Maxwell POV

I had declined the damn ball.

I remember staring at the glowing invitation on my desk that morning, feeling absolutely nothing. Five years ago, the idea of missing a gathering like that would’ve been unthinkable. I lived for rooms filled with power, wealth, and people pretending they mattered. But now? The thought of stepping into a ballroom felt like peeling open an old wound. Too many faces. Too many memories. Too much noise.

So I told my assistant to send my regrets. As always, ...