Chapter 36

I’m so happy.

The storm is simmering outside, the icy gale still wreaking havoc on the barren trees, but I barely notice.

Instead, a potent warmth spreads throughout my body as I lay there on the bed, curled up against him, my head on his chest.

My husband. My Silas. My Maxwell .

After our soul-shattering sex, Maxwell carefully tended to me before shutting the French doors and lighting a fire in the hearth, imbuing the dark room with a warm glow. Now, I’m listening to the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat as he plays with my hair with one hand, his other hand trailing over my arm. It’s like we can’t stop touching each other now that the dam has broken and the walls have fallen.

“You know,” I whisper, fighting a smile, “we totally bailed on our own party.”

Maxwell chuckles, his deep voice rumbly, and I splay my leg over his torso and snuggle closer. “I’d much rather be in here, having a party with you. Melody and my siblings can handle it.” He punctuates the sentence with a kiss on my hair.

“Me too.” I prop myself up on my elbows and stare at him. I know we need to have a talk about what this means to both of us. “Just so you know, before you start overthinking…I don’t regret this. Us.”

His fingers still on my body and he rakes in a harsh breath. “Belle, the curse—”

I put my finger over his lips. “Shh… Let me finish, and you can have your turn, then. Maxwell, I understand you believe this curse is real, as does your family. It’s hard to question something you’ve been taught since you were young. But I’m an outsider to all of this and let me tell you, there are no such things as curses.”

Doodling my finger over his hard chest, I continue, “I think it’s easy for us to create stories to explain the tragic events in our lives because if bad things happen for no reason, what hope is there for us? We could live our best life one moment, only for everything to be taken away the next second.”

Maxwell’s throat works and his lips part, heavy emotions clearly swirling in those mesmerizing eyes of his.

“I look at it differently. Because life is so unpredictable, shouldn’t we try to live with no regrets during the short time we’re here? Instead of trying to explain the tragedies in the past, shouldn’t we try to create more joy in the future?”

Leaning down, I press my lips to his, relishing his soft inhale as he kisses me back, his hand trailing reverently down my back.

Breaking apart for air, I whisper, “So no. I don’t believe in the curse, but I can understand that you do. All I’m asking is for you to be brave with me… for me . So I can live with no regrets.”

Maxwell’s eyes trail over my face, his hand cupping my cheek, and his nostrils flare. “Year of yeses,” he rasps, and I smile.

“Yes. Year of yeses. It’s a great attitude. You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t deserve you, Belle.”

I grin. “Few people do, so you should be honored I want to have my next adventures with you.”

He lets out a laborious sigh. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

My heart hiccups—he’s going to try…for me! My lips curve into a big smile.

“That’s all I’m asking for. The attempt at it.” I watch his eyes widen, his lips twitching at my near verbatim response to what he said to me at The Menagerie when we were negotiating the terms of our marriage .

“Can you tell me more about the curse?” I ask as I lay my head on his chest again. He stiffens and I add, “I want to understand it better so I can understand you.”

He doesn’t reply for a few seconds. The room is quiet, other than the faint sounds of the wind outside and the snapping of logs in the fireplace. “We don’t know when it started…this curse. But our guess was somewhere around the late eighteen hundreds, based on the diaries and letters we have from the family.”

Maxwell resumes his stroking of my arm. “There were many stories as to how it began. Some people said it was because the fates didn’t like the rich. And so, those who flaunt their prosperity were marked with death.”

He presses a kiss on my shoulder, and my skin blooms under his caress. “That’s one version of it, which sounds silly, I know. But the more popular version is that one of my forefathers betrayed a woman who loved him and since then, it’s been bad luck for the first sons. Centuries of bad luck. But my father and I have looked into this, searched the archives…we couldn’t find any proof of this betrayal.”

“Then why does your family think there’s truth to this curse? Deaths happen to all families.”

