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 door creaked when I stepped in.

And for a second—just a second—I thought no one was home.

Just this soft sound—like someone was crumbling in slow motion.

I turned the corner into the kitchen.

She was sitting on the cold marble floor.

Tears dripping down her chin and onto her cardigan. Her cardigan—this soft, baby-blue one she wears when she's trying to look okay even when she's not.

Like she'd been drowning without even realizing it.

I stepped forward, heart punching through my ribs. "Mom, what—?"

She stood. Fast. Pulled me into her arms before I could finish the sentence.

She hugged me so tightly I almost couldn't breathe.

And she cried. And cried. And cried.

Then again. And again. Like a prayer.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm a bad mom. I'm sorry. I'm trying—I swear I'm trying—I'm a bad mom, I'm so sorry."

I froze. My hands hovered in the air before I finally touched her hair.

My throat went dry. My gut twisted with something uglier than guilt.

Because I should've been the one apologizing.

I'm the one who's been riding like I've got a death wish.

I'm the one who sneaks back in reeking of smoke, thinking she's too soft to notice.

Like she's the villain in the story I wrote.

"I love you," I said, barely more than a whisper.

Her fingers dug into my shirt like she didn't believe me.

"Mom," I breathed, resting my chin on her head. "You're not a bad mom."

My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "Did someone come here?"

I Should Be The One Saying Sorry