Rejected By One Hartway, Claimed By Another.

Maxwell’s first instinct when he saw his nephew’s wife standing with her ears pressed against the wall, listening to her husband and his mistress, was to just walk past like he hadn’t seen a single thing.

He had always minded his business. Always. But something nailed his feet to the ground and refused to let him move.

He knew that look on her face. The trembling jaw. The wide, glassy eyes trying so hard to hold everything in. The way her fingers pressed flat against the wall like she needed it to keep her standing. He had worn that exact same expression once. A long time ago. In a different hallway. With a different woman.

Maxwell exhaled slowly through his nose. He had loved a woman once. Fiercely. The kind of love that made a man stupid and blind and reckless. She had taken every single piece of him and quietly handed it all over to someone else while smiling in his face. He had found out the same way — stumbling into a truth he never went looking for.

It had nearly broken him.

He watched Diana from a few steps away, his jaw tightening as the sounds from beyond the door became impossible to ignore. His hand curled into a fist at his side. He had always known James was reckless. Known he was selfish and arrogant and lived his life like the rules that governed decent men didn’t apply to him. But bringing his mistress here? To a family event? While his wife sat out there alone for over an hour?

The anger that crawled up Maxwell’s chest surprised even him.

He had never particularly cared about James’ personal disasters. His nephew had always been a walking catastrophe and Maxwell had long since decided it wasn’t his problem to fix. But this — this was different. This was a woman breaking apart in silence in a hallway, and Maxwell had stood in that exact same place before.

He didn’t think twice. He shoved the door open.

The rest happened quickly. His hand found James’ collar before either of them said a word and the first punch landed clean across his jaw. The second one connected before James could even process what was happening.

“You left your wife out there only to come here frolicking with this cheap whore.” His voice came out low and steady, which somehow made it worse.

“It’s none of your business—” James started. Maxwell didn’t let him finish. The third punch shut him up.

By the time Madam Margaret shrieked her way through the crowd and pried them apart, James’ face was already swollen and bleeding. Maxwell straightened his suit jacket, breathing evenly, and turned to find Diana gone.

He found her outside.

She was just standing there in the rain. Not running. Not hailing a cab. Just standing, completely still, letting it soak through her and ruin her gown and flatten her perfectly styled hair. Like she had given up on even trying to hold herself together.

“You’ll get a cold standing in the rain,” Maxwell said, breaking through her silent pain.

She turned quickly and the look on her face was one he recognised — embarrassment. The humiliation of being caught in someone else’s sympathy. She opened her mouth to say something, probably something sharp, anything to send him away, but her legs chose that moment to give up entirely.

Maxwell moved fast.

He caught her before she hit the ground, his arms going around her in one swift move, and the moment she was steady against his chest, he felt just how badly she was shaking.

________________

Diana opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. The first thing she did was reach out and feel the bed for her phone. Her fingers closed around it and she pulled it to her face. Ten pm. She stared at the number for a moment, blinking slowly, then sat upright.

The throbbing started immediately. A hard, pounding ache right behind her eyes that made her squeeze them shut and press her fingers against her temples. She breathed through it, waiting for it to settle, then slowly looked around.

The room was large and clean. Expensive looking furniture, soft lighting, curtains pulled shut against the night outside. Everything was unfamiliar. She turned her head and nearly jumped out of her skin.

Maxwell was sitting in a chair in the corner, watching her. His legs were stretched out, arms folded across his chest, his expression completely unreadable.

“How did I end up here?” The words came out sharper than she intended but she didn’t soften them.

Maxwell let out a short scoff. “So much for a thank you.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“I know.” His voice was flat and even. “But I know a broken woman when I see one, so I won’t take your words to heart.”

Diana pressed her lips together and looked away. Then slowly, properly, she looked back at him. She hadn’t really seen him earlier. Not properly. She had registered the brown eyes, the sharp interference, the punches — but now she took him in fully and something shifted quietly in her chest before she could stop it.

He was tall. Even sitting down it was obvious. Broad through the shoulders, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, full lashes framing those same piercing brown eyes that had startled her earlier in the hallway. His shirt was slightly open at the collar and she caught the edge of something dark — and ink, a tattoo — before she dragged her eyes away. Damn.

