Chapter 7: The Walls Come Down

“I’ve made a grave mistake, Maximilian.”

The words hang in the air like an echo that refuses to dissipate. I feel the tension in the room shift, the air thick with something far darker than I’ve ever felt between us. Maximilian’s face pales, his eyes narrowing as the figure from his past steps into the room. I don’t recognize the man, but there’s an undeniable weight to his presence, something about him that screams power—a dangerous kind of power that Maximilian must know all too well.

The man looks at Maximilian like a predator sizing up its prey. And Maximilian? He stands motionless, his jaw clenched, his usually stoic demeanor cracking in the presence of this stranger.

I take a step back, my pulse racing as I try to make sense of what’s happening. Who is this man? And why does Maximilian look like he’s seen a ghost?

“Who is this?” I ask my voice barely a whisper. But Maximilian doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps his gaze locked on the man, the walls of his emotional fortress instantly rising once again. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and the cold, unyielding Maximilian I’ve known since our marriage is back—unreachable, untouchable.

“Eliza,” he says, his voice low and strained, “I need you to leave. Now.”

I freeze, my mind racing. His words sting more than I care to admit. It’s as if the connection we’ve started to form over the past few weeks—the tentative trust, the understanding, the unspoken bond—is being ripped away in an instant. But the stranger—this man—won’t let it happen.

“Don’t you dare, Maximilian,” the man growls, his voice dripping with contempt. “I’m not here to deal with your cold facade, or to let you push this woman away. She deserves the truth. Both of you do.”

Truth. The word hangs between us like a blade ready to fall, but I don’t understand what it means yet.

The man steps forward, his eyes never leaving Maximilian’s. There’s history here. A lot of it. And it’s clear it’s not the kind of history anyone wants to face.

Maximilian turns to face me now, his eyes sharp, his expression unreadable. “Eliza,” he begins, but his voice falters for the first time since I’ve known him. There’s a crack in his armor, a subtle, but undeniable crack. “I—”

But before he can continue, the man interrupts him with a cruel laugh.

“Do you really think she doesn’t deserve to know, Maximilian?” the stranger taunts. “Do you think she’s too naïve to understand who you really are?”

My heart pounds in my chest, my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears. I want to understand. I need to. But the more I hear, the more confused I become.

“Enough,” Maximilian snaps, his voice cold and unyielding once again. “Leave her out of this.”

But the man isn’t backing down.

“She’s already in it, Maximilian,” the man says. “Whether you like it or not.”

A cold silence fills the room, thick with tension and unspoken truths. My mind races as I watch Maximilian struggle with something I can’t quite comprehend. Who is this man to him? What is so terrible that Maximilian is afraid to let me see?

“You don’t know the whole story, Eliza,” Maximilian finally says, his voice raw, as the weight of the words he’s about to speak will break him. “But if you want to know… if you’re willing to hear the truth, then stay.”

I want to ask him what truth he’s talking about, to demand an explanation, but the words won’t come. Instead, I nod, my throat tight as I try to prepare myself for whatever comes next. I’ve never seen Maximilian like this before—so vulnerable, so… human.

The man steps back, but his presence is still palpable, a shadow that looms over us.

Maximilian looks at me with eyes that are no longer cold but filled with something else—a rawness that I’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice cracks, and for a moment, I think he might not say anything at all. I wait, my breath held, the silence between us stretching, pulling tighter by the second.

Finally, he speaks.

“I wasn’t always like this, Eliza,” he says, his voice steady now, though I can hear the deep regret in his words. “I didn’t… I didn’t start out as this man, this ruthless businessman. I wasn’t born with walls like this. I wasn’t born cold.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. “Then what happened?”

His eyes flicker to the man, and I see something pass between them—something dark, something painful. For a moment, it feels like a different lifetime, like the man standing before us is the key to unlocking a past I didn’t even know existed.

Maximilian takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. “I grew up in a world that didn’t care about kindness, Eliza. I grew up in a world that taught me how to survive, how to fight, how to win. And in the process, I lost everything that mattered.”

I take a tentative step closer to him, my heart aching for the pain in his voice. “What do you mean?”

The words come slower now like they’re difficult for him to say, but they’re coming nonetheless.

“I had a family once, Eliza,” he continues, his voice growing quieter. “I had a mother who loved me. But she was taken from me, and my father… my father taught me how to hate, how to fear. He showed me that weakness was something to be eradicated, and that love was a liability. And I grew up believing him.”

I don’t know what to say. I want to comfort him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t have to carry all that pain alone. But the weight of his confession makes me hesitate. It’s so much more than I ever thought I’d learn about him.

“I was forced to become what I am today, Eliza,” Maximilian says, his eyes looking far away now, as if he’s reliving the past in that very moment. “I had to do whatever it took to survive, to protect myself. But it came at a cost.”

The cost of his soul. I want to say it, but I can’t. Instead, I simply nod, trying to absorb his words, trying to understand the man standing before me.

“And the man who’s standing here?” Maximilian says, his voice laced with bitterness. “He’s the one who made me this way.”

The stranger. The man who’s been standing silently, watching us this entire time, suddenly steps forward again. His eyes lock with Maximilian’s, and I can see the pain in them—pain that mirrors the depth of Maximilian’s own.

“You’re not the only one who suffered, Maximilian,” the man says, his voice low and heavy with accusation. “But I’m not the one who hides from it.”

Maximilian’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. I can feel the tension in the room escalate as the two men face each other, like two forces locked in a battle neither of them can escape.

“Enough,” Maximilian snaps, turning away from the man, his back now to both of us. “I won’t do this. I won’t—”

But the man’s voice stops him cold.

“Then tell her, Maximilian,” the man challenges. “Tell her everything. Or you’ll lose her forever.”

The words strike me like a slap, and suddenly everything I thought I knew about Maximilian—the man I’ve been living with, the man I’ve begun to care for—feels like it’s slipping away, unraveling in front of me.

I turn to Maximilian, my heart pounding in my chest. “Tell me the truth, Maximilian. Tell me what you’re hiding.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I think he might finally open up. But then something flickers in his eyes, something cold and distant. “I’m not the man you think I am, Eliza,” he admits, his voice strained, almost broken.

I swallow, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “Then who are you?” I whisper, my voice trembling as the weight of his confession hangs heavy in the air.