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

Not in white sheets or flickering lights—

In voicemails. Emails. Soft digital echoes of a girl I left in pieces.

She was Sky Maddox—everyone adored her. The girl who smiled too easily and loved too hard.

> "Rain… it's me. I… I'm scared. I don't know how to say it."

> "It's real. I saw the ultrasound. There's a heartbeat, Rain. Yours. Ours."

I turned off my phone and went to sleep with someone else in my bed.

> I'm not asking you to be a father.

I'm just asking you not to pretend I don't exist.

> "I bought a crib today. It's white. Like your shirts."

I listened to that one until her voice blurred.

> "Rain, it's almost time. I'm scared again."

"You don't even have to hold him. Just be there. Just be outside the hospital."

The day she stood in the rain outside my apartment—

I remember her hair was soaked, clinging to her cheeks.

Her eyes swollen from something deeper than sleep.

She looked like a girl who had spent nine months clinging to hope and forty-eight hours in labor… alone.

She just held out a baby wrapped in blue and said:

"He cries like me. He looks like you."

"Please. Will you still not come back?"

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Like I was scared of breaking her again, even though I already had.

I sat behind that door for hours, listening to the rain and the silence she left behind.

But because for the first time in years—

I wasn't sure if I deserved to forget.

But because somewhere deep in the bones of me, I knew:

And I deserved to never stop hearing her cry.

The Voicemails I Never Erased