She stopped the thought immediately before it could finish forming. This was James’ uncle. She was a married woman walking out of a nightmare. The last thing she needed was—

“Thank you,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “I should get going.”

“I didn’t bring you here to entertain you.” His tone was blunt, almost cold. “I helped because this area isn’t safe at night. There are men around here known for worse things than stealing.” He held her gaze. “You passed out in the rain. You were soaked. I wasn’t about to leave you on the ground.”

Diana batted her eyes slowly and didn’t respond. Then something occurred to her. She looked down to see that she was wearing a t-shirt that was definitely not hers. It was oversized, soft, smelling faintly of something clean and masculine. Her gown was nowhere in sight.

Her eyes snapped back to Maxwell.

As if he had already anticipated the exact thought running through her mind, he spoke before she could open her mouth.

“The maids changed you.”

Diana exhaled and gave a small nod, saying nothing.

Maxwell stood. He was even taller upright. His shirt was still unbuttoned at the top and as he moved, her eyes caught the snake tattoo properly this time — dark ink curling across his chest, the tail disappearing beneath the fabric. She looked away quickly.

“Get some rest,” he said, already moving toward the door. “Tomorrow, if you want to go home, you can.” He paused briefly without turning around. “Wherever home is for you right now.”

He said it simply. Without malice or contempt. But they both understood exactly what it meant. Then he walked out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Diana sat in the silence for a moment, then picked up her phone. The missed calls loaded immediately. Four of them. All James.

She hissed and turned the phone face down on the duvet.

She was done. There was nothing left in her for him — not anger, not love, not even the energy required to feel properly betrayed anymore. She was just exhausted. Hollowed out.

Her eyes grew warm and she blinked hard. The memories crept back anyway. The rose petals she had scattered on the bedroom floor on her birthday night. Sitting up waiting for him until sleep dragged her under. The way he had kissed her forehead in the morning and said I’m sorry, I was swamped with work like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She had believed him.

The phone started ringing again. She grabbed it, ready to decline, then stopped when the name on the screen registered.

Carla.

She picked up.

“Diana!” Carla’s voice flooded the line immediately. “I have been calling you for the last two hours. Your phone wasn’t going through and I was about to drive to that mansion myself — how did the dinner go? Are you okay?”

Diana wiped her eyes quickly, as though Carla could see her through the screen. She exhaled. “I caught him again, Carla.”

Silence for one beat.

“What?”

“At the house. With Erica. The same girl.” Diana paused, steadying her voice. “And it’s worse this time. They already had a court wedding.”

The sound that came through the phone was somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. Carla launched into a stream of insults so colorful and precise that Diana almost smiled despite herself. “He is a wretched, disgusting, low-life excuse for a man and I hope he rots,” Carla finished breathlessly. “Oh, my poor baby. I am so, so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“I know.”

“Where are you right now? I’m coming to you.”

Diana hesitated. “Di?”

“I’m… I’m fine. I’m somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere safe where? Diana, where are you?” The silence stretched one second too long and Carla, who had known her since university and could read her hesitations like a language, cut straight through it. “Diana Hartway. Where are you?”

“It’s complicated, Carl—”

“Whose house are you in?”

Diana closed her eyes. “Maxwell’s.”

The silence on the other end was deafening. Then — “Whose house?”

“Maxwell Hartway.”

“You mean—” Carla’s voice dropped to something between a whisper and a shriek. “Maxwell Hartway? The Maxwell Hartway? You are in that man’s house right now?”

“Carla—”

“Diana, that man is worth more than most small countries—”

“Carla, I am not in the mood—”

“I’m just saying! That is quite…” she trailed off, exhaling slowly. “Interesting. That’s quite interesting, di.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry. Are you okay? Really?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need tonight.”

Carla softened immediately. “Okay. Call me first thing in the morning.”

________________

Diana didn’t sleep. Not really. She lay with her eyes open staring at the ceiling while the clock ticked past midnight, past one, past two. Her mind wouldn’t rest. It kept replaying everything — the conversation she had heard through the door at the mansion, James’ bare chest, Erica’s satisfied laugh, you are worth more than a hundred Dianas.

