Chapter 56

Cecilia

Max looked at Alice, then at me, then back at Alice.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I know you wanted to talk to Ceci alone, but I—I couldn't wait anymore. I need to say this."

Alice's hand tightened on mine.

Max crossed the room slowly, like he was afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her injuries.

"Alice," he said, and his voice cracked. "I love you. And I know I've fucked everything up. I know I've been controlling and possessive and I've made your life hell."

He took a shaky breath. "But I want to do better. I want to be better. For you."

Alice was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face.

"I don't care what people say," Max continued. "I don't care if they think you seduced me or if they call you names or if they judge us. I'll face all of it with you. I'll stand beside you and tell anyone who has a problem with us to fuck off."

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers like he was afraid to touch her. "But I need you to tell me—do you want that? Do you want me?"

Alice looked at him for a long moment, and I could see the war playing out on her face—fear and love and uncertainty all tangled together.

Then she reached out with her good hand and took his.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I want that. I want you."

Max let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and carefully, so carefully, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I'll be better," he promised. "I swear to god, Alice, I'll be better."

"We'll figure it out together," she said softly.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find Arthur standing behind me, his expression gentle. He gestured toward the door, and I nodded.

But before I could stand, Alice's hand shot out, grabbing mine again.

"Ceci," she said, looking between me and Max. "You and Max—you're my whole world. Both of you. I need you to know that."

I smiled, even though my vision was blurring with tears. "You're ours too, Alice. Always."

Arthur and I exchanged a look—understanding, relief, and something like hope passing between us.

We stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind us to give Max and Alice their privacy.

"She's staying with him," I said quietly.

"I know." Arthur pulled me close. "How do you feel about that?"

I thought about it—about Alice's fierce determination to protect me, about Max's broken apology, about the way they'd looked at each other just now.

"I think," I said slowly, "that love is complicated. And messy. And sometimes it doesn't make sense from the outside."

I looked up at Arthur. "But if she loves him, and if he's really willing to change, then who am I to tell her she's wrong?"

Arthur pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You're a good friend, Ceci."

"I'm a worried friend," I corrected. "But yeah. I'll be here for her. Whatever she needs."

We stood there in the hallway, holding each other, and I felt the weight of the past two weeks finally start to lift.

The morning light filtered through the hospital window, casting soft shadows across Alice's bed.

It had been three days since Alice woke up. She still looked very weak.

"You're leaving today?" Alice asked.

I nodded, perching carefully on the edge of her bed. "We have to. The party is only a few days away, and there's so much to prepare."

"I wish I could come with you." She tried to smile, but I could see the exhaustion pulling at her features. "Be there to watch you take down Arthur's grandmother."

"The doctors said at least another week of observation," Max said from his position by the window, his arms crossed. "Maybe two, depending on how the swelling goes."

Arthur stood near the door, giving us space but close enough to intervene if needed. "We'll call you every day," he said. "Keep you updated on everything."

Alice reached out with he hand, and I took it, squeezing gently. "You're going to be amazing, Ceci. I know you are."

"I'm terrified," I pretended to say.

"Good." She smiled, more genuine this time. "That means you're taking it seriously. But you've got this. You've faced down worse than some old-money matriarch and her scheming daughter."

I laughed despite myself. "Have I?"

"You took down William Winston," Max said, his voice rough. He finally turned from the window, his expression softer than I'd ever seen it. "You can handle Margaret Brahmore."

Arthur moved to stand beside me, his hand finding my shoulder. "It's time for us to head to the airport."

I stood reluctantly, not wanting to leave Alice but knowing we had no choice. "You'll call if anything changes? If you need anything?"

"I promise," Alice said. "Now go. And Ceci?" She waited until I looked at her. "Show them who you really are. Don't let them make you feel small."

I bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, careful of the bandages. "I'll try."

Max walked us to the door. In the hallway, away from Alice's hearing, he stopped us.

"Thank you," he said quietly, looking at Arthur, then at me. "For everything. For being there when I—when I fucked up. For not giving up on her."

Arthur extended his hand, and Max took it. "Take care of her."

"I will." Max's grip was firm. "And you two—good luck. With the party, with Arthur's family, with all of it. You're gonna need it."

As we walked away, I glanced back once to see Max slipping back into Alice's room, his shoulders finally relaxing now that we were gone and he could focus entirely on her.

Arthur drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine.

"Carter had left three days ago. he was called back home by his mother’s phone call." Arthur said, breaking the silence. "About breaking off the engagement with Sophia."

I thought of Sophia. She’s been locking herself in her room this whole time. The staff said she barely ate, barely slept. Just stayed in there, crying.

Part of me felt sorry for her. But a bigger part remembered Alice's head hitting those stairs, remembered the blood, and the sympathy evaporated.

I thought of Madison and had originally planned to teach her a lesson. But the doctor told me that her injuries weren't serious, she’d woken up on the third day and slipped back home secretly.

I let out a cold snort.

We pulled up to our apartment building late at night., I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease. Home. Finally.

"First thing tomorrow," I said as we rode the elevator up, "I'm calling Catherine Ashford."