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

The glass shattered before I could stop him.

One second, Rain was digging into old wounds with a smile that could slice skin. The next, Sebastian's hands were trembling and the sharp crack of glass against tile rang out like thunder.

I don't know if it was the sound, or the look in his eyes—or the fact that for a split second, he looked like him.

Sebastian's chest was rising and falling in heavy, angry bursts. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight. And for the first time since he was a baby in my arms—I didn't know how to reach him.

I wanted to scream at him. Kick him out. Tear him to pieces.

And my son was falling apart in front of me.

I stepped forward slowly, barefoot on cold tile, careful not to touch the glass.

I tried again, voice softer than air. "Baby, look at me."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then slowly, his eyes found mine.

He looked so young again. Like a boy. Like my boy.

"Please," I said, reaching out. "Don't let him win."

His lips parted like he wanted to say something—but nothing came out.

"You are not him," I whispered. "You are not him."

His hands shook as he lowered them. I took them into mine. Gently. Carefully. As if touching a storm.

"He wants this. He wants to twist you. To twist us." My throat burned. "But you're mine. And I know who you are."

His voice was barely a breath. "Mom…"

I pressed my forehead to his. "It's okay. It's okay. You don't have to say anything right now. Just stay. Just be here."

He collapsed into me, heavy and broken. And I held him, arms tight around my son like I could shield him from everything.

Even the man who gave him his blood.

Rain's steps echoed as he walked to the door. "Sweet reunion," he muttered. "Too bad love doesn't change DNA."

Don’t Let Him Win