Chapter 35
Maddie
Six months.
The calendar says it’s been half a year, but my body doesn’t need a reminder. The baby makes her presence known every time I shift too quickly, every time I try to bend, every time I wake in the middle of the night to the fluttering kicks that make my ribs ache and my heart swell.
Back in Colorado, the air feels sharper somehow, clearer than the humid city air of Philadelphia. When we step off the plane into the shadow of the mountains, I inhale deeply, and it feels like my lungs are drinking clean water. Home.
The lodge waits for us like a sentinel against the forest. Hugh meets us in the grand entryway, phone in hand, brow furrowed as usual.
“Welcome back,” he says, eyes warm when they meet mine.
“You told him about the pickle juice,” I accuse, but hug the man anyway. He pats my back with his free hand, probably unsure how to handle his boss’ wife showing affection.
“I did. Sorry. But it was necessary—I’ve missed you as much as he did.” The confession makes my throat go thick with emotion, and I laugh when I pull away, eyes already watery.
“Damn hormones.”
Hugh grins, then clears his throat, hesitating. His eyes flick to Ben.
“What is it?” Ben asks, voice calm, deep.
“Derrick left,” Hugh admits. “He packed his things the morning you went to Philadelphia. Took the Range Rover and some cash. I’ve tried reaching him—he isn’t answering.”
I stiffen. Guilt pricks at my chest even though I know I shouldn’t feel it. This was inevitable.
But Ben just exhales, steady and unshaken. “Then let him go.”
The words land like a stone dropped into still water. Hugh blinks. I blink.
Ben shrugs off his coat, unbothered. “He’ll do what he wants, as he always has. He’s an adult. If he needs me, he’ll know where to find me.”
Hugh hesitates, then nods.
I study Ben’s profile as he moves toward the stairs, calm and unhurried, and something inside me loosens. I was braced for a storm, for rage or grief, but he doesn’t break. He’s chosen us, and he’s not looking back.
Still, I know what it’s like to be on Derrick’s side of things, though we’ve had vastly different experiences. I take my time getting upstairs and find Ben glancing over some paperwork left on his desk.
“Hey.” Leaning in the doorway, I drink him in—heart thudding with love and sadness all at once. “Can we talk? About Derrick?”
Benedict straightens and comes to me, putting his own back to the door frame so we’re facing one another, knees bumping.
“I’m not going after him, Maddie.”
“I’m not asking for that Ben… but just… think about things, please. I know you want to do what’s right for me and the baby, to set us up for a safe life, but I can’t imagine… I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you and Derrick. He’s still your son. And the way you cut him out of your will…”
Ben sighs, arms crossed. “He’s made it very clear, Maddie, that he wants nothing to do with the family business. Why should he profit from it?”
I shrug. “Because you want him safe as much as you want me safe. As much as you want her safe.” I take his hand and press it to my belly.
“Like I said, I can’t imagine what you two have been through.
But Derrick was just… reacting. And he has nothing, now.
Nothing to bargain with. He’s probably scared Ben and feels abandoned. Just think about it?”
His beautiful eyes are distant, staring at nothing over my shoulder. He nods, but doesn’t speak, his fingers still grazing my belly.
It’s enough.
Exhausted and craving our bed, I kiss his cheek and head down the hallway.
Later that afternoon, once the bags are unpacked and I’ve curled myself into the wide armchair by the window, there’s a knock at the door.
Caroline sweeps in, every inch the formidable Bronson, even in jeans and a t-shirt with holes at the hem. Her hair shines in the late light, her eyes bright with some secret mission.
“Madeline,” she declares, hands on her hips. “We’re throwing you a baby shower.”
I blink. “We—what?”
“A shower. A party. A celebration. Don’t look so alarmed, it isn’t optional. Also, welcome back.”
I laugh, startled. “Caroline—”
“No arguments. It’s already decided.” She crosses the room and perches on the ottoman across from me, elegant and commanding. Then, softer, she lowers her voice. “I approve, you know.”
I swallow. “Approve?”
“Of Ben making things right. Of you.” She studies me, sharp gaze taking me in like a jeweler inspecting a rare gem. Then she sighs. “You’ll forgive my idiot brother for being a fool, won’t you?”
Emotion clogs my throat. I nod. “He’s not a fool. Not anymore. We’re… stronger than ever.”
Caroline’s mouth curves. She reaches out, squeezing my hand. “Good. Then let me take care of the rest.”
Three days later, I realize that when Caroline says she’ll take care of something, she means she will orchestrate it with the precision of a general launching a campaign. Honestly, if Ben hadn’t offered me the job as head of events for Bronson Hall, he should’ve given it to her years ago.