“For every single generation of Andersons since the late eighteen hundreds, the only wives of the eldest sons to have survived into old age were the ones from marriages that weren’t love matches. Bad things would happen unless the eldest son married and had children—heirs to pass the curse down to.”

The guilt is heavy in his voice as he continues, “Some men would seek love outside of marriage, but it’s just wrong, to cheat on your wife. It’s something I’d never do.” His eyes are solemn and I understand now what he told me at The Menagerie. Maxwell is a man of honor. Fidelity is a core value to him.

He continues, “It’s a mind fuck, you know? To keep people from dying, I have to get married to have a son who I’m dooming to the same fate as me. But what’s the alternative? Letting other people I love die? I’ll just have to teach him my ways—teach him he can have a fulfilling life without a loving marriage. There’s more to life than love.”

My heart pinches at the forlorn expression on his face. If he truly believes in the curse, which I know he does, this must’ve been a hard decision to make.

Maxwell shakes his head and sighs. “Dad told me his marriage with Mom began as an arrangement as well. They respected each other’s boundaries and became friends over the course of a few years. Things were wonderful here then. Mom loved art—operas, musicals, painting, literature. My classmates’ parents would leave them with nannies or at boarding schools, but not Mom. Despite our wealth, she gave us all her love and attention, taught us so many things. But…”

His eyes take on a faraway look as his brows pinch.

“Oh, Maxwell.” I throw my arms around his neck, hoping my body weight and heat will comfort him.

His voice roughens. “It’s impossible not to love her, Belle. And she and Dad eventually fell in love. Dad told me, within a year of them confessing their love to each other, she died. A series of random accidents happened before then—a flowerpot from a trellis nearly falling on her head, taking the wrong medicine when she was sick. Things like that.”

Maxwell’s voice is thick as he pauses, clearly overwrought with the memories. “Eventually, one of these incidents killed her. A fall down the stairs. A freak accident with Rex’s marbles. And life was never the same. You may look at Rex and think he’s always happy, but he was the one who found her, the one who beat himself up. That’s why he’s always the one who acts out among us.”

“But it’s not your fault. Any of you. Rex, your father.”

“Dad doesn’t think so. He blames himself for loving her and for accepting her love, even to this day. And later, I found out these series of incidents, all of a different nature, happened shortly before the women died. It was a pattern. Dad eventually tried to find love again, but he wouldn’t marry the woman, and we all know how that turned out.”

I whisper, “Grace and Taylor’s mom. ”

From what I’d heard from my friends who found out their lineage not long ago, their mom and Linus had a passionate affair, but she left because she refused to be a kept woman in the shadows. She was heartbroken for most of her life until she died in a car accident shortly after Grace met Steven.

Maxwell adds, “While I don’t think their mom’s death is because of the curse…so many years have passed, after all, but it’s still shitty luck. Horrible things happen to the women loved by the oldest Anderson son.”

How do I get through to a man who has lost so much? I can hear the conviction in his voice—the fear, the regret, the helplessness. How do I get him to step into the light with me and see reason?

“But accidents can truly happen without supernatural explanations.” My response is feeble, even to my ears.

Maxwell sits up and faces me, his eyes somber. He clasps my hand in his, as if needing my touch for whatever he’s going to tell me next.

“I was once like you. Trying to rationalize all these deaths in my family…the Grim Reaper hanging over me all my life. But there’s something I never told you before.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I was married before, Belle.”

I gasp at the unexpected news—both surprised and appalled at how a surge of jealousy charges through me, at the idea of Maxwell giving his heart away to someone else before.

A heart he doesn’t want to give to me.

“Her name was Sydney, and she was my high school sweetheart.”

He toys with my fingers as he tells me about the girl who befriended him, a guy who was socially awkward. He tells me how she was outgoing, kind, fun, everything he wasn’t, and he was drawn to her energy, even though he knew he probably couldn’t keep up. He explains how they eloped after graduation and how ecstatic he was for thinking he could beat the curse.

