Chapter 33
Lexie found her bag and packed it with the essays she’d graded over the weekend. It was Sunday night, and the thought of returning to her normal life should have brought her relief. Instead, a hollow ache settled in her chest.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Lexie fumbled for her car keys.
They weren’t in the pocket where she normally kept them, and the tears blurring her vision didn’t help.
Her thoughts spiraled in a chaotic loop.
He doesn’t love me. She told herself bitterly, clinging to the idea because it was easier than acknowledging the deeper truth—that her fears were taking control again.
Hadn’t she learned this lesson a year ago?
She’d left him because she’d been terrified he would become just as controlling as her father had been with her mother.
With money comes power. Her father had dominated every aspect of her mother’s life—her choices, her dreams, even the smallest decisions.
Lexie had vowed never to let that happen to her.
But was Max really like her father? She bit her lip as she searched the next pocket.
No, he wasn’t. She knew that, deep down.
Max didn’t try to smother her light—he just didn’t understand how important it was for her to shine in her own way.
He wanted to protect her from the dangers of the world, to keep her safe in a way her father never bothered to, but his methods were… overwhelming.
He doesn’t see me, she thought, a fresh wave of tears burning her eyes. Not the real me. Max wanted her to quit her job, to leave behind the kids who depended on her, the career that gave her purpose. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. But could she live without Max?
Sighing, because she didn’t have any answers, her fingers closed around her keys, and she straightened, slinging her bag over her shoulder. After one last swipe at her tears, she squared her shoulders, held her head high, and walked out of the house.
It wasn’t until she stepped outside that she realized how little she’d left these walls over the past few days.
Everything she’d wanted—needed—had been here.
But it wasn’t the luxurious house, the closet filled with expensive clothes, or even the gourmet meals.
It was Max. Max had been her anchor, her everything.
Lexie half-expected one of the guards stationed near the doors or the garage to stop her, but they didn’t. She forced a polite smile at them. “Would you give this to Max when he finishes with his current meeting?”
The guard accepted the note with a wary nod, his eyes sharp and assessing as both of them watched her walk down the brick pathway.
Her beat-up old hatchback was tucked off to the side of the sprawling garage, as if it didn’t deserve to share space with the sleek, gleaming vehicles lined up inside.
The sight stung, but she brushed it off.
Her car was sturdy and reliable, even if it wasn’t much to look at.
Driving away was harder than she’d expected, harder than the last time she’d left Max.
A year ago, she’d walked away to escape his criminal world.
Now, she was leaving because Max didn’t understand her world.
He wanted to shield her from everything bad, but that wasn’t who she was.
She needed to make a difference—one kid, one life, at a time.
When she reached her tiny house, she pushed through the doorway and froze. Something felt… off.
The air was still.
Too still.
Her thoughts immediately went to the cameras Enzo had hidden. Had Max really removed them all? Or had he installed new ones? The memory of Max’s teasing admission—his enjoyment of watching her on those cameras—made her stomach twist.
“Nope,” she whispered aloud, shaking her head.
She couldn’t stay here. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Her home had been invaded, violated, and she would never feel truly safe here again.
Grabbing a duffel bag, she stuffed it with essentials before heading out the door.
A hotel would be better. Neutral ground. Safe.
Still, even in the sterile hotel room, sleep didn’t come easily. She tossed and turned, wondering if she should have stayed with Max—even if it meant sleeping in a different room.
She snorted aloud as she sat up in bed. As if Max would ever allow that. Not likely.