Chapter 1:
Shadows of Bel Air
The sun had begun to set on a cold November evening, casting a bruised sky of deep purple and muted gold over the city. The lights of downtown Los Angeles flickered on one by one, fighting against the encroaching darkness, much like the people who lived beneath them. Somewhere among those lights, tucked away in the office of the Blue Moon Detective Agency, David Addison sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with an uneasiness that had settled into his bones for weeks.
He was staring at the ceiling, his fingers absently drumming the edge of a case file, though he hadn't flipped it open all day. His mind wasn't on work. His mind, as usual, was on her. Maddie.
He hadn't seen her in days, and when he did, she barely looked at him. Her blond hair, once meticulously styled, had been pulled back in a haphazard bun. She had shown up late, moved through the office like a ghost, and left without so much as a word to anyone. Maddie Hayes, the woman who always had a sharp retort, a fierce determination, and a presence that could command a room, was slipping through the cracks. And no one could reach her—not even him.
Not anymore.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see Agnes DiPesto hovering in the doorway, her face creased with worry. Agnes, always full of bright energy, now wore the same sombre expression that had taken over the office since Maddie's world had shattered.
"Mr. Addison?" she asked gently, stepping into the room with tentative steps. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
He straightened in his chair, folding his arms over his chest as though preparing for whatever bad news she might bring. "What's up?"
Agnes hesitated, her hands twisting together in a nervous knot. "It's about… Miss Hayes..."
Of course, it was about Miss Hayes. Everything was about Miss Hayes.
David sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Agnes, I've tried. She doesn't want me involved anymore. She made that pretty clear."
"I know, but…" Agnes bit her lip, as if searching for the right words. "I'm really worried about her, Mr. Addison. She's not—she's not herself. She's not talking to anyone. She hasn't been eating lunch, she leaves early, and—" Agnes' voice dropped, becoming more of a whisper. "I think she's been drinking."
David blinked, the words hitting him like a cold slap. "Drinking? Maddie?". He chuckled.
Agnes nodded, her brow furrowing. "I saw her leave a bottle of wine in the trash yesterday. And today, I could smell it on her breath."
David's stomach twisted uncomfortably. That wasn't Maddie. Maddie wasn't the type to drown her sorrows. She was the one who always stayed in control, who kept everything—and everyone—at arm's length. But Agnes was right. Lately, Maddie had been slipping, letting pieces of herself fall away, and David had been too angry—too hurt—to step in.
"She's not doing her job, Mr. Addison," Agnes continued, her voice filled with concern. "She's forgetting things, missing appointments, not even looking at the case files. She… she could not remember where she parked her car. I know this is none of my business Mr. Addison, but I think… I think Miss Hayes needs help. And she will not ask for it."
David leaned back in his chair again, staring past Agnes to the shadows stretching across the office floor. He knew Maddie wasn't herself. He'd seen it. Felt it. He'd watched her shut down ever since the miscarriage, ever since they'd lost… the baby.
Their baby.
The words echoed in his mind, a constant loop that had haunted him since that awful day in the hospital. He had stood there, helpless, as Maddie cried, the pain and grief swallowing her whole. And when it was over, when the nurses had left and the room was empty, she had turned her face away from him.
She had turned away from everything.
Agnes' voice pulled him back to the present. "Mr. Addison, please," she pleaded softly. "She's not talking to anyone, and I don't think she should be alone right now. I know things have been hard between you two, but maybe she needs you more than you realize."
David closed his eyes, fighting the bitter knot tightening in his chest. He didn't want to go to her. He didn't want to stand in front of that door again, knowing that she might shut him out all over. He had already knocked, so many times, only to be met with silence. But something in Agnes' voice—something in the way she said Maddie needed him—made him pause.
"Yeah," he said finally, his voice rough. "I'll check on her after work."
Agnes gave him a small, relieved smile. "Thank you, Mr. Addison."
He nodded, but there was no relief in his chest. Only a heavy weight of dread and unresolved pain.
It was dark by the time David pulled up in front of Maddie's house. The driveway was empty, save for her car, parked crookedly near the curb. There were no lights on inside, not even the dim glow from the hallway she usually left on.
