I Want To Forget The Past

Hunter's POV

By the time I returned to the office, the silence felt heavier than usual. I busied myself with reports and contracts—routine, mechanical movements meant to distract me. But my mind refused to stay tethered to work. Again and again, my thoughts drifted to Madeline.

Her face. Her voice. Her lips.

I would pause mid-sentence, staring at the same paragraph for minutes, seeing nothing but the memory of her soft red lips. What the hell is wrong with me? I've kissed so many women before, some forgettable, some not—but none of them left this kind of echo in my mind. None of them haunted my thoughts the way she did.

Madeline's innocence pulled at something inside me I hadn't felt in years, something I thought I'd buried for good. Her quiet resilience, her natural beauty, and her soft strength were disarming and alarming. I should be protecting her, not desiring her. She was my future wife, yes—but only because of a promise I made. A duty. Not because I fell in love with her.

And yet, I feared I might be falling. Maybe I don't just need to protect her from my family, I thought grimly. Maybe I need to protect her from me.

Just as I was about to sign the final contract on my desk, my phone vibrated. I barely glanced at the screen until I saw the sender—Lily. My little sister almost never texted during office hours. My heart immediately tightened.

Hunter, I think Madeline is sick. She didn't show up for dinner. I knocked several times, and Cerila waited at her door for a long while. She never came out.

I straightened in my chair, my pulse quickening. Sick? My thumbs moved over the screen before I could think.

"Why? What did she do today?"

The reply came fast.

"Our parents and siblings made her serve them breakfast and lunch. They told the maid not to prepare the table because Maddie would do it. And mom made her help the laundry staff. She looked exhausted. I think she got overworked." My jaw clenched as I read her words.

Every inch of my body tensed with fury. They made her do what?

I had planned to meet a few friends at the bar that evening—grab drinks, share laughs, blow off steam—but that thought vanished in an instant. I canceled with a single text. I didn't even wait for a reply.

I drove home with a tight grip on the steering wheel, my mind seething. By the time I pulled into the driveway, dusk had fallen, casting long shadows over the mansion's pristine façade. My heart pounded with a mix of dread and protectiveness.

Lily was waiting near the bottom of the grand staircase, her knees drawn up to her chest, eyes half-closed. The moment she saw me, her face lit up with relief.

"Hey," I said gently as I approached. "What are you doing sitting here, Lily?"

"I was waiting for you," she said, standing up quickly. "I'm really worried about Maddie. She didn't eat anything. She's been in her room since this afternoon."

I gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry. This night won't end without her eating dinner."

"Promise me you'll check on her? And let me know if she's okay?" she pleaded.

"I will," I said with a nod. "Now go rest. You've done enough for today."

She smiled, said goodnight, and headed for the living room. I went straight to my room, took a quick hot shower, dressed in something casual, and retrieved the spare key to Madeline's room from my drawer.

As I walked down the hallway, my steps quickened.

I opened her door slowly and slipped inside.

The sight of her hit me like a punch to the chest.

She was lying curled up on the bed, still in her clothes. Her dress had ridden slightly up her legs, revealing her knees and part of her thigh—but there was no seduction in the image. Only exhaustion. Her face was pale, her lips parted in sleep, and her hands were tucked beneath her cheek.

I sat beside her quietly, afraid to wake her. She looked so fragile, so drained. My throat tightened at the sight of her.

Then I saw her hands.

Her knuckles were raw and red.

My breath caught. She really did wash all that laundry.

I took her hand gently in mine. It was soft, yet slightly roughened from the day's labor. She didn't stir. I brought her fingers to my lips, pressing a soft kiss against her bruised skin—ashamed of the pain she had endured under my family's roof.

This wasn't what I promised her father. This isn't what she deserves.

I got up, walked to her dresser, and found a bottle of lotion. Sitting beside her again, I applied a small amount to her palm and began to gently massage the lotion into her skin. She stirred slightly and stretched her arm, but didn't wake.

She must be truly exhausted to sleep through this.

I stared at her face for a long while, conflicted. I didn't want her to see me like this—to know how deeply I was starting to care. It would only confuse her. And it would only make this arrangement more complicated than it already was.

Still, the guilt gnawed at me. I had let this happen. I had turned a blind eye for too long.

