Maxwell's POV
The morning light slipped through the tall windows as I turned the key to the front door, the quiet creak of the hinges echoing softly through the mansion. It felt good to be home again. The air smelled faintly of lavender and coffee, the way it always did when Rose was up early. I dropped my luggage quietly by the entrance, trying not to make a sound. The sun was just beginning to climb, its golden light spilling across the marble floor, and I could hear faint music drifting from the kitchen.
I followed the sound, and there she was, dancing in her robe, barefoot, completely lost in her own little world. She was humming along to some old tune, swaying lightly, her hair a bit messy and falling over her face. For a moment, I just stood there, watching her. It was one of those simple moments that made everything else fade away, the stress, the travel, the endless meetings.
"Miss me?" I said softly, unable to hide the smile in my voice.
She spun around so quickly that her coffee nearly spilled. "Maxwell!" she cried out in shock, and before I could even blink, she ran straight into my arms. I caught her easily, laughing as she buried her face in my chest. Her warmth hit me like a wave, her scent familiar and comforting.
"I can't believe you're here," she murmured against me, her voice still thick with surprise.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. "I told you I'd be back soon," I said, brushing a stray curl from her face. "Just thought I'd surprise you."
She smiled up at me, eyes sparkling, and I swear I could have stayed right there forever.
"I got you something," I said after a moment, setting my bags down on the counter.
"Something?" she repeated, raising a brow as I started unpacking the gifts one by one.
It was more than "something." I had gone a little overboard, perfumes she loved, a silk scarf I knew she had been eyeing, a pair of earrings shaped like tiny stars, and even a small music box I had found in a street shop that played her favorite tune when you wound it.
"This is a lot, Maxwell," she said, laughing softly. "You didn't have to get me all this."
"I wanted to," I said simply. "You deserve it."
Her smile softened, and she looked up at me with those eyes that always had the power to undo me completely. Then she leaned in and kissed me, a gentle, lingering kiss that felt like coming home.
"Thank you," she whispered against my lips.
I smiled, resting my forehead against hers. "You're welcome."
For a while, I wished I could stay in that moment, just the two of us in our quiet kitchen, wrapped up in sunlight and coffee. But reality always has a way of intruding, and mine came in the form of my watch beeping.
"I have to go to the office," I said reluctantly, glancing down at the time.
Her smile faded slightly. "Already?"
"Just for a few hours," I promised. "Something came up that needs my attention. I'll be back before dinner."
She sighed but nodded. "Fine.That's okay."
I chuckled. "Great."
By the time I got to the office, the calm of the morning had already vanished. The moment I stepped in, I was greeted by a stack of folders on my desk and the familiar voice of my secretary, David.
"Good morning, sir," he said briskly. "Several calls came in about the old court case, the one that dates back to your father's time. The legal team needs your direction on how to proceed."
That case. The one that had been haunting my family's company for decades. It was one of those messy legal battles that started with my grandfather and refused to die, resurfacing every few years with new claims, new threats, and new people looking for a payout.
I sighed and loosened my tie. "Schedule a meeting with Jordan," I said. "Let's get this settled once and for all."
When Jordan arrived, we went straight into the conference room, and he spread out the files across the table.
"Max, I'll be honest," he said, "These threats are serious but not new. Some of them are trying to revive old grievances. We can negotiate quietly or shut it down completely through legal channels. Your choice."
"Do whatever it takes to make it go away," I said, my tone sharper than intended. "I don't have the energy for this."
He nodded, understanding. "I'll handle it."
When the meeting ended, I stayed behind for a while, just staring out the glass wall of my office. The city below moved in its usual rhythm, cars, people, noise but my mind was far away. The weight of responsibility felt heavier that morning, and for a brief moment, I wished I could be anywhere else but there.
A knock at the door pulled me back. David stepped in, holding my phone.
"Sir, your mother has been calling repeatedly," he said quietly. "She asked that you call her back."
I froze for a moment. My mother.
The name alone brought back a flood of memories I had tried hard to bury. Most sons had mothers who were their first love, their comfort, their safe place. Mine was different. Margaret Deverell had always been more concerned about her reflection than her family. I remembered growing up watching her drift through our home like a queen in her own little world, perfectly dressed, perfectly distant.
She never cooked a meal for me heck she never cared if I ate. Never sat down to help me knot a tie for school. She had maids, stylists, and assistants for everything, but never time for me. Even when my father was alive, I never saw any real affection between them. They shared the same house but lived entirely separate lives. She loved wealth and status far more than she loved us.
After my father passed, she moved to her villa upstate, living in luxury with her small army of staff and an ever-changing circle of younger men she called "friends." From what I heard, she spent her days attending parties, showing off new plastic surgeries, and bragging about how she never aged.
I had long accepted that was who she was.
The phone buzzed in my hand again, and I sighed before answering. "Mother."
"Maxwell, darling," came her bright, cheerful voice. "Finally. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me."
"I've been busy," I replied, keeping my tone even. "What's going on?"
"Oh, I was just thinking about you," she said, her voice light and playful. "How was your trip to Asia? . You must be exhausted."
I was honestly caught off guard. My mother asking how I was — that was a rare event.
"I'm fine, Mother. Everything went well," I said simply.
"Oh, good. And how's Rose?" she asked in that same breezy tone. "I hope you're treating her well. You know, most of my friends already have grandchildren who come to visit them every summer. Their houses are always full of laughter. You and Rose have been married long enough, don't you think it's time you started a family? The honeymoon phase cannot last forever, darling. A child would be lovely."
I couldn't help laughing, though it came out more as disbelief than amusement. "Mother, if you're feeling lonely, you should adopt a pet. I hear they're wonderful company."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said quickly. "I am not lonely. I just think it's time you thought about the next stage of life. I want to be a grandmother while I can still fit into my dresses."
I smiled despite myself. "Mother, I have a mountain of work to get through. We can talk about this later."
"Fine, fine," she said with a little sigh. "But promise me you'll think about it."
"I'll call you later," I said, ending the call before she could continue.
For a few seconds, I just sat there, staring at the silent phone. I could not remember the last time she had called to ask about me, much less Rose. Maybe she was truly getting older. Or maybe, as I joked to myself, she was going through an old-age crisis, if such a thing even existed.
Still, her words stuck with me. The idea of having a child had never been something I gave much thought to. Rose and I had talked about it before, we had both agreed that we wanted our lives to stay the way they were. Peaceful, free, uncomplicated. But as I sat there, I found myself picturing it anyway.
What would it be like to have a child? To see Rose holding a tiny baby with her smile, her eyes? To hear little feet running through the house, laughter echoing down the hallways?
The thought unsettled me at first, mostly because it was something I had never allowed myself to imagine. Children always seemed like something other people had, not me. My own childhood had not been filled with warmth or stability, so the idea of bringing someone into the world felt like a responsibility too heavy to risk mishandling.
But Rose was different. She had a gentleness that balanced out my hard edges. She found joy in small thing. Maybe, with her, parenthood would not be the terrifying unknown it seemed.
I leaned back in my chair, smiling slightly at the thought. Maybe not a child, not yet, anyway, but perhaps a pet. Something small to keep her company when I was buried in work. A dog, maybe. She loved animals, and it might even make the house feel livelier.
The thought made me chuckle quietly. A pet seemed like a much safer middle ground than a baby.