SIDDHII

Title: The Maddox Misconception
—a rich, messy, slow-burn drama soaked in secrets, obsession, and the kind of love that ruins and redeems.



Sky Maddox is thirty-two, filthy rich, drop-dead gorgeous—and a single mom to the most unattainable boy in school. Everyone assumes she’s Sebastian’s sister, his sugar mama, or his way-too-young stepmom. But the truth? She’s his mother. The kind who still asks if he’s eaten, sends him “I love you” texts mid-class, and believes her baby boy is the sweetest soul on earth.

But Sebastian Maddox—eighteen, six-foot-two, emotionally unavailable and devastatingly hot—is living a secret double life. He smokes. He rides a bike. He clubs. He hooks up with a new girl every weekend. And behind Sky’s back, he's becoming the one person she never recovered from:

Rain Chen.

The man who left her the moment she got pregnant. The man who taught Sebastian everything he shouldn’t be. The man who just walked back into their lives like a storm, aged like sin and dangerous as ever.

And Rain? He doesn’t want redemption. He wants Sky. He wants control. He wants to shatter the bond between mother and son just to prove that he still can. Because nothing infuriates him more than seeing Sky love Sebastian the way she once loved him.

As secrets spill, old wounds reopen, and love is twisted into rivalry, Sky must confront a brutal truth:

The boy she raised may be the shadow of the man who broke her.

And the biggest misconception of all?
That the Maddox family isn’t already falling apart.

The Maddox Misconception

I remember the lights. The pounding in my head. The taste of old whiskey and that girl's lipstick still smeared somewhere on my collar.

"You want to be nothing like me? Then stop acting like me."

The name means nothing and everything all at once.

I keep seeing his face every time I blink. The smug curl of his mouth. The way he said son like it tasted rotten and he enjoyed every bite.

He looked at me like he'd already read the final page of my story.

The wind cuts through my hoodie like razors as I stagger up our brownstone's steps. It's dead quiet. Most lights are off except one—the kitchen.

I open the door softly. Try not to make a sound.

She's in the kitchen, curled up on the breakfast nook bench, arms folded, head resting gently against the window. A single dish sits on the table, covered in foil, still warm.

Even now, even after I've gone off the rails, crashed and burned and kissed strangers in bathrooms and smoked like I had nothing left to lose—

She's still waiting up with dinner.

My eyes sting and I tell myself it's just the cold.

I walk quietly, step by step, hoping not to wake her. I peel off my jacket, toss it aside, and pause in the hallway where I can't see her face, but I can hear her soft breathing.

Like she's waiting for something bad to happen.

I press my back to the wall. Close my eyes.

That bastard's voice echoes again.

"If you don't tell her the truth, I will."

And the thing is—I don't even know what the truth is.

Is he the reason she never talks about my father? The reason she changed schools, cities, names?

I head upstairs. My hands shake as I brush my teeth, as I strip out of my smoke-stained shirt and throw it in the laundry like that's going to wash away the shame. My reflection stares back at me in the bathroom mirror—bloodshot eyes, a bruised neck, a liar.

I want to punch a wall. I want to cry. I want to tell her everything and scream until she makes it stop—but instead, I just stand there like a fucking coward and whisper:

Waiting for the truth to shatter the only person who still loves me like I'm worth saving.

Bloodline