He sat there for a moment, staring at the house as memories flickered through his mind—memories of long nights spent talking, laughing, fighting. Loving each other with so much passion. All of it seemed so far away now, like a dream from another life. A life before everything went wrong.
The cold November air bit at his skin as he stepped out of the car. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorbell. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to face whatever was on the other side of that door.
But he rang the bell anyway.
No answer.
He knocked, louder this time, his knuckles rapping against the wood in quick succession. "Maddie?" His voice sounded too loud in the quiet night. "It's me. Open up."
Still nothing.
David clenched his jaw, a familiar frustration bubbling up inside him. She was doing it again. Shutting him out. Shutting everyone out.
He fumbled for the key she'd given him months ago, back when they were… whatever they had been. More than business partners. More than friends. But now, less than everything.
The door clicked open, and David stepped inside. The house was cold, dark, and quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. He flipped on the hallway light, the sudden brightness revealing a stark mess. Shoes scattered across the floor; a jacket draped over a chair. The house, usually immaculate, looked as though it had been abandoned, like Maddie had stopped caring.
And maybe she had.
"Maddie?" he called again, stepping further into the living room.
The silence was heavy, oppressive, as if the house itself was suffocating under the weight of unspoken words. David crouched down and started picking up the scattered papers on the floor, shaking his head. Bills, notices, unopened mail. Everything neglected. Everything forgotten. There was a glass on the coffee table—half-filled with wine. Beside it, an open bottle.
David Addison stood in the living room, uninvited and very much aware of it. He hadn't heard from Maddie in days, and Agnes had been the one to make him come. But now that he was here, he regretted how much tension was already brewing between them. He had tried knocking, had tried calling out, but there had been no answer, and that gnawing concern in his gut had driven him to let himself in. And there he stood, feeling the weight of something unspoken in the air. This wasn't Maddie. This wasn't her house. The house he had known was polished, orderly, everything in its perfect place, just like Maddie. Now, it looked like the scene of some quiet devastation, as though a storm had passed through it, leaving behind pieces of a life that no longer fit together.
He had already picked up a few empty wine bottles, and straightened the coffee table. But the mess went deeper than that. It wasn't just about the physical disarray—the mess was Maddie herself. She had become someone else, someone he didn't recognize, and it tore at him in a way he wasn't prepared for.
David had heard it all from Agnes. The drinking. The withdrawing. Maddie pretending she was fine, that she could handle it on her own. But this? This was more than just avoidance. This was grief.
David took a deep breath, his chest tightening as he moved toward the dining room. The further he ventured into the house, the more he noticed the little things—dishes left to pile up, mail scattered across the kitchen counter, a stack of magazines left unread. But his eyes caught on something else. A small door, half-open, at the far end of the hall. His heart skipped a beat. He knew what room that was.
The nursery.
He hadn't been in there since… since before.
He swallowed hard, an anxious pulse pounding in his throat. Part of him wanted to turn around, leave the room untouched, leave her untouched. But he couldn't. Not anymore.
He stepped slowly toward the door, his fingers barely grazing the wood. And then, with a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
The small bedroom was dim, but enough light filtered in through the window to show him everything he didn't want to see.
The crib stood against the far wall, untouched, still draped with soft blankets, the mobile overhead hanging like a promise that was never kept. The walls, pale yellow, were adorned with little pastel stars, a reminder of the hope and excitement that had once filled this room. That had once filled them.
But what hit David the hardest wasn't the baby things. It was the fact that Maddie had been living here. The blankets on the small daybed were rumpled, and a glass of water sat on the nightstand next to a prescription bottle. It was clear—she had been sleeping here, in this room, surrounded by the very thing she was trying to escape. She wasn't just grieving. She was drowning.
David felt the weight of it in his chest, like the walls were pressing in on him. He leaned against the doorframe, his hand gripping the wood for support. This was his baby, too. He had lost just as much. But Maddie had shut him out after the miscarriage, pushed him away as if he wasn't part of it, as if his grief wasn't real.
She had pretended everything was okay. All this time, she had tried to carry on, wearing her professional mask, going through the motions of life, but this room told a different story. A story of a woman who hadn't moved on, who couldn't move on.
