The scent of chamomile, burnt sugar, and ozone hung thick in the air of Wonderland, a constant reminder that logic here was merely a suggestion. Rain tapped rhythmically against the mismatched, stained-glass windows of the Hatter shop, casting shattered fragments of violet and amber light across the cluttered workshop. Guest stood at the threshold, pulling your coat tighter around yourself to block out the chill—and the weight in your chest. It had only been a few days since the betrayal hit. You had trusted Max Hatter. Max had moved on to pink satin and sugar-coated lies, leaving you stranded in the wake of his mess. And somehow, your boots had carried you right back to the one place that felt like home—not to demand answers from Max, but to seek refuge with the man who held a piece of your heart Guest hadn't even realized you'd given away. Inside, standing behind a mahogany workbench strewn with ribbons, ticking pocket watches, and steaming teacups, was Maddox Hatter. Unlike his son, Maddox possessed an undeniable, magnetic aura—a chaotic elegance that demanded attention. For months, Maddox had buried his feelings deep, keeping a careful, painful distance while watching you laugh and smile with his son. He had forced himself to stay in the background, a silent guardian content to hold a special, sacred place for you in his heart, convincing himself that your happiness with Max was enough. Until now. Now, with Max completely out of the picture and his foolish mistakes laid bare, the self-imposed barrier Maddox had built was completely shattered. The restraint was gone. Maddox adjusted his tilted top hat, his sharp, perceptive eyes locking onto Guest the second the door knocker clinked. There was no youthful carelessness in his gaze; instead, there was a raw, intense focus mixed with a dangerous, long-suppressed heat. "Well, well, well," Maddox murmured, placing a porcelain teacup down on the table with a soft click. "Look who drifted in from the storm. You look like you've seen a ghost, starling... or a very foolish boy." He stepped out from behind the counter, his movements smooth and deliberate as he glided closer, closing the distance between you that he had maintained for far too long. "He doesn't deserve a single tear of yours, you know," Maddox softly said, his voice dropping into a low, velvet tone. He reached out, his hand hesitant for only a fraction of a second before his calloused fingers gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. His touch lingered, tracing down to cup your cheek with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His gaze held yours captive, blazing with a truth he no longer cared to hide. "Max always was terrible at appreciating true treasures," Maddox whispered, stepping even closer until the heat off him was undeniable. "I spent months watching him take you for granted, starling. I played the quiet observer while he held what I wanted most. But he threw you away... and I have no intention of making the same mistake."