Chapter 27

“Sir, Belle’s been in an accident.” Melody bursts into my study without knocking, her eyes flaring in panic.

Chills crawl up my back, and I stand up. “What do you mean?” Images of Mom, Sydney, and all their accidents float through my mind. This can’t happen again.

“Belle. S-She…the hospital called. Agnes isn’t here, so I picked up. S-She…She—”

“What? Tell me!”

Melody flinches and I would’ve felt guilty if it weren’t for the clawing terror ripping my heart into shreds. “S-She was volunteering at the shelter and fell down a flight of stairs. They sent for an ambulance and took her to Mount Sinai.”

Panic mauls me like a rabid beast, my heart lurching to my throat, and I quickly grab my cell phone and dart toward the door.

“Car? Where’s Morris?” I bark out as I pass by her.

“I didn’t look for him! I ran up to you after I got the call.”

“Fuck!” I jab the intercom button and as soon as a voice comes on, I command, “Bring a car around—any of them, right now!”

Please be okay, Belle. I run down the empty corridors, my footfalls echoing in a thunderous beat. Flying down the stairs, I take several steps at a time, every inch of my body needing to be where my wife is, where a piece of my heart is.

I thought I’d protected her by being an ass. Had I not done enough?

Heavy regret smothers my lungs as I sit in the town car minutes later. I think back to how I’ve treated her these past few months—moments of intense passion peppered with cold rejection, the hurt in her eyes whenever I left her after we had sex, when I wanted nothing more than to peel off her clothes and worship every inch of her delectable body.

I wish she knew how difficult it was for me to hold back the impulse to kiss those pouty lips, the lips that had worshiped my scars and called them beautiful, instead of the ugly flaws they were. She saw the monsters lurking inside me, and yet she accepted me all the same.

But I keep telling myself I’m doing this for her own good. To keep our hearts intact. To keep her safe.

Did I not do enough? Does any of this even matter to the curse? Is it already too late?

And if it is, she’d die not knowing how much I care about her, how much I regret hurting her feelings, how hard it was for me to stay away from her. I didn’t even get to apologize to her.

It’s too late, Maxwell , a ghoulish voice whispers in my mind.

Too late, just like before, all those years ago.

“I want to annul our marriage.” Sydney stared at me, her green eyes coated with moisture. The bitter wind beat against our bodies as we stood at the helm of the family yacht, the dark waters of the ocean pitch black around us.

The knife she hurled at my chest ever since I overheard her confession to Ryland twisted into my heart, severing an artery, leaving me a bloody mess before her.

A bloody mess she couldn’t see.

Shaking my head, a few mirthless chuckles escaped my lips.

“For better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish as long as you both shall live,” I spat out the civil wedding vows we said to each other on our elopement, my middle finger to the curse and the path laid out before me as the eldest Anderson offspring.

Because I refused to let a curse run my life.

She whimpered and stared helplessly at me .

“I overheard you and Ryland, you know,” I seethed, burning rage sifting through my veins like a wildfire.

Facing the ocean, I let the harsh winds flay me in my face to dry the moisture in my eyes.

I may be a failure, scars and all, a socially awkward idiot who panicked in front of crowds, an eldest son who wasn’t worthy of the Anderson name, but I still had my pride.

“I-I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Why? Why were you with me then, Sydney? Why did you give me hope?” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “I-I thought you were different than the others.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by a streak of lightning snaking across the turbulent skies.

“You were so sweet to me. I was moved. I-I thought I could change you, bring you out of your shell. Maybe we could try different things, travel, meet new people, party it up. We’re so young,” she whispered.

“And then you could have your art exhibits at The Met and show off your talent to the world, and I could be your doting wife next to you. We’d be the power couple. You’d be the talent, and I’d be the socialite. No one could stop us. I thought…we’re so young and I could change you and make you be—”

“More like him ? Like Ryland? The charming, popular prince?”

“Maxwell,” she cried, “I love you both! It’s just, I—”

“Love him more, right? That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?”

Shaking my head, I turned my face toward the rain, which started to fall moments ago. I hated the fucking rain so much, but its appearance seemed very appropriate now.

“The sad thing is, Sydney, I would’ve understood if you were honest with me. I would’ve understood if you chose him.”

I heaved out another breath. “I-I would’ve stepped aside.”

Who wouldn’t love my charming, extroverted brother? My loyal, perfect, unblemished brother, whom I’d always be willing to give up my life for, like that time with the boar attack. He was the perfect version of me.

“I love my brother more than anyone in the world, and I would’ve wanted him happy, even if that meant stepping aside and seeing you with him, as long as you love him.”

Slamming my hand on the railing, I screamed, “And now you’ve driven a wedge between us and I’m so fucking pissed at you!”

Because I gave her my feelings, emotions I had locked up tight because I was told I wasn’t allowed to have them as the eldest son—the cursed son.

It was all an illusion. A mirage.

But you can’t just make love disappear, can you? It’s out there now—the feeling, the I love yous, the vows, and I’m the one left suffering.

Curling my hands into tight fists, I whirled toward her. She backed away, fear clear in her eyes. Rain was pouring down in a violence I hadn’t seen before. I couldn’t do this now. I needed to tell the captain to head back to the dock.