David's throat tightened as he stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the small space. His gaze fell on a tiny stuffed bear sitting in the crib, its button eyes staring back at him, a silent witness to her suffering. Her helplessness.
"David." Her voice cut through the air like a shard of glass, sharp and cold. She was standing in the hallway now, her silhouette barely visible against the dim light. She looked at him like he was an intruder—because he was.
The slight tremble in her posture was imperceptible to most, but David noticed. He always noticed the things she tried to hide.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice cut through the quiet like a knife, sharp and unyielding. David turned to see Maddie standing in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes dark with exhaustion and something else. Something harder to define.
David didn't flinch, though the look on her face told him to leave before things got ugly. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back slightly, trying to soften his presence in a place where he clearly wasn't wanted.
"I knocked. You didn't answer. Thought maybe you were—"
"You shouldn't be here, David." she said, her tone cold.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. They just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of the room pressing down on both of them.
"Maddie—" he started, his voice low, but she cut him off, her eyes flashing with anger.
"Get out."
David's jaw clenched. He knew she was hurting, but so was he. He couldn't let her push him away again. Not this time.
"I'm not leaving," he said simply, the stubbornness that often defined him creeping into his voice.
Her expression hardened. "I'm not asking."
"Yeah, well, you're not getting what you want this time." David's words came out more forcefully than he'd intended, and he cursed himself for not taking a softer approach. But it was Maddie. Their conversations had always walked a fine line between playful banter and barely restrained tension. And now, with everything between them frayed, it was like walking on glass.
She turned on her heel, heading toward the stairs, her posture rigid, every step determined to shut him out. "I said get out David. I don't have time for this."
David followed her, refusing to be dismissed. "Maddie, just stop for a second. I know you're hurting—"
"No, you don't!" she spun around, her voice louder now, the crack in it unmistakable. Her voice rising, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and something he couldn't quite place. Hurt, maybe. Fear? She didn't want him to see that. "You don't get to show up here and pretend like you care." Her hands flew up in frustration, her words dripping with accusation.
He stared at her, his jaw tightening. "I care. That's why I'm here."
"And you thought you could just walk in and that's it? Seriously? You don't know anything about what I'm feeling, David. Because you've been fine! Fine! You haven't cared for months!" Maddie's voice wavered, her composure fracturing. "Ever since—" She stopped, choking on the words she couldn't bring herself to say, the words that had haunted her every moment since the miscarriage.
David's heart clenched, but he kept his voice steady. "Ever since what, Maddie? Ever since you shut me out? Ever since you decided I didn't have a right to be part of this anymore?"
She stared at him, her breathing uneven, her hands shaking. "I didn't shut you out."
"Yeah, you did," he shot back, the bitterness slipping into his tone now. "You pretended everything was fine. You went back to work like nothing happened. Like we didn't happen. Like none of it meant a damn thing."
"Because I had to!" she cried, her voice breaking, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I had to keep going. What else was I supposed to do? Fall apart? Screw a married cousin of yours to clear the head, maybe?"
David flinched at that, her words cutting deep, but he didn't back down. "No, Maddie. You didn't have to fall apart. But you didn't have to do it alone either."
"But I was alone. You made sure of that."
Her breath hitched, and she turned away, her shoulders trembling as she gripped the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her upright. "I'm fine," she muttered, her voice barely audible, almost to herself now. "I'm fine."
David took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You're not fine, Maddie. Look at this place. Look at you."
She whipped around to face him, her eyes filled with a desperate kind of fury. "No. No. Don't do that. Don't stand there and make this about me, like I'm some sort of… of project you need to fix. I don't need your help."
"I'm not trying to fix you, Maddie," he said quietly, the intensity in his voice softening as he took another step toward her. "I'm trying to get you out of here. This house isn't doing you any good."
"What? This is my house. I'm not leaving." Her voice was firm, but her eyes betrayed her. She was crumbling, and they both knew it.
David clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to shake her, to make her see what he saw. "Maddie, you're not thinking straight. You... you shouldn't be alone right now."
