneer, and a wisp of guilt curls inside me.
I was supposed to be his bride.
Instead, I’m carrying his father’s child.
I yank back, pulse racing. “Someone was in my room.”
“Ah.” He leans lazily against the wall, as if this is all amusing. “That would be mine.”
“…Yours?”
“My guy.” His smile widens when my stomach drops. “He works for me. Don’t worry, I’ve got several people keeping an eye on you. Can’t let Dad’s shiny new wife run around unchecked, can we?”
Cold creeps up my spine. “Why?”
“Because.” Derrick leans closer, voice low and poisonous. “You took what was mine. You think I’m just going to let that go?”
I shake my head, trying to process. “What are you talking about? Why would you have people watching me, Derrick?”
“You heard Dad, the night we all had dinner. That fake happy family facade he wanted to put on here. He’s leaving everything to you and this—” he gestures at my stomach, “—situation. Was this your plan, Maddie? Get a piece of the pie by getting knocked up?”
“You must be kidding,” I deadpan, hand going instinctively to my stomach as I back up. “None of this was my plan, Derrick, and if you had showed up at our wedding you wouldn’t be in this situation! Besides,” I add with a hiss, “I didn’t know he was going to rewrite the inheritance.”
Derrick studies me, eyes narrowed. “He didn’t tell you? Figures. He’s always been good at playing king without telling his subjects the rules.”
Heat rises in my chest, not just anger but suspicion. Because some part of me has latched onto what Derrick says. Has thought it myself, in private moments.
Those first weeks of marriage with Ben I finally felt seen. But naming our child the heir without even asking?
Derrick sees it. Of course he does. He feeds on cracks.
“Upset?” he taunts. “You should be. You’re nothing more than a vessel to him. A means to erase me and get a second chance at fatherhood.”
“That’s not true,” I snap.
“Isn’t it?” He tilts his head, eyes glittering. “What happens when the baby isn’t his, Maddie?”
The words slam into me. “What? Of course it’s his—”
He grins, sharklike. “Interesting. That got a rise out of you. Maybe I should start whispering that around town. That the golden heir isn’t a Bronson after all. Imagine what that would do to Daddy’s pride.”
Rage and terror twist inside me. “Don’t you dare.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” His voice sharpens, all pretense gone. “You and your child ruined me. So, I’ll ruin you both. And I’ll enjoy every second.”
He straightens, smooths his shirt like nothing happened, and strolls away down the corridor.
I stand frozen, trembling, the silence after him louder than the confrontation.
Back in the suite, I shut the door and lock it, leaning hard against the wood. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely pull out my phone.
Ben doesn’t know Derrick has people inside this resort. What if they’re at the lodge, too, in my rooms there while I’m away?
Ben definitely doesn’t know how far his son is willing to go.
I think about calling him. For one wild second, I almost do.
But the memory of his voice at dinner—“You don’t know anything about Georgiana”—stops me.
He won’t hear me. Not right now. There’s been a distance between us since that night, an arms-length approach despite the kindness of him bringing Stella here.
The door beeps, clicks, and opens.
My sister steps in, already frowning. “Everything okay?” she asks, eyes scanning the room, picking up on my panic.
“No,” I huff, “not really. I just… I just saw Derrick.”
Her brows pull together even closer. “Okay? Was he mean to you, about the whole inheritance thing?”
I shake my head, not even sure where to start. Stella sees my eyes watering with upset tears and takes my arm. “Oh, sis. Come on, sit down, and tell me what happened.”
She leads me out to the balcony, and it’s like a layover with the past: the two of us here right after I married Ben. Stella joking that I might as well take advantage of the wedding night.
She disappears into the room, coming back with a sparkling water. Oddly, it settles my stomach now; I’ve never liked it, but I guess the baby does.
I take a slow, shaky sip, and then try to gather my thoughts and explain. “He’s watching me.”
“Derrick? What do you mean ‘watching’ you?” Stella’s head snaps around, staring through the glass doors into the suite as if expecting to find cameras.
“I don’t really know. I came back and someone was in the room, going through my things, like they were looking for something.”
My sister’s face twists in disbelief. “What? What the hell could they be looking for? You’ve only been here since yesterday.”
“I have no idea. I think he expects to find some kind of dirt on me, to get his inheritance back. Stella, he insinuated that the baby isn’t Ben’s.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t want to detail all the ways you fucked his dad?” Stella smirks at the shocked expression on my face. Sometimes I have to remember that my little sister isn’t so little anymore.
“Oh, my God. No, I did not.” My cheeks heat at the fleeting memories of Ben’s muscled body, the rough feel of his chest hair against my breasts, the obscene sounds that filled the room every time we gave in to temptation.
I shake them off, focusing instead on the present problem.
“Stella, I think he actually thinks the baby might not be Ben’s. Which means he’s digging.”
Locking eyes with my sister, I try to communicate the silent dread that filled me the moment I realized that Derrick would do anything to take me down. Stella’s blue eyes widen as it hits her.
“Jack.” A hand covers her mouth. “Oh, Maddie. Damn. I mean, there’s only one thing to do…”
We both look at my cell, discarded on the outdoor loveseat next to my curled-up lap. I haven’t reached out to him in months—not since the night of my marriage to Benedict Bronson—but if anyone can save me from this disaster, it’s him.
Only if he agrees.
Only if he’s willing to let me call in the favor.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Stella says in a hushed voice, standing and gently moving my disheveled hair out of my face. She disappears into the suite, sliding the glass door shut to give me and my privacy.
My thumb scrolls to the contact, heart pounding with hope that he’ll pick up. It’s 11 a.m. here, which means it’ll be 1 p.m. there.
When he answers, I keep my voice low, steady, even as my heart slams against my ribs.
“We have a problem.”