I stood, pressed a final glance at her peaceful form, and walked out, closing the door silently behind me.

But sleep wouldn't come easily tonight.

Instead, I marched to the living room, where the sound of conversation drifted through the air. My parents were there—along with my siblings. For once, they were all present.

Good.

Because it was time they heard me—loud and clear.

"Good evening, Dad. Mom," I greeted as I stepped into the living room.

Everyone turned their attention to me. Lily's face lit up as she jumped off the couch and ran to me, throwing her arms around my waist. I smiled and ruffled her dark brown hair, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Hunter," my mother said, a little surprised. "I didn't know you'd be home early tonight."

"I planned to spend the night out, but I changed my mind." I looked around the room slowly, making sure they were all listening. "I was eager to see my future wife—but apparently, she's asleep. Exhausted. I checked on her and noticed her fingers were swollen and red. It looks like she had some sort of reaction. Maybe to detergent. Or maybe…" I paused, narrowing my eyes slightly, "she overworked herself doing chores that weren't hers to begin with."

My mother sat straighter, her smile fading.

"I asked you to look after Madeline," I continued, trying to keep my voice even. "We have staff for a reason. She shouldn't be doing laundry by hand or running after the family like some maid. She's here because she's going to be my wife. I told you all that. She's free to do as she pleases, not because she's entitled—but because she deserves respect."

My mother raised a brow, her voice clipped but composed. "She insisted on helping, Hunter. No one forced her. In fact, I thought it was admirable. She's a hardworking girl. You should be proud."

I exhaled slowly. Too tired for a fight, I told myself—but my frustration was simmering.

"I am proud of her," I said. "Which is why I want to treat her like a queen. Not a servant."

Lily beamed again. But from the corner of my eye, I saw Charlotte shift on the couch, clearly agitated.

"Hunter," she began, voice laced with judgment. "Why her, of all people? You could have chosen someone who fits into our world. Someone… appropriate. I have friends, real women of class, and yet you chose her?"

My eyes darkened. "Watch your mouth, Charlotte," I snapped. "I chose Madeline. That's final. No one—and I mean no one—gets to question that. I will marry her, and the sooner you all accept that, the better."

I hadn't intended to raise my voice. But hearing them talk about Maddie like she was beneath them set something off in me. It wasn't just about duty anymore. It was about protecting her—something I hadn't realized I cared about this deeply until now.

My father cleared his throat, leaning forward. "Son, you're of age, and we've supported your decisions. But we never expected you to settle for someone so… beneath your upbringing."

I turned to him slowly, heart pounding, but my voice calm. "With all due respect, Dad, I've let you make most of my life decisions. You picked my schools, my cars, even my friends. But not this. Not her."

A stunned silence fell over the room.

"I kept my mouth shut when you made me walk away from Rebecca," I said, the name scraping against something raw inside me. "You never accepted her. You saw her as a stain on our perfect image, something that didn't belong. And I—" I hesitated, my voice tightening. "I lost the only girl I ever truly loved. And the worst part? I let you. Because I was young. Because I was too eager to be the son you wanted instead of the man I needed to be."

My jaw tightened as I fought the memories clawing their way back.

"You didn't even give me time to grieve," I said, voice low. "You shoved responsibility into my hands and told me to forget her. But I never did."

I looked my father straight in the eye. "You wanted me to take over the company right after graduation. You didn't ask. You begged. You said I was ready, but I wasn't. I wanted to see the world, live a little, breathe without being monitored. But I said yes because I was afraid of losing your approval."

I paused, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us. "And because of that… I lost her. And you lost your grandchild."

Gasps echoed around the room. My mother's hand flew to her chest. My father's face turned pale. Even Charlotte was speechless.

"I don't like talking about the past," I muttered. "But I won't let it repeat. Not with Madeline."

I turned away, slipping my hands into my pockets, trying to breathe through the storm inside me. "She's not perfect, but she's good. And she's kind. And she deserves a life better than this."

I walked toward the hallway, my back to them. "I just want something I can finally call mine. A choice. A life. And maybe… a little peace."

And as I left the room, I knew—this wasn't just about making things right for Madeline. It was about reclaiming the parts of myself I had buried to please everyone else.