Chapter 41 The Cabin Invitation
The estate had been quiet for days, the fresh paint and polished floors masking the violence that had torn through it. Christmas was only a few days away, and the air carried the faint, comforting scent of evergreen boughs Clara had brought in,
pine needles and resin mingling with the lemon polish and woodsmoke from the newly lit fires. The house felt almost normal again, except for the undercurrent of tension that never quite left.
Ben returned that afternoon.
The black SUV rolled up the drive just after three, tires crunching over lingering patches of slush.
He stepped out in a charcoal overcoat, scarf loose around his neck, carrying only a single leather duffel. His face was composed, but his eyes flicked across the facade of the mansion as if cataloging every repaired window, every new shutter. He knew something had happened here, he’d heard the rumors, seen the increased security patrols, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he greeted Clara at the door with his usual polished charm, asking after the staff, complimenting the decorations.
Alexander watched from the second-floor study window, arms folded, expression unreadable. He’d known Ben was coming back. Two days earlier, one of the pack scouts had caught a man tailing Alexander’s car from the city, discreet, professional, but not discreet enough. The scout had pulled the PI into an alley, questioned him under the threat of claws, and the man had spilled: Ben Hargrove, cash upfront, orders to follow Alexander and Maddie, gathering proof of an affair. The PI hadn’t lasted long after that; he’d been warned, paid off, and sent running. But the message was clear.
Ben was plotting.
Alexander’s jaw tightened as he watched Ben enter the house below. He didn’t care about Ben’s suspicions for his own sake, the board, the company, his reputation could weather scandal if it came to that. What he cared about was Maddie. If Ben found proof, if he weaponized it, the fallout would touch her: the fake marriage exposed, the financial lifeline for her family severed, her safety compromised in the crossfire of their war. Alexander exhaled slowly, fogging the cold glass. He would be more careful. Not because he feared Ben, but because he refused to let anyone hurt her.
Downstairs, Ben found Maddie in the sitting room. She sat near the fire, legs tucked beneath her, a book open on her lap she hadn’t read in twenty minutes. The room smelled of cedar logs and cinnamon from the spiced tea Clara had left on the side table.
Ben smiled, warm, and practiced.
“Miss me, darling?”
Maddie closed the book, setting it aside. “You’re back.”
“Business wrapped up sooner than expected.” He dropped his duffel by the door and crossed to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She turned her face slightly, so his lips grazed her temple instead. He pretended not to notice.
Alexander entered then, footsteps deliberate on the hardwood. He wore a charcoal sweater and dark jeans, sleeves pushed to his forearms, looking every inch the man in control of his domain. His eyes flicked from Maddie to Ben, assessing.
“Ben,” he said evenly. “Welcome back.”
Ben straightened, smile widening. “Alexander. Good to see the place… intact.”
The air thickened. Neither man acknowledged the unspoken: the attack, the blood, the weeks of absence. Maddie felt the tension coil between them like a taut wire.
Alexander moved to the fireplace, resting one hand on the mantel. “I have a proposal.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“Christmas is in a few days. I’d like us to spend it together. All three of us.” Alexander’s voice was calm, measured. “At my cabin in the northern woods. It’s secluded, secure. We can leave tomorrow morning if you both agree.”
Maddie blinked, surprised. The cabin, she’d heard him mention it once, a remote retreat he kept for solitude. The idea of leaving the estate, of spending Christmas away from the lingering ghosts of the attack, appealed to her. A change of air, a chance to breathe. And three of them together, awkward, yes, but maybe necessary. She glanced at Ben.
Ben considered, fingers drumming once against his thigh. His mind worked fast: a smaller house, fewer rooms, fewer places to hide. Three people under one roof for days. Opportunities. Evidence. A chance to catch them in something, anything, he could use. His smile returned, slow and agreeable.
“Sounds perfect,” he said. “Family Christmas. I’m in.”
Maddie nodded slowly. “Okay. I’d like that.”
Alexander’s gaze lingered on Ben a beat longer than necessary. “Good. We leave tomorrow at nine.”
The conversation shifted to logistics, packing, travel, and what food to bring. Ben offered to handle the wine selection; Maddie said she’d pack extra blankets. Alexander listened, contributed little, his expression neutral. But beneath the calm surface, his mind was already turning.
Ben had come back with a motive. Alexander had caught the tail, questioned the man, and learned the plan. Ben wanted evidence. He wanted leverage. And now he’d maneuvered himself into closer quarters, thinking it gave him the advantage.
Alexander would let him think that.
He would be careful, more careful than ever. Not because he feared exposure, but because he refused to let Ben’s schemes touch Maddie. She’d already been through too much: the attack, the shift, the awakening she still hadn’t fully talked about. He wouldn’t add more weight to her shoulders.
Later that afternoon, Maddie’s friends arrived, Sophia and Clara, bundled in coats and scarves, laughing as they stepped into the foyer. The house filled briefly with their voices: Sophia’s teasing about Maddie’s “mysterious disappearance,” Clara’s warm hug and questions about the renovations. They stayed for coffee and cookies in the sitting room, the air scented with cinnamon and laughter. Maddie smiled through it all, grateful for the normalcy, even as her mind drifted to the cabin, to Christmas, to the three of them trapped together in a smaller space.
Alexander watched from the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Ben watched too, from the hallway shadows, eyes narrowed, already calculating.
Tomorrow they will leave.
And the game would shift again.