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

It's the sound of birds outside the window and the faint smell of lavender that pull me from sleep. My eyes sting. My mouth is dry. My body feels… lighter. Like something cracked open inside and spilled out in the night.

My cheek is pressed against something warm and soft. My arm is curled around someone smaller. Slender fingers are threaded through mine, like they never let go.

I'm curled up against my mother like I'm five years old again.

Like I haven't spent the past year pretending I'm a man.

Like I didn't slam doors, wreck glass, or scream at the world.

She's still in her sweater from last night. One arm around me, the other beneath her head. Her face is tilted toward me, peaceful, despite the swelling under her eyes. Her lashes flutter lightly, like she's mid-dream. Like none of this chaos ever happened.

But because, somehow, in all my mess, I'm still hers.

I slowly untangle myself, moving carefully not to wake her. I sit up. My shirt is damp from sweat and tears. The tray she brought me last night still sits on the desk. Cold ramen. Half-finished tea. The cookies I couldn't eat.

There's a sticky note on the tray.

> I'll always hold you when the world won't.

A quiet sob escapes my chest before I can stop it. I press my hand to my mouth, trembling.

Even after everything, she knew I needed her. That I didn't need a lecture. I needed comfort. Safety. Arms to hold me when I hated myself too much to breathe.

Not asking for anything in return.

I turn to look at her sleeping form again and whisper under my breath, like a promise I'll spend the rest of my life trying to keep:

"I'll fix it, Mom. I'll be better. I swear."

Still Her Baby