POV: Maxwell
The morning after our ruined anniversary, the mansion felt like a graveyard.
I woke up with a pounding headache. The bed beside me was perfectly made and completely cold, just like it was every single morning. I hadn't slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the empty, dead look on Fiona’s face when she dropped that damp towel onto Camilla’s shoes.
I threw off the heavy blankets and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was Maxwell Jordan. I was thirty years old, a billionaire, and the CEO of the most powerful company in New York. I had everything a man could ever want.
So why did I feel like I was suffocating?
I got dressed in a sharp gray suit and walked slowly down the grand staircase. The house was compl