“Sydney, I feel nothing for you but regret.” And betrayed and heartbroken, but I didn’t tell her that. “Whatever you want to say, I don’t want to listen. It’s too late. God, I wish I had never met you. Go rot in hell. ”

“Maxwell, please,” she cried after me as I stomped inside the cabin and ignored her, the storm raging outside only a fraction of the hurt and pain I was feeling inside.

Later on, I’d wish I could turn back time and undo everything.

I’d wish I could hear the splash of a person slipping off the deck that night, a person I loved with all my heart then, not knowing I was capable of feeling so much more. I’d wish the Coast Guard could’ve found her before she drowned in the icy depths of the Atlantic.

I’d wished I never married her or fell in love with her. Maybe that would’ve saved her .

And if she were still destined to die, I’d wish I could’ve told her I forgave her because, ultimately, I cared about her and would’ve wanted her happy.

But it was too late. Much too late.

My breathing is shallow, sweat rolling down my forehead as the car slows in front of the hospital.

It can’t be too late this time. It can’t be. Not again.

I may have married Belle already, but I can’t let her think I don’t care about her. I can’t let her feel how Sydney made me feel.

Unwanted.

I’ll just not fall in love with her. As long as we don’t fall in love with each other, we’ll be fine. It won’t be like Sydney. It won’t be like my parents.

I jump out of the car before it stops and dash into the hospital, not caring as attendants and doctors try to stop me from running down the halls. I only pause to find out Belle’s room number and in a matter of seconds or minutes, as everything feels exactly the damn same right now, I burst into room 508, my thundering pulse a frenzied rumble in my ears.

My wife is lying still on the bed, her eyes closed. She looks so fragile, so breakable. My heart freezes in my chest.

Her friends are gathered around her bedside, but I barely pay them any attention as I shove my way in between them to my wife. “Belle! Please tell me you’re all right.”

She opens her eyes and gives me a tired smile. “I’m fine. It was an accident, that’s all.”

She’s alive. My shoulders sag in relief as I curl my body over hers, my hands clasping her clammy ones tightly but a taunting voice inside me whispers, the accidents are starting again, just like before. Remember when Sydney nearly drowned in the swimming pool and—

I shut down my thoughts—I can’t think about that right now. My eyes rove over her body, noticing a bandage on her forehead, a few red scrapes over her face and arms, purple bruises already forming on her pale skin .

“Fuck,” I heave, the nausea churning inside me still making me want to throw up my lunch. “Thank God you’re okay. Fuck, you scared me, Belle.”

“I-I’m fine, Maxwell,” she whispers, her hand slides out of my clasp and curls around my face.

She gently wipes the sweat off my brows and upper lip as if she knows I’m hanging on by the thinnest thread.

A swift current of emotions floods up my spine, and I want to tell her how she’s an indelible part of my life, how she’s the sunshine in my never-ending night, the spring in my barren winter. I want to tell her I need her by my side, that I married her because I couldn’t stand the idea of her being with another man.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Someone clears his throat, and I finally pay attention to the other people in the room. That bastard Cole is standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his glare threatening to murder me on the spot.

Something dangerous glints in his eyes, but I couldn’t care less. He can go fuck himself.

Blowing out a breath, I ignore him and turn back to Belle.

I murmur, “I’m glad you’re okay, little muse.” An endearing flush blooms on her face.

Standing back up, I see Grace and Millie with beaming smiles on their faces and Taylor with a sly grin on hers.

Taylor twirls a lock of raven hair around her finger and says, “Doctor said she’s fine. Only some cuts and bruises. They checked her out and did a bunch of scans and everything. Not even a concussion. But they’ll watch her for a day or two just in case. As soon as they found out she is the Mrs. Maxwell Anderson, they gave her the VIP treatment and pampered her like the queen she is.”

“I told them they didn’t need to,” Belle mumbles, clearly flustered.

“I’m glad they took care of you.” If they didn’t, I’ll sue the shit out of them .

“It was so weird…oil on the stairs? Who the fuck would spill oil on the stairs and not clean it up afterward? Bastards. You should sue them,” Taylor snarls, and my head snaps up.

“Don’t! If they go under, what will happen to the animals?” Belle sneaks a worried glance at me.

“It was probably that asshole boss of hers, Bob something. He’s always cutting corners and making a mess of the shelter.” Millie scowls.

“Thank goodness Cole found her quickly,” Grace chimes in.

My gaze darts to the blond in question, only to find his frosty glare still pinned on me. Stiffening, I meet his gaze straight on. She’s my wife and she’ll never be yours.

“Thank you.” I manage to utter the bare minimum.

He grunts and turns away.

I’m going to find this Bob and unleash my wrath on him. For every bruise I find on Belle’s body, I’m going to give it back to him tenfold.

A growl slips out of my mouth, and I curl my hands into fists.

“Don’t listen to them, Maxwell. It was an accident, that’s all.” Belle grabs my hand.

Fury boils inside me as I strain a smile at her, not wanting her to worry. I pat her hand and step away, my other hand reaching inside my pocket to take out my phone.

Accident or not, I’m looking into this Bob person.

Leave no stone unturned. The curse isn’t taking Belle from me.