"Why do you care?" she shot back, her voice sharp and brittle. "You're fine, David. You've moved on. You're not the one sitting here with nothing left—"
"You think I haven't lost something too?" David's voice cracked, and he closed the space between them in a few angry steps, his eyes blazing with an intensity that stopped her mid-sentence.
Maddie's eyes widened, but she stayed silent, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as he continued.
"You wanna know why I care, Maddie?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper; his jaw clenched tight. "Because I am your —"
"My what." Maddie's anger cut like a dagger.
David stood there, staring at her in the eye. "Because I am your business associate. Your... partner." Silence between them. "Your... your friend."
His voice grew rougher, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "The father of your child."
The silence that followed was deafening. Maddie's face went pale, her lips parting in shock, her eyes searching his as if she hadn't truly believed he'd say it out loud. That he'd claim it. The room seemed to shrink around them, and the distance between them, though mere inches, felt like miles.
"David…" Her voice was a broken whisper now, her anger slipping away, replaced by raw vulnerability, by the pain she'd been hiding so deeply. She turned her face away from him, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.
David took a step back, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain control of his own emotions. He hadn't meant to go there. He hadn't meant to lay it all bare like that. But there it was, hanging in the air between them. Too late to take it back.
He exhaled; his voice softer but filled with a quiet desperation. "Maddie, I lost that baby too. You think I didn't feel it? You think I don't still feel it? Every day? You shut me out like I didn't matter, like I wasn't part of it, but I was. I am."
Her face crumpled, her hands trembling as she tried to hold herself together. "David… I can't… I don't know how to… I just…" She trailed off, choking on her own words.
"You don't have to know how," he said gently, stepping closer to her again. "But you can't stay here. Not like this. You're not okay, and it's okay to admit that. But staying in this house… it's tearing you apart."
Maddie wiped at her face angrily, her pride still clinging to what little strength she had left. "I don't need you to save me." She closed her eyes, her breath shaky as she tried to rein in the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
"I'm not trying to save you, Maddie," David said, his voice barely above a whisper now, but firm. "But I'm not gonna stand by and watch you fall apart either."
"I can't leave."
"You can." His tone was resolute, but not harsh. He was pleading with her, begging her to see reason. "You don't have to do this alone. Not anymore."
"I don't know how to be around you… not anymore, not like this," she whispered, her eyes fluttering open, raw and filled with fear. "I wouldn't know how to let you back in."
David's heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice, the quiet admission of everything she had been too proud to say. He stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch her arm.
"You don't have to know how," he repeated softly. "We'll figure it out."
Her eyes flashed at his words, but this time, instead of anger, there was something else—something like exhaustion. She was tired. So, so tired of pretending.
He crossed the room, standing in front of her now, close enough to see the dark circles under her eyes, the pale complexion of her usually vibrant face. "Maddie, talk to me."
Still, no response.
David's frustration surged, the weight of his own pain bubbling to the surface. "This isn't you, Maddie. This hiding. This drinking." He gestured to the mess around them. "You're not like this."
"I don't know what I am anymore," she whispered, her voice so soft, so broken.
For a long moment, they just stood there, the weight of their shared grief filling the space between them. And then, slowly, Maddie looked away, her voice so quiet he almost didn't hear her.
"Get out. Please." She wasn't fighting him; she was fighting herself. David could see it. "You don't belong here, David. This is my life. My mess. I don't need you barging in and—"
"Maddie—"
"I said, get out!" she shouted this time, her voice cracking. Her chest heaved as she pointed toward the door.
David ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, torn between wanting to shake her out of this and wanting to hold her.
"Get out!" she screamed, the sound raw and jagged. Her voice broke on the last word, and David could see the tears she was fighting to hold back. She was unravelling, right there in front of him.
He stared at her for a long moment, his chest aching. She was so defiant, even when she was crumbling, trying so hard to push him away. And it killed him. But he'd learned long ago that there were battles you couldn't win—not with Maddie, not with her pride.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice tight. "You want me to leave? I'll leave."
Maddie stood frozen, arms wrapped tightly around herself as David opened the door and stepped out into the cold November night. The wind bit at his face, but he barely felt it as he started toward his car, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him—the frustration of trying, again and again, only to be met with walls he couldn't tear down. Why did he even bother? Why did he always come back, thinking things would be different?
