“And your memories?” she pressed. “You told me on the phone you remembered nothing.”
He exhaled, as if the subject still weighed on him. “The accident damaged most of them. I woke up confused. Disoriented. If it weren’t for Victoria…” He glanced at the woman beside him. “I wouldn’t have survived. She saved me. Took care of me.”
Victoria straightened immediately, eyes shining. “I did what anyone would’ve done,” she said softly. “I couldn’t leave him alone.”
Madeline’s gaze shifted to Victoria—slow, assessing, unkind.
“Are you sure about this?” Madeline asked bluntly. “About her, Maxon.”
Victoria stiffened.
Madeline didn’t stop. “I won’t lie. I don’t think she’s the right woman for you. I’m sorry, Victoria, but I’ve always imagined my grandson with someone like Nadine.”
The name landed heavily.
Maxon’s fingers twitched at his side.
Speaking of Nadine… Madeline turned, scanning the ballroom. “Where is she?”
A pause followed. An uncomfortable one.
“She isn’t here yet,” Victoria said quickly, forcing a smile. “Maybe she’s just late.”
Madeline cut her a sharp look. “Nadine is never late.”
Victoria’s smile faltered. Inside, irritation boiled. Why is it always Nadine? she thought bitterly. Why her and not me?
Madeline turned away from her and pulled out her phone. “Lewis,” she snapped into the call. “Where is your wife?”
Lewis arrived moments later, breath slightly uneven. “I’ve been calling her, Grandma. She hasn’t answered yet.”
Madeline’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hurt her?”
“What? No!” Lewis said immediately. “We didn’t fight. Everything was fine.”
“Then why isn’t she here?” Madeline demanded. “On my birthday. After everything I’ve done for her?”
Before Lewis could answer, footsteps echoed behind them.
The butler approached, holding an ornate gift box.
“A delivery for you, Madam,” he said. “From Ms. Nadine.”
Madeline’s expression softened—for half a second. “At least she remembered.”
She accepted the box, her fingers deft as she opened it in front of everyone.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Inside were documents, photos, printed messages, medical records, bank transfers, and a neatly typed letter resting on top.
Madeline’s eyes scanned the contents once, then twice, each line carving deeper into her expression. The color drained from her face, shock giving way to something far more dangerous—understanding.