Chapter 22
Benedict
Dinner feels like a test in a way it never has before.
Joseph’s house is warm, candlelight reflecting off crystal and polished wood, but the atmosphere is sharp enough to cut glass.
Maddie sits to my right, shoulders square, posture perfect in a way that tells me she’s fighting nerves.
She looks beautiful—too beautiful for this table—but every time she smiles politely at one of Ann’s backhanded remarks, I want to overturn the damn China.
Ann starts early, before the soup is even set down. “Madeline, you must have quite the appetite these days.” Her eyes flick to Maddie’s stomach, where the bump is just beginning to show beneath the silk. “Growing families always do that to a woman.”
Maddie’s hand flinches on her lap, then stills. “The baby’s healthy,” she says steadily. “So, yes, I am too—all the time.” It’s a joke that gets the flicker of a smile from Caroline, but Ann ignores it and Joseph ignores my wife entirely.
Which may be a blessing as much as it’s infuriating.
Despite their polite welcome, it’s clear that Joseph and Ann feel a certain way about my new wife.
The desire to defend her, to tell them off, is bottled up in my chest. They loved Georgiana, I remind myself.
They’re still grieving; this is as much a surprise to them as it was to me, this little wife. They’ll come to love Maddie.
It’s impossible not to.
At least, that’s how I try to reassure myself.
Ann tips her head, smiling like a cat with cream. “How fortunate. Some might say it’s… impeccable timing.”
Joseph chuckles. “Yes, Ben. How long had you two even known each other before tying the knot? Six weeks? Eight?”
“Two months,” I say flatly, not bothering to mention that I’d only met Madeline previously under the circumstances of understanding that she’d be my son’s fiancée, not my future wife.
“Remarkable,” Ann replies, lifting her wineglass. “Georgiana waited two years before you made it official. And she was your own age.”
The fork bites into my palm where I’m gripping it too tightly. Maddie doesn’t flinch, but her cheeks flame. “We were young,” I murmur, words meant for her. “And there were changes being made to the business then; Georgiana understood and wasn’t in a rush.”
Ann’s sharp eyes tick back and forth between us. She looks scandalized that I’ve even mentioned Georgiana’s name to Maddie, let alone explain our relationship.
But what Ann doesn’t know is that Madeline has been more understanding of that—of the fact that I’ve loved someone deeply before her, lost someone before her—than I ever could have hoped.
Joseph leans forward, elbows on the table in a way that would get any junior associate thrown out of his office. “And here you are, bringing a young bride home to fill your halls. Quite the accomplishment.”
“Joseph,” Caroline cuts in smoothly, her tone warning.
He just laughs again. “I mean no harm. It’s just… refreshing. Though one might wonder whether our Benedict is looking for a wife, or just a way to feel young again.”
Maddie stirs her soup once, twice, then lowers her spoon. She doesn’t take a sip.
I want to reach for her hand. Instead, I breathe slow, steady, willing myself to hold it together.
The meal moves on, but the comments don’t stop. Sienna, seated across from Maddie, watches with a mixture of curiosity and smugness, as though cataloguing every slight. Leo is completely uninterested in any of it, though his expression is guarded; Caroline looks ready to go to battle, if need be.
Joseph asks Maddie if she’s adjusting to “real money” after her “quaint ranch upbringing.” Ann makes an elaborate show of complimenting the dress, then notes that “it must be a relief not to worry about expenses anymore.”
Maddie handles it with poise, and with real responses—not backhanded compliments. “There’s not much need for silk dresses on the ranch, though you’d be surprised how much a good flannel and a pair of jeans can cost.”
My jaw feels tight with the urge to defend not just Madeline, but her family, surprisingly. I’m tempted to mention that Crown & Range made close to 4.5 billion the prior year, but talking numbers at dinner would be tactless, and Joseph and Ann aren’t looking to change their mind about her.
And then the worst:
“My dear,” Ann says sweetly as the main course arrives, “you do know that Benedict is older than Joseph and I were when Sienna was born? You’re closer to her age than to his. Doesn’t that ever… concern you?”
Sienna smirks. Joseph hides another chuckle behind his napkin.
Maddie smiles faintly, lips trembling at the edges. “I’m not concerned,” she says softly.
But I am.
The knife clatters onto my plate. “Enough.”
The table stills. My voice echoes louder than intended, filling the vaulted dining room. Ann blinks, surprised. Joseph frowns.
I lean forward, eyes sharp on Ann. “You’ve made your point, repeatedly. But let me make mine clear. Madeline is my wife. My choice. Not a transaction. Not a mistake. She is the woman I love, and I won’t sit here while you degrade her.”
The silence is absolute. Caroline exhales sharply, muttering, “Finally.”
Ann recovers first, setting her wineglass down with a deliberate clink. “Love, Ben? You used that word before—with Georgiana. We all remember how that ended.”
Maddie stiffens beside me.
“Ann,” Caroline snaps, her tone like a whip. “Don’t you dare.”
Ann’s gaze narrows. “People still whisper, you know. About the way Georgiana died. How convenient it was, her slipping away when she did. And how quickly you seemed to move on.”
My chest burns. “You watch your mouth.”
