Maxwell POV
The past had a cruel way of creeping in, slipping through the cracks no matter how tightly you tried to seal them.
I leaned back in my chair, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The glass of whiskey in my hand was untouched, the ice melting into oblivion—like the memories I had spent years drowning, only for them to claw their way back to the surface.
Victoria. My world or so I thought.
Her name slithered through my mind like a whispered curse, a venomous reminder of the man I used to be. A man who had once believed in love. A man who had once been willing to give up everything for her.
I had let her in. I had let myself love her.
And she had destroyed me for it.
The woman I had built my life around had sharpened my own trust into a blade and drive