The baby shower is at the nature preserve, under a pavilion so grand it looks like it was grown from the forest itself.
Beams of timber arch high overhead, strung with soft lanterns that sway gently in the breeze.
The mountains rise around us like a painted backdrop, and the air smells of pine and sun-warmed earth.
Tables are laid with linen in earthy tones, vases of wildflowers cut fresh from the meadows. Cushioned chairs, silk throws for warmth, platters of food that manage to be both rustic and luxurious. It’s understated perfection—exactly what I didn’t know I wanted.
“You did this?” I murmur to Caroline as I take it all in.
“Of course I did,” she says briskly, though her eyes soften. “Nothing less for my niece.”
My heart stutters. Our daughter has a place here. Already claimed, already loved.
Guests trickle in—some of Ben’s old friends from Aspen, a few neighbors, and staff who’ve become family.
Stella was one of the first people here unsurprisingly and she draws attention with her bright laugh and endless joy as she shakes hands with complete strangers and makes small talk.
My mother arrives last, dressed impeccably, her smile brittle.
Gwen Clarke’s eyes sweep over the pavilion, assessing, judging.
“Very… rustic,” she says finally, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. From her, it isn’t a compliment.
I brace myself. But Caroline steps forward smoothly, a queen defending her court.
“Rustic? Hardly. This is elegance in its purest form. And it’s all for Maddie. She’s extraordinary, you know. Brilliant at what she does. Everyone is already buzzing about the Sweden event she’s going to lead.”
I freeze. My heart pounds. The event in Sweden. The one I hadn’t actually agreed to head.
Gwen arches a brow. “Oh? I hadn’t realized she’d accepted.
” I recognize the careful set of her face.
The truth is, Mom didn’t even know about Ben’s offer or the event in Sweden—I didn’t tell her, and Stella certainly didn’t.
But it won’t look good if she admits that her eldest daughter doesn’t update her on major life events.
Caroline beams, undeterred. “Of course she has. She’ll be spectacular. She always is.”
The certainty in her voice slices through me. In this moment, with my mother’s skepticism heavy in the air, I realize something startling: Caroline’s right.
I want it. I want to take the reins, to lead, to prove myself not just as someone’s wife or someone’s daughter, but as me. Maddie Bronson.
I straighten my shoulders. “Yes,” I say clearly. “I’m taking it. I want it.”
Gwen’s lips press thin, but she says nothing. The conversation is over.
Caroline squeezes my hand under the table, pride shining in her eyes. Now I’ll just have to tell Ben.
The shower is a blur of laughter and small gifts—blankets, books, impossibly tiny shoes. My cheeks ache from smiling, my heart from swelling. I never thought I’d feel celebrated like this, surrounded by people who actually want me here.
And then the air shifts.
Ben appears at the edge of the pavilion.
A ripple of surprise moves through the crowd—men don’t usually come to baby showers. But when Ben strides across the pavilion, no one dares stop him. He’s all dark flannel and quiet power, the kind of presence that makes people instinctively move out of his way.
He comes straight to me, bends, and presses a kiss to my forehead. The murmur around us grows, but he doesn’t seem to notice. My mother’s eyes cut like glass, taking it in, the realization that this might actually be more than a business transaction. Her lips purse in displeasure.
“I have something for you,” Ben says, his voice low but carrying.
I blink. “Ben—”
He nods to Hugh, who steps forward with a leather folder. Ben opens it, holding it where I can see.
“It’s yours,” he says simply. “Eighty acres in Montana. The stretch of land you’ve always loved, near the river bend—the one you told me about. Where you wanted to build a house. I’ve worked with the environmental trust to make it permanent. A sanctuary. No developers will ever touch it.”
The words hit me like a tidal wave. My throat closes, tears springing hot to my eyes.
“But—”
He goes on, steady, sure. “There’s a cabin. Small, it has all the necessities. For you. For us. For when you need to breathe, or when our daughter needs to run wild. It’s yours whenever you want it. Forever.”
The pavilion goes silent, every eye on us. But all I see is him.
Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. My voice shakes. “Ben…”
He cups my face, thumb brushing away the wetness. “I told you. I’d do anything for you. For her.” His other hand rests over my stomach, firm and tender. “Anything.”
I can’t speak. I can only throw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his chest as sobs shake me. The pavilion erupts in applause, laughter, warmth.
But I hardly hear it.
All I feel is the man who found me, who fought for me, who has given me not just a future, but a home I never thought I’d have. When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is a gorgeous tree twisting up against the blue sky—and I know right then that it’s her.
Juniper.