"Damn it, Maddie," he muttered to himself, "Goddammit!"
As he reached the car, he patted his jacket pockets, searching for his keys. His stomach sank as he realized they weren't there. He'd left them inside. Of course. Perfect. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse.
Grumbling under his breath, David turned and headed back toward the house. He didn't want to go back in, didn't want to face Maddie again after that fight, but there was no other option. When he reached the front door, he hesitated. Maybe he should go around the side of the house, knock on the glass near the kitchen, and ask her to toss the keys out. At least that way, he wouldn't have to walk back into the storm of emotions inside.
David made his way around the side of the house, stepping lightly across the wet grass until he reached the kitchen window. He peered through the glass, about to knock—and froze.
Inside, Maddie was no longer standing tall and defiant. She was on the floor, leaning back against the wall, her body curled in on itself as she held her knees close to her chest. Her face was buried in her arms, and she was shaking, her body trembling as sobs wracked through her. She was gasping for breath, her whimpers so soft and broken that David felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest just watching her.
She looked so small. So fragile. So broken.
David couldn't move. He had seen Maddie angry. He had seen her frustrated, exasperated, even devastated. But this… this was different. This was Maddie completely undone, lost, shattered. Even after all the pain they had caused each other, after all the walls she had built between them, seeing her like this was more than he could bear.
Without thinking, David turned and rushed back to the front door, pulling his wallet from his pocket. His hands trembled as he fished out the stickpin he always carried, quickly jamming it into the lock. The door clicked open, and he slipped inside, his heart pounding as he made his way toward the kitchen.
Maddie didn't hear him at first, too lost in her grief, too overwhelmed by the storm inside her. But as David stepped into the room, she looked up, her tear-streaked face full of shock. She scrambled to her feet, wiping at her eyes, trying desperately to regain some sense of dignity, though it was clear she was a mess. Her hair was dishevelled, her cheeks flushed from crying, and her eyes—her beautiful, blue eyes—were swollen and red.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice shaky and broken. "I told you to leave!"
David didn't answer right away. He just stared at her, his heart aching as he took in the sight of her. She was falling apart in front of him, and he couldn't stand it.
"I left," David said quietly, his voice surprisingly calm despite the chaos inside him. "But I forgot my car keys here."
Maddie's breath hitched, and she shook her head, trying to hold herself together, though it was clear she was barely hanging on. "You shouldn't have come back."
David took a step closer, his voice soft but firm. "Maddie… I'm not leaving you like this."
"I don't need you to take care of me," she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual bite. She was exhausted—emotionally, physically—and David could see it. She was fighting, but she didn't have the strength left.
"I'm getting you out of this house." David said, his voice steady.
Maddie's eyes widened, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. "I'm not going anywhere."
David took another step toward her, his tone unyielding. "Yes, you are. I'm taking you out of here. You can't stay in this mess, Maddie. It's killing you."
Maddie shook her head, backing up against the counter as if trying to find some way to regain control.
David's gaze hardened, and his voice dropped, full of quiet intensity. "Don't make me drag you out, Maddie. I will if I have to."
Maddie's eyes filled with tears again, her body trembling as she tried to stand her ground. "You wouldn't..."
The room was heavy with silence, the weight of David's words settling between them like a final blow. Maddie stood there, her chest heaving as she fought to maintain what little composure she had left. But she was out of fight. She was out of strength.
Finally, with a small, defeated nod, Maddie whispered, "Fine."
David exhaled slowly, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he gently guided her toward the door. He didn't speak, didn't push any further. He just moved quietly, allowing her the space to surrender on her own terms.
Maddie slipped her shoes on at the door, her movements slow and mechanical, as though every step required effort. Crumpled pencil skirt and blouse. David stood beside her, silent, waiting, his heart aching for the woman standing next to him—the woman he had loved, still loved, even after all the pain.
When they finally stepped outside into the cold night, the air felt like a release. Maddie's shoulders slumped, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to be led. David opened the car door for her, and she slid inside without a word, her face turned toward the window, her tears silent now but ever-present.
David got