"ALTHEA!"
Althea nearly spilled her tea.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded.
"I was invited," she said, standing up. "Your mother—"
Max turned to his mother. "You called her?"
She stood calmly. "I did."
"You know how dangerous it is! Father has eyes everywhere—what if they tracked her here? What if they think she's siding with you—what if—"
"Max," Althea said, stepping forward, "calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down! You shouldn't be here!"
"Why not?!"
"Because I'm trying to protect you!"he snapped, voice louder than intended.
They both froze.
Max breathed hard. "You shouldn't have come here. You don't understand what he's capable of—"
"I do," Althea interrupted, voice firm. "You're not the only one who's scared."
Max looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes were glassy. Her hands trembling just slightly. He stepped closer. "You didn't even tell me you were coming."
"And you didn't tell me you cut your mother off."
Silence.
His mother quietly excused herself, leaving the two in the drawing room.
Max sighed, tugging his hair back. "Althea…"
"No. You don't get to freak out at me like I'm a liability. I came here as a person. Not as your wife. Not as some pawn. Just me. And if your father finds that dangerous, then maybe you should've warned me sooner."
Max closed his eyes. "I was trying to keep you away from this."
"Then maybe you should've told me that. Instead of letting me think you were the one watching me."
He flinched. "What?"
"Max. The files. I thought... I thought you were the one behind it."
He stared at her, gutted. "You thought I'd spy on you?"
"I didn't want to. But you didn't say anything."
Max looked at her with an unknown expression which tugged at her heart. "I would never hurt you like that," he said quietly. "Even if you walked out on me. Even if you hated me. I'd never… I'd never treat you like that."
The room was too quiet now.
Althea whispered, "I didn't walk out."
Max blinked.
"I'm still here. Even if I'm angry. Even if I'm confused. I'm still here."
And somehow, that sentence broke something between them. Not in a destructive way. But like a dam easing pressure. A pause. A breath. A shared wound acknowledged.
The car ride home was steeped in a silence so thick it could've drowned them both. No music. No words. Just the soft hum of the engine and the quiet, unspoken weight between them.
Max kept his eyes on the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. His tie was still askew, and his shirt clung to his skin from the sweat of running up the driveway like a man possessed. He hadn't even fixed his hair. He looked... real. Flustered. Scared. And deeply, painfully human.
Althea sat curled in the passenger seat, head leaning on the side, her body turned slightly away from him. She hadn't said a word since they left the estate. She didn't even look at him when he opened the door for her, just climbed in quietly like a shadow.
Max wanted to say something, anything, but every sentence that formed in his head sounded wrong. Defensive. Weak. He knew he had no right to be mad at her. He knew.
He exhaled, slow. Careful. Like it might break the moment otherwise.
"I was scared," he finally said, voice quiet. "When I heard you were at the house, I panicked. I thought... God, I thought they'd done something to you."
Althea didn't respond. Her gaze stayed out the window, unfocused.
"I didn't mean to yell," Max continued. "I just, It's been... a lot. And I know you're angry. And confused. And I probably deserve all of it."
He glanced at her for a moment. Her face was calm now. Tired. Her lashes rested lightly against her cheek. She wasn't looking out the window anymore.
She was asleep. Max blinked, a little surprised. Her breathing was soft. Steady. She had leaned ever so slightly against the car door, as if the exhaustion of the past few days had finally caught up to her. The anger. The confusion. The heartbreak.
And maybe, just maybe, she let herself fall asleep because, despite everything, a part of her still felt safe beside him.
Max turned his eyes back to the road, chest tight with guilt and something warmer, deeper.
He drove slower now. And when they reached home, he didn't wake her up right away.
He just sat in the quiet car, beside the woman he married, watching the way her hair fell over her face, and wondering how much more of her trust he could afford to lose before it was too late to earn it back.
End of Chapter 38.