"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to bring that up."
He knew. He knew exactly what had happened. Walking home from a late shift, I'd been cornered by a group of drunk men. If he hadn't shown up when he did and chased them off, I would have—
I couldn't finish the thought. Even now.
For years, every mention of that night dragged me back into a shadow I couldn't escape. It had taken me so long just to tolerate a man's touch without flinching.
Every time it came up, Max had been careful. Gentle. He'd tiptoe around the subject like it was made of glass, never pressing, never pushing.
And now he'd thrown it in my face like a weapon.
In that moment, I understood. There was no going back. Not anymore.
I ran out of the hotel. Behind me, Max's phone rang, and whatever the call was, it stopped him from following.
Tears blurred my vision. I was about to hail a cab when my phone buzzed.
Brenda Drake. My coworker.
Her voice came through tight and urgent.
"Madeline, do you remember that pre-sale apartment you bought three years ago? The one your husband said was never finished?"
A cold feeling settled in my chest. "What about it?"