My Darling Ex-Wife Is Unaware I’m Rich

Chapter 15: Echoes Of The Past

Maxwell stepped out of the room, his footsteps echoing faintly as he walked beside Marcus toward the hospital's main entrance.

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Marcus asked, his voice low but firm.

“I’ll be fine. Just need some time to think,” Maxwell replied with a faint smile.

Marcus nodded but didn’t leave it to chance. As he walked toward his car, he gave a subtle signal to one of the guards stationed nearby. The man nodded, understanding his silent instruction to keep a watchful eye on Maxwell while maintaining a discreet distance.

Maxwell turned back into the hospital, his steps unhurried as he let his thoughts wander. The events of the past few weeks had transformed him into someone else. He was a man with purpose now, carrying the confidence of someone who had climbed out of the abyss, stronger and more determined than ever.

As he rounded a corner, a faint hum drew his attention. By the vending machine stood a familiar figure. Her frame was smaller than he remembered—it was Fiona, his ex-mother-in-law.

The sight of her brought a flood of memories. Maxwell’s mind flashed back to the days when he was a struggling young man, married to Emma. Fiona had wielded her wealth and influence like a weapon, never hesitating to belittle him at every opportunity. But now, things were different. He was a different Maxwell.

He approached quietly, his shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. Fiona glanced up, her face hardening the moment their eyes met.

“Maxwell,” she said, her tone sharp and dismissive. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Taking a walk,” he replied evenly.

“You know Emma is here, so why would you be here? Not that it’s any of your business anymore,” she snapped.

His heart clenched at the mention of Emma. They hadn’t spoken since the divorce. “How is she?” he asked, his voice calm despite the whirlwind of emotions stirring within.

Fiona scoffed. “As if you care. Don’t pretend you have any concern for her after what you did.”

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. “What I did? Or what you assumed I would never be capable of doing?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she faltered. The man standing before her was no longer the meek son-in-law she could demean at will. He exuded quiet confidence, an air of power that unsettled her.

“Don’t play games with me. You’re still the same, Maxwell—a nobody,” she said, trying to make him feel beneath her.

He smiled—a slow, knowing smile that only seemed to unnerve her further. “Believe what you like, Fiona. But tell me, is Emma being well cared for?”

“Of course, she is. She’s my daughter. Not that it’s any concern of yours,” Fiona said, though her voice had lost some of its earlier venom.

Maxwell didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned to the vending machine, casually purchasing a bottle of water. Fiona watched him warily, as though expecting him to retaliate in some way.

“You’ve changed,” she muttered, almost to herself.

He turned to her, his expression thoughtful. “Yes, I have. And so have my priorities.”

Before Fiona could reply, Maxwell pulled out his phone and made a call to Marcus. Within moments, the chief of the medical board arrived.

“Mr. Maxwell, good to see you up and around. How are you feeling now?” the man greeted respectfully. Then he asked, “What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Krane, I’d like Emma to be moved to the exclusive wing,” Maxwell said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want her to have the best care available.”

Fiona bristled. “You can’t just waltz in here and—”

Dr. Krane raised a hand to stop her tirade. “Mrs. Hawthorn, the exclusive wing offers state-of-the-art facilities and around-the-clock specialized care. It would be in your daughter’s best interest,” he explained.

“But…” Fiona began, only to falter under the combined weight of Maxwell’s steady gaze and Dr. Krane’s calm explanation.

Maxwell turned to Fiona, his expression unreadable. “I’m not here to fight, Fiona. I simply want Emma to have the care she deserves. You can tell her I sent my best wishes.”

With that, he stepped away, leaving Fiona speechless by the vending machine.

As he walked alongside Dr. Krane, Maxwell’s demeanor shifted. “How is she, really?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“She’s stable, but the accident caused significant nerve damage. There’s partial paralysis in her left leg. With aggressive therapy and the right treatment plan, there’s hope for improvement,” Dr. Krane explained.

Maxwell nodded thoughtfully. “What do you recommend?”

Dr. Krane outlined a plan involving advanced physiotherapy, a potential surgery to address the nerve damage, and cutting-edge rehabilitation techniques. Maxwell listened intently, weighing every word.

“Make it happen. Whatever it takes,” Maxwell said.

“Of course, Mr. Maxwell,” Dr. Krane assured him.

As their conversation ended, Maxwell found himself looking out a window at the city below. His past with Emma was complicated, filled with pain and mistakes, but he couldn’t ignore the part of him that still cared. Helping her now wasn’t about rekindling old flames. It was about doing what was right.

The hospital halls seemed quieter as he made his way back to his room. The weight of the encounter lingered, but there was also a sense of closure. Maxwell wasn’t the man Fiona once belittled, nor was he the broken soul Emma had left behind.

He heard a couple whispering and chuckling downstairs, below the window where he stood.

“You know, they say he’s some big shot, but apparently only Dr. Krane knows about him,” he heard them say. It was a couple of nurses who were on call that night.

“Well, I don’t consider myself a big shot, but I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you,” he said loud enough for them to hear.

They became silent, the fear of being reported to Dr. Krane overwhelming them. They got up and began to walk away when he called out to them to come back.

“Is there any place around here with a decent burger? I’m sort of famished,” Maxwell said.

The female nurse responded and recommended a drive-in restaurant not too far from the hospital premises. He thanked them, and they left.

“Well, you heard them. Grab me a cheeseburger, some fries, and a chocolate milkshake,” Maxwell said to the guard who had been following him.

Maxwell had noticed him earlier but decided to act oblivious to avoid alarming Dr. Krane. “Come here. What’s your name? I’m sure Marcus put you up to this. Don’t worry—I won’t get you in trouble,” Maxwell said.

The guard approached slowly, a bit ashamed of being discovered. “I’m Jackson, sir,” he said.

Maxwell assessed him with a sharp gaze. “I take it you joined the ranks not too long ago?” he asked.

Jackson hesitated before replying, “My father worked for your dad. He passed away the night they raided your ancestral manor.”

Maxwell’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “The raid,” he repeated, the weight of those words pulling him into a tide of buried memories. His voice dropped, steady but sharp. “Tell me, Jackson—who led that raid?”

The guard hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one else was listening. “It wasn’t random, sir. Someone... someone from the inside betrayed your family.”

Maxwell’s pulse quickened, the air around him seeming to thicken. “Who?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Jackson lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think you already know.”