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another soft moan of complaint, as she held her hand to her head. “Oh God.” She sighed, as she turned on her side and lay her head on the bed, her back to him. “Everything’s spinning. It’s moving so fast.” She cried, tears falling silently, as Maxx ran his hand over her hair.
    “Hadley,” his voice was almost pleading, “there’s nothing I can do. The doctor just said you had a migraine and had fainted. I…I don’t know what else to do,” he said, as she turned onto her other side and held his hand in hers.
    She closed her eyes and continued to cry.

    It was a full two hours later when the world stopped dead. Hadley opened her eyes and saw that Maxx was still sitting with her, gently playing with her hair. Sitting up, she offered him a smile.
    “Thank you for staying with me. I think it was just a really bad migraine.” She apologised for his worry, now able to see sense.
    Maxx nodded without commenting and stayed quiet for a long time.
    Hadley couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted staying with her, looking after her, letting her see his softer side. Was it all one giant mistake, because he thought she was too sick to remember?
    “What will you do, if you leave?” Maxx asked, as though there was still a chance that she might stay.
    She wanted to smack some sense into him, but didn’t bother. She took a deep breath and thought about his question properly. What would she do with herself?
    “Maybe go to school,” she admitted, since she’d never been to a proper school. As soon as Emerson took her in, she’d been home schooled, along with Maxx. Micah got the special treatment and went to a public school. By the time Maxx went off to college, or work, she’d already spent a few years working for Emerson.
    He’d never insisted on it, but she felt indebted to him. There had been no one else to take her in, after her parents died, and Emerson only did it because her father was the son of one of his old, long dead friends. He insisted that it was his duty to care for her as his own child, but she’d never been able to accept charity. Not even from Emerson.
    “I might go to art school. Finally,” Hadley decided, since that was something that had always interested her.
    Maxx scoffed and she looked up sharply, ready to tell him to shove off, if he was going to degrade her dreams. “You don’t need art school. You could probably sell your work the way it is, to some big collector in New York,” he claimed with a faint smile.
    She blushed, as she realised he was paying her a compliment. But it didn’t change anything. It was too little, too late, and it wasn’t as if his kindness meant anything. “I could volunteer at the local museum. They’re always looking for help and it would be something to put on a CV,” she admitted, thoughtfully. “Then, once I’ve saved up enough, I can try to repay your father for being so kind to me.”
    “You intend to pay him back? For the last twenty years? Why? You don’t owe him anything,” Maxx argued, as though she was wrong to feel the way she did. Well, he could take his father’s money and everything Emerson had built at work, to use as his own, but she wouldn’t.
    “I owe him everything,” Hadley corrected him.
    Maxx went quiet for a moment, with a look that said he was reluctantly accepting that she might be right, but that he didn’t have to like it. “How would you like to have a paid job, right away?” he offered, out of the blue.
    “Working for you or your father’s company?” Hadley guessed, shocked that he would even consider it. What the hell was he thinking?
    “Yes. I’m desperately in need of a PA. I’m sure you’d do quite well in the position,” he claimed, with a faint hint of a smile.
    She guessed there was a deeper meaning there, but she was too tired and too drained from her migraine to understand it. And she was too pissed at his presumption, to cater to his selfish whim. “So, I leave this house, where I’m stifled