Chapter 56 Staying Silent

Chapter 56 Staying Silent
Aellorah

I was still shaking when Max finally returned to the suite—an hour later, though it felt like several lifetimes stacked on top of each other.

My hands hadn’t stopped trembling since Jonah cornered me, and even now they lay useless in my lap, fingers curled tight enough to ache. Jonah had left without much of an argument, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d only backed down because of the crowd downstairs, because dragging me out of the hotel kicking and screaming would have caused a scene he couldn’t control. But the look he gave me before he walked away—sharp, disappointed, calculating—made my stomach twist.

I knew I’d pissed him off. I knew he’d tell Daddy. And Daddy was the type who always got what he wanted, one way or another.

“Baby?”

Max’s voice broke through the fog. I looked up from the edge of the bed, where I’d been staring at the same patch of wall for so long it felt like it had absorbed part of me. My throat tightened at the sight of him—rumpled suit, worry etched into every line of his face, eyes scanning me like he expected to find a wound.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” The word scraped out of me, thin and brittle. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe away the exhaustion clinging to my skin, and pushed myself up. Crossing the room felt like wading through water, but I forced myself forward and wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

“How are the guys?” I asked, though my voice barely carried.

“A little bit shocked,” Max said, his hand sliding beneath the back of my shirt, fingertips tracing slow lines along my spine. The gentle pressure made my breath hitch. “But neither of them was hurt; that’s what matters.” He tilted his head, brushing his cheek against mine. “Are you sure you’re alright, princess? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I swallowed hard. “Fine, just… tired.” The lie tasted sour, but I pressed my face against his chest anyway, hiding the guilt burning behind my eyes. There was no use telling him about Jonah’s little visit. It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything. Max was already worried—about me, about the boys, about the fallout from tonight. Adding Jonah to the pile would only make everything heavier.

“Worried about the boys,” I added quickly. “I don’t know what my family will do next.”

“Well, any luck with Momma?” Max asked, his voice softening.

“Nothing yet,” I murmured. “But I know she’ll come through. She loves me, in her own way.”

“I don’t doubt that, baby. You’re very easy to love.”

I let out a laugh—small, shaky, almost pathetic. Easy to love. I didn’t feel easy to love. I felt like a storm that people got caught in by accident. A mess. A burden. A problem that followed whoever cared about me, staining their lives with the consequences of my bloodline.

“Can we go home, Max?” I whispered. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

Max didn’t ask why. He didn’t press; didn’t search my face for answers I wasn’t ready to give. He simply nodded, walked to the closet, and pulled out the duffel bag we’d packed earlier. He handed me a pair of leggings, his movements calm and steady—like he knew I needed someone to be steady right now.

“Sure, baby,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

I dressed quickly, fingers fumbling with the fabric, eager to shed the night like a skin that didn’t fit. Max had done everything—everything—to make the gala special for me. He’d planned it, prepared for it, tried to give me a night where I could feel normal, celebrated, safe. And my family had ruined it. Like they ruined everything good in my life. Like they always would.

“I’m so tired, Max…” I sighed, leaning into him again once I was dressed. My head found his chest automatically, as if it belonged there.

“I know, my love. Tonight was hard for everyone.” He ran his fingers through my hair, slow and soothing, and kissed my forehead. The tenderness made my chest tighten painfully. I swallowed down the acrid feeling of guilt rising in my throat, thick and burning.

I should have told him about Jonah. I should have told him what Jonah said, how he tried to grab my arm before he left, how his voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone that meant he wasn’t bluffing. I should have told him about the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I should have told him that Daddy was probably already moving pieces behind the scenes, already planning something bigger, something worse than a simple crash. But I didn’t see a single reason the information would help us. It wouldn’t protect Max. It wouldn’t protect the boys. It wouldn’t stop my family.

It would only make the situation worse.

And I couldn’t bear the thought of Max looking at me with fear—not fear of me, but fear for me. Fear for his best friends. Fear of what else my family might do. Fear of what loving me might cost him.

So, I stayed quiet. I pressed my face against his chest and let him hold me, let him believe the lie that I was just tired, just overwhelmed, just shaken by the car accident Daddy had caused. I let him carry the weight he already had, instead of handing him more.

But the guilt sat heavy in my stomach, a stone I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t spit out. It pulsed with every heartbeat, whispering that I was making a mistake, that secrets never stayed buried, that silence was its own kind of betrayal.

Still, I stayed quiet.

Because I loved him, and I was scared, and I didn’t know what else to do. I was already haunted by the lingering shadows of my family. I couldn’t possibly imagine how my silence might make the situation that much worse…