MAXWELL’S POV
The silence following her confession was absolute, feeling significantly heavier than the quiet in the car or the club as the crushing and suffocating weight of my own stupidity landed squarely on my shoulders.
Standing there in the brightly lit bathroom with my hands hovering in the air right where they had been gripping her shoulders, staring at Andrea revealed her slumped over on the marble counter. With her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shook with silent and racking sobs.
My mother doesn't have ten days. She barely has ten hours.
The devastating words replayed in my mind on a continuous loop, slicing through my previous anger like a razor blade.
Having spent the last twenty-four hours entirely consumed by jealousy, tearing apart my office, hiring a private