Joseph raises a hand, trying for diplomacy. “Ann—”
“No,” Caroline interrupts, eyes blazing. “I won’t let you slander him in his own presence. Georgiana was sick. She made her choices. And my brother spent years drowning in guilt for not stopping her. You don’t get to twist that into gossip over some shitty duck breast and Pinot Noir.”
Ann flushes, but her chin lifts stubbornly.
The rest of dinner is a blur of brittle conversation and clinking silverware. Maddie barely touches her plate. She smiles when spoken to, but her eyes are distant, dark with hurt.
We leave early, the excuse polite but unnecessary. Everyone knows why.
The drive home is quiet. Caroline murmurs something to Leo, then settles back with her arms folded tight. Maddie stares out the window, her reflection pale in the glass, having chosen to sit in back—in the shadows.
I glance into the rearview mirror and my gut twists. She’s teary-eyed, lashes wet, but silent. Leo, beside her, has slipped his hand into hers. He doesn’t look at me, just squeezes her fingers like a promise.
The sight tears me open. My wife, comforted by a sixteen-year-old boy because I let my so-called friends treat her like dirt.
I grip the wheel harder, jaw aching.
When we get home, I help Maddie out and she heads straight inside, a spring misting of rain starting in the dark. Caroline nudges Leo off toward their car, then she moves close, a comforting hand on my arm.
“You don’t deserve that, Ben. Not after everything you went through. Georgiana would be livid.”
I clench my teeth, nod. “I’m just happy you didn’t throw a drink in Ann’s face.”
A smirk curves my sister’s lips. “Oh, you mean the way I did when she called Leo a bastard at the Christmas gala?”
The memory is enough to make me smile, but it doesn’t bring happiness, only bitterness. My gut sinks like a stone at the realization that I’ve brought Maddie into a life of gossip and ghosts.
“There aren’t many people I call friends, but I think it’s safe to say Joseph and Ann won’t get any more responses to dinner invitations.”
Caroline nods curtly, car keys jingling in her fist. “Good. Remember what’s important, Ben. It isn’t those assholes, that’s for sure.”
She walks off with her head held high, and despite how claustrophobic the last few months have felt, I’m reminded that other people suffer too. That they make it through.
Maddie and I can get through this.
Screw everyone else.
She’s all that matters.
When I stride inside, Hugh is waiting, Maddie behind him in the entryway. His eyes are serious, but I’m locked onto my wife, and when he says “Mr. Bronson, I need to talk to you,” I tell him to schedule time tomorrow. Brush past him like he doesn’t exist.
Maddie lingers, one hand brushing the curve of her belly, the other hanging limp at her side.
I should apologize. I should say something to fix the look on her face. But all I can think is how badly I’ve failed her—again.
I clear my throat, voice rough. “I ruined tonight.”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “You didn’t ruin anything. They did.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you. I thought… I thought if they saw us together, if they saw how serious I was, they’d respect it. Respect you. Instead—”
“Instead, they made me feel like a mistake,” she whispers.
The words gut me. I take a step closer, but she doesn’t move.
“Do you mean it?” she asks suddenly, her voice small but cutting straight through me. “What you said at dinner. That you love me.”
The room tilts. For a man like me, words are weapons, tools, contracts. I don’t throw them around carelessly. I hadn’t planned to say it at all. And now—
“Maddie…”
“Please,” she says, eyes shining. “I need to know.”
I don’t answer with words. I can’t. Instead, I cup her face, tilting it toward me, and kiss her.
It isn’t the hunger that’s carried us through every stolen moment before. It’s slower, deeper, threaded with something heavier than lust. Her lips tremble under mine, then steady, pressing back with equal need.
When I pull her closer, her body fits perfectly against mine, soft where I’m hard, warm where I’m cold. The curve of her stomach presses between us, and my hand finds it instinctively, protective and claiming all at once.
We move together through the house, barely breaking the kiss, until we find ourselves in my bedroom. Our bedroom. Having her so close has been a comfort and a temptation, every goddamn night.
Clothes scatter without thought, but the urgency isn’t in stripping away barriers—it’s in holding on.
Maddie’s body is changing, and it’s obvious that she’s self-conscious about it. She covers her breasts with crossed arms, seems to want to shield her belly, but I smooth her hands away and follow her curves with mine.
“I made you a promise earlier,” I murmur before stealing her mouth once more. It’s hot, wet, and my hand delves between her legs, seeking the heat there. She’s more than ready for me as I tug her toward the bed.
When I finally sink into her, it isn’t about release. It’s about grounding. About reminding her—and myself—that this is real. That despite the gossip, despite the whispers, despite Derrick and our families and everything stacked against us—we chose this.
She clings to me as I thrust into her, eyes locked on mine, and for the first time since Georgiana’s death, I let someone see me stripped bare. No defenses. No legacy. No empire.
Just a man, and the woman he can’t imagine losing.
When she cries out, it isn’t loud—it’s quiet, shuddering, like a prayer. And when I follow, my forehead pressed to hers, it feels less like sin and more like salvation.
Afterward, tangled in sheets and silence, Maddie’s fingers trace lazy circles over my chest. Her eyes are heavy, but her voice is clear when she whispers, “I believe you.”
I kiss her hair, my throat too tight for words.
Because for once, the truth is simple.
I love her.
And no one—not Joseph, not Ann, not the past—will take that from me.