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 didn't expect the rage either. The fire, the spit, the conviction.

Not from the boy I thought was just a mirror—my echo, just younger, more naive. A ticking clock before he self-destructed like I did.

When he slammed me into that wall, my ribs rattled with more than pain. For the first time in years, I felt something I didn't know I still could.

Not because he could hurt me—please, I've taken worse hits.

But because he didn't crack when I told him the truth.

Because I threw her love back in his face, told him how weak she looked crawling after me with voicemails and messages and that stupid newborn in her arms—

I saw her eyes in him for the first time.

Her fire. Her grief. Her goddamn strength.

I laughed when he walked out—but it didn't echo.

I sat back down in the broken glass and finished what was left of the bourbon, blood in my mouth, silence in the room.

She always begged me not to drink when I was angry.

She'd whisper, "Please, Rain. I love you."

Something I Can’t Control