Then, he finally tells me how he found out she was in love with Ryland, how Sydney also had a series of random accidents— a fender bender while driving, food poisoning, almost drowning in a swimming pool. He tells me how they had an argument on the family yacht on a stormy night and she fell overboard, drunk, and drowned before anyone noticed.

“I didn’t even know she slipped on the deck. I was so mad at her for her betrayal, for wanting to change me, for not loving me for who I am, just like all the other people, I didn’t even stick around to make sure she made it inside as we headed back to shore.”

Maxwell finally looks up, and I see tears glistening in his eyes. “So no, Belle, I don’t believe in the curse because of stories and superstitions. I believe in it because I’ve lived it before. I’ve touched death, and death has surrounded me. Even though I’ve learned long ago what I felt for Sydney was an imitation of deep love, a puppy love if you will, the curse still descended on her. My love is a death sentence. Don’t you see what I’m trying to tell you?”

I sniffle as I wipe the tears gathered under his eyes. Shaking my head, I say, “They still sound like random accidents to me. Horrible, but accidents, nonetheless. I don’t believe in the curse.” I can’t believe it because the alternative is unbearable.

Because if it’s real, he can never truly give me his heart and my life may be in danger.

Closing his eyes, he leans into my touch. “Over the years, our family had tried circumventing the curse—not getting married, not having kids, but something horrible would always happen, like my grandfather’s younger brother’s entire family perishing when their canoes overturned. Grandfather was trying to outwit the curse by refusing to marry.”

Maxwell takes my hand in his and presses a soft kiss on the back. “Too many accidents to be accidents. Too many deaths. I’ve accepted my role ever since Sydney died. I’m at peace with it. Until…”

You .

He doesn’t say the words, but from the fervent expression on his face, his eyes penetrating, I know that’s what he’s thinking .

“You know, others said the land our mansion lies on is haunted because these are hallowed grounds from an abbey that was destroyed a long time ago. Grandfather Silas never believed in superstitions when he purchased the parcel and built on top of it. Maybe our family was doomed ever since we stepped onto these shores.”

Goosebumps prickle my skin at the mention of Wraithmoor Abbey, and I reach over to the nightstand to grab the vintage locket he gave me.

I dangle it in front of us, admiring the way the gems and metals sparkle under the warm light. “I heard about the abbey. The owner of Wraithmoor Antiquities told me about it.” But I don’t tell him about how I felt a sense of déjà vu that day or how the necklace called to me, even though I’d never seen it before. It still feels too strange to say aloud.

Maxwell opens the locket and traces the words of eternal devotion inside. He’s silent, his breathing heavy, and I turn to face him, finding his eyes glued to the writing, his jaw clenching before releasing.

“Maxwell?”

“I saw this and thought of you—I knew no one else should wear it. That it was somehow meant to be around your neck,” he whispers, his fingers still tracing the writing.

He murmurs, “Upon you, my dearest, my love rests for eternity and beyond, for anything less would be insufferable.”

The words echo between us, a sudden tension heavy in the air. I silently stare at him as his gaze slowly trails up to mine.

He gently takes the necklace from my hand and I hold my breath, my pulse clamoring in my veins. Gently, he brushes my hair to the side and clasps the necklace around my neck.

He touches the locket nestled between my breasts. “Promise me, Belle… Promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”

“But the curse isn’t—”

“Do it for me, then. Please. I’ll take care of you, worship you, give you everything I have, but don’t fall in love with me…for me. And I won’t fall in love with you. ”

A piercing pain jabs me in the heart, and I try to fight the sadness creeping in. I know he’s not ready to let go of his beliefs. I know he’s terrified. But it still hurts hearing him say these words to me.

Especially when I find my heart on the verge of being stolen by him.

But I know if I say no, I might not get the slightest chance with him. And so, with a heavy heart and tears prickling my eyes, I knot our hands together, and let the vows I don’t believe in slip out of my mouth.

“I promise to not fall in love with you, Maxwell.”