She was still awake at three am when she finally stopped fighting it and just let the thoughts run themselves out.

By the time morning came, pale light leaking in through the curtains, she felt strangely calm. Not healed. Not fine. But settled, the way a storm settles into quietness.

She sat up.

Her gown was laid neatly across the foot of the bed — washed, pressed, looking like it hadn’t spent half the night soaked in rain. She stared at it for a moment, something she couldn’t name moving through her chest, then quietly got dressed. She gathered her bag and her phone and walked out of the room.

The house was still and cool in the early morning as she made her way down the wide staircase and nearly walked straight into Maxwell at the bottom.

He was already dressed. Dark trousers, a simple shirt, expression as unreadable as it had been the night before. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

Diana moved to step past him, then stopped. “Thank you,” she said, meeting his eyes briefly. “For last night. I should get going.”

Maxwell nodded once. “Take care of yourself.” He turned to the side. “I’ll have my driver take you.”

“I already booked a cab. Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow. Something shifted briefly in his expression — amusement, maybe, or just faint surprise — then he shrugged, a slow, unhurried movement that said as you wish without a single word, and turned and walked back upstairs. Diana stood at the foot of the staircase alone for a moment. Then she walked outside.

She sat in the back of the cab the whole way home without checking her phone once. When the familiar gates of Riverpark Estate came into view she felt the dread settle into her stomach like something solid.

The cab stopped. She paid, stepped out, and stood on the pavement with her bag at her feet, staring at the front door.

She stood there long enough that the cab drove away.

Then she picked up her bag, lifted her chin, and walked inside.

James was in the sitting room. She stopped dead. She hadn’t expected that. He was usually at work by now — had always been at work by now — and the sight of him sitting there, watching the door like he had been waiting, sent a sharp spike of anger straight up her spine.

She didn’t say anything, just turned and made for the stairs.

“Diana.” His hand closed around her wrist.

The touch hit her like something electric and wrong. She wrenched her arm away hard and spun to face him. “Don’t you dare.”

“Diana, just listen—”

“I am done.” Her voice didn’t shake. She was surprised by that. “I am done being your fool, James. I am done.”

She turned and walked upstairs. Found the suitcase exactly where she had left it, half packed, tucked behind the wardrobe. She pulled it out and dragged it down the stairs without bothering to add anything else to it. She had enough.

James appeared at the bottom of the staircase. “What are you doing? Diana—”

She walked past him.

“Diana, put that down. Let’s talk about this—”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” She wheeled the bag toward the front door and pulled it open.

“You’re being dramatic. Stop—”

She walked outside, standing on the front steps trying to figure out whether to call Carla’s driver or book another cab when she heard it — the smooth, quiet rumble of an engine. A black Rolls Royce rolled to a stop directly in front of her.

The window came down and to the duo’s shock, Maxwell looked out at her, his arm resting on the door, completely unbothered.

“What the—” James shoved past her. His whole face had changed, the pretense falling away entirely. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Maxwell didn’t look at him. His eyes were on Diana. “You have three seconds to get in.”

James turned to her. Something panicked moved across his face for the first time. “Diana. Sweetheart, don’t — don’t listen to him—”

Diana looked at Maxwell. Looked at James. Looked at the car.

Then she opened the door and got in. She heard James shouting as Maxwell’s driver stepped out, lifted her suitcase with quiet efficiency, and placed it in the boot. The door clicked shut. The car didn’t hurry. Maxwell glanced once in the side mirror, and the ghost of something that might have been a smile crossed his face.

“Loser,” he said, almost to himself.

The Rolls Royce pulled away smoothly. Diana stared out the window as the gates of Riverpark Estate disappeared behind her. She didn’t know where they were going. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know if any of this made sense.

She stole a glance at Maxwell from the corner of her eye. He was facing forward, his jaw set, one hand resting loosely on his knee — completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just upended her entire morning. Like rescuing her was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Diana faced the window again before he could catch her looking.

She didn’t know what to make of him. Didn’t know why he kept showing up. Didn’t know why a man like Maxwell Hartway — cold, sharp-edged, someone who clearly had no business concerning himself with his nephew’s failing marriage — had now twice in less than twenty-four hours stepped between her and the worst version of her life.