Behind The Mask

Chapter 29: The Illusion

POV: Maxwell

The whiskey burned the back of my throat, but it did not do anything to numb the cold, crushing pain in my chest.

I set the empty crystal glass back down on the desk. The sound was so loud in the silence that it made me flinch. My hands were shaking. I could see it in the tremor of my fingers, the way my knuckles had gone white from gripping the edges of the desk too hard.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the bright, radiant smile on Fiona’s face. She had looked so beautiful, so full of life, standing under the chandelier and she was giving all of that light to another man. To Gabriel Lawson.

I gripped the edge of my desk until the wood bit into my palms, trying to catch my breath. The air in the study felt thin, like I was drowning. I felt completely broken.

Suddenly, a strange, heavy wave crashed over my brain.

My vision blurred at the edges, corners of the room bleeding into darkness. I blinked hard, trying to clear it, but the dark shadows in the corners of my study started to stretch and bend. The floor beneath my shoes felt like it was shifting, tilting slightly to the left, then right, as if the whole house had come loose from its foundation. A thick, confusing fog rolled into my mind, making it hard to form a single clear thought.

I let go of the desk and tried to take a step forward, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. Heavy and disconnected from me. I stumbled sideways, my shoulder crashing hard into the tall bookshelf. A few books slid from their place, thudding onto the carpet with a muffled sound. I did not even try to catch them.

"Maxwell?" a soft voice echoed from the doorway.

I snapped my head up. The sudden movement made the entire room spin violently. My heart hammered against my ribs, an uneven rhythm that made me feel like I might pass out.

Someone was walking toward me. The light in the study was very dim, just the glow from the desk lamb and the sliver of light spilling in from the hallway. My vision was swimming in a dizzy haze, shapes bleeding into each other. The woman stepping into the room was just a blurry outline, tall and slender, moving with a quiet confidence i recognized even before I could see her face.

My desperate, broken mind instantly played a cruel trick on me.

The blonde hair faded into the shadows, looking dark and familiar. The sharp features softened and the curve of the lips more familiar.

I did not see Camilla Jones anymore.

Through my blurry eyes, I saw my wife.

"Fiona," I breathed. My voice was thick and heavy.

The woman stopped moving for a split second. Then, she took another step closer. "Yes," she whispered softly. "I'm here, Maxwell."

A massive wave of pure, desperate relief washed over my entire body. She had left the party. She had come back to me. She was not happy with Gabriel. She belonged here, in this house, with me. The thought was intoxicating. For a moment, the pain in my chest eased.

"Fiona," I mumbled again, pushing myself off the bookshelf. My feet dragged across the rug. "You came back. You're actually here."

My hands reached out before I could think better of it, groping for something solid.

"I told you I wouldn't leave you," the voice said, sounding entirely too sweet and patient. Small hands reached out and touched my chest. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

My brain felt like it was floating underwater. The touch felt slightly wrong- too small, too cool, the fingers not quite calloused in the way I remembered- but I didn't care. I couldn't care. I was so starved for her attention, for any version of her that would look at me like I mattered, that I pulled her tightly into my arms. She came easily, fitting against me with a quiet sigh. She felt smaller than I remembered, but the thick fog in my head wouldn't let me focus on the details.

"I'm so sorry," I slurred, resting my chin on the top of her head. The scent was wrong too, but I buried my nose in her hair anyway. "I was a fool. I will give you anything you want. Just don't look at him like that again. Please."

"Shh," she whispered, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her voice was soft. "Let's go upstairs. You need to rest."

I couldn't fight it. My eyes were too heavy to keep open, and my body felt like it was giving up, bone by bone, muscle by muscle. The room was still spinning, but it mattered less now that her arms were around me. I let her guide me.

I kept my arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, terrified that if I let go, she would vanish into thin air. We stumbled out of the dark study and walked slowly toward the staircase. The steps felt like a mountain, but the woman holding me up practically carried my weight. I didn't question it. I couldn't.

We finally reached the top of the stairs and walked down the long hall to the master suite.

"Fiona," I whispered one last time, my eyes completely shutting as the drug pulled me down into the dark.

I blindly reached out, pulling her into the master bedroom with me. My fingers fumbled at the doorframe, missing twice before I found it. The motion made my stomach lurch, but I did not stop.

Behind us, the door slammed shut with a loud, final click.

I felt the warmth of her body against mine, the quiet breathing and the hope that maybe, just maybe, I had not lost her after all.

The room spun once more, and then the darkness took me completely.