Rejected By One Hartway, Claimed By Another.

“You really should not let what he did get to you.” Maxwell’s voice broke through the silence inside the car, flat and even, like he was commenting on the weather. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t turn his head. His eyes stayed forward, one arm resting against the window frame, the other loose on his knee while his driver navigated the quiet morning roads.

Diana said nothing at first. She was too busy processing the sheer strangeness of the situation she had landed herself in. She was sitting in a Rolls Royce. Beside her husband’s uncle. After walking out of her marriage with one suitcase and zero plan. The same man who had punched James twice in one evening and then showed up at her doorstep the following morning without being asked. She didn’t even know what to say to that. Or to him.

“Uhmmm…” She cleared her throat softly. “I’m sorry — where exactly are we going?”

Maxwell didn’t answer. He cocked his head slightly and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it like she hadn’t said a word.

Diana pressed her lips together. She waited a beat, then tried again. “Mr Maxwell.” She kept her voice level. “Where are we going?”

He glanced up briefly with a mischievous expression on his face. “Somewhere to be away from my naughty nephew for a while.” Then he went back to his phone.

Diana blinked. Naughty nephew. Like James was some misbehaving child who had knocked something off a shelf. Not a man who had been sleeping with his secretary for God knows how long, secretly married her, and then stood in his mother’s hallway letting that same woman talk about what Diana didn’t have.

She exhaled slowly, bit the inside of her cheek and turned to face the window.

Fine. She would find out when they got there. The drive lasted about twenty minutes before the car slowed and Diana’s eyes caught the entrance of an estate she had passed dozens of times on the main road without ever once going inside. Everyone in their social circle knew about it. Everyone had something to say about it. The kind of place that had its own quiet power — no loud gates, no security theater, just a clean, understated entrance that managed to communicate very clearly that not just anyone came through here.

Even the Hartways, with all their wealth and their gaudy dinner parties and their sprawling mansion, had never had access to this particular estate. Madam Margaret had made a pointed comment about it once at a family gathering — something about permits and connections and how the people inside thought themselves untouchable.

Diana straightened in her seat as the driver turned smoothly into the entrance without slowing down. The gates opened before they even reached them.

“What are we doing here?” she whispered, almost to herself. Then she turned to Maxwell. “Wait — Madam Margaret said the Hartways can’t enter this estate. She said you’d need a special permit just to—”

The car came to a stop. Maxwell pocketed his phone and stepped out without a word. A moment later, her door opened and she realized he had come around to her side. He stood there, unhurried, and said simply, “Get down.”

Diana hesitated. The way he said it — blunt, no softness to it — made her wonder for half a second if she had offended him somehow. She climbed out carefully, and as she straightened, she heard the soft thud of her suitcase being lifted from the boot behind her.

“Follow me.”

She fell into step behind him, her eyes moving across the estate as they walked. It was different from the inside. Quieter. The kind of quiet that felt intentional — wide paths, mature trees lining the edges, nothing cluttered or performative about it. They walked until a duplex came into view and Diana’s steps slowed.

It was magnificent. Not loud and not the the kind of home that announced itself. But the kind that didn’t need to. Clean lines, tall windows, surrounded by just enough space that it breathed. Like whoever built it hadn’t been trying to impress anyone. Had simply wanted something exactly right.

Maxwell stopped at the front door, punched a sequence of numbers into the keypad and the lock released with a soft click. He pushed the door open and stepped aside. Diana walked in slowly.

“Welcome to my private house.”

She turned to look at him. “Your…” She shook her head slightly, processing. “Your private house. You own a house inside this estate?”

One eyebrow went up. “Is it surprising?”

“I just — Madam Margaret always said—”

“The Hartways may not have the means of getting into this estate.” His voice was measured and unbothered laced with a slight tone of pride. “But I do.” He didn’t explain further. Didn’t offer more. Just let that sit in the air between them like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Diana looked away from him and took the house in properly. The interior was cool and still, high ceilings, clean furniture, everything chosen with quiet intention. Nothing extra. Nothing missing. “I need to head to the office,” Maxwell said behind her. “Feel at home.” He paused briefly. “The key code for the main door is the same one you just saw me use. Don’t lose it.”

She turned to respond but he was already moving. A moment later the front door clicked shut behind him and the house went completely silent. Diana stood in the middle of the living room for a long moment, just breathing.

Then she moved to the nearest chair and sat down, her bag sliding from her shoulder onto the floor beside her. She pressed her palms against her knees and stared at the opposite wall.

Stunned was too small a word for what she felt. Hours ago she had been planning a romantic birthday dinner for a man who was already in a hotel room with someone else. Now she was sitting inside an estate she had never thought she would set foot in, in a house that belonged to a man she barely knew, with one suitcase and a marriage in ashes.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and the screen was already crowded with notifications. Messages from James, stacked on top of each other, each one a different version of the same desperation.

‘I’m sorry Diana please come home.’ ‘Diana don’t do this, we can fix this.’ ‘Stay away from him. He’s not who you think he is. Diana I swear to God if you—’ ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Please just answer me.’

She read through them all without blinking. There was something almost fascinating about watching a man perform panic in real time. Where had all this urgency been on her birthday night? Where had it been every single time she sat up waiting for him and he didn’t come?

She was still scrolling when her phone stopped vibrating and started ringing outright. She looked at the name on the screen. Madam Margaret.

Diana closed her eyes for one second. Of course. James had already run to his mother. She could picture it — him standing in that sitting room at Riverpark Estate, horrified and humiliated, calling his mother the moment the Rolls Royce turned the corner and disappeared.

She heaved a slow, heavy breath. Then she picked up the call.

“You cheap whore!”

The shriek hit her ear so hard she nearly pulled the phone away from her face. Madam Margaret’s voice came through the line like a blade wrapped in silk — sharp, cutting, vibrating with the kind of fury that had clearly been building since the moment James opened his mouth.

“You have the shameless audacity to walk out of my son’s house and climb into my brother’s car like some desperate, conniving little—”

“Madam Margaret—”

“Don’t you dare interrupt me!” The pitch climbed higher. “Do you know who you are? Do you know what you are? A nobody! A girl my son picked up from nothing and gave a life to, and this is how you repay him? By throwing yourself at his uncle? You disgusting—”

“He cheated on me.” Diana’s voice was quiet with gentle sobs. She didn’t raise it and didn’t match Margaret’s pitch. “Your son cheated on me. Not once. Repeatedly. He took the same bag he had customized for me and gave it to her. He brought her to your family dinner and left me sitting alone for over an hour while he was in a room with her. He secretly married her.” She paused. “That is what happened.”

Silence. It lasted about three seconds.

“My son has every right—”

“I know.” Diana cut her off this time, soft but final. “I know he does. In your eyes he always will. That’s fine.” She looked across the quiet, unfamiliar room around her. “But I’m done.”

“You will regret this.” Madam Margaret’s voice had shifted from a shout into something colder, more deliberate. “When Maxwell throws you out of wherever you’ve crawled to, don’t come running back. You won’t find a door open for you.”

Diana said nothing.

“Are you listening to me? You are finished. Finished. I will make sure every—”

Diana pulled the phone from her ear and ended the call.

She placed it face down on the cushion beside her and sat very still. The house was quiet again. Just the faint sound of wind moving past the tall windows and somewhere, distantly, a bird. Diana pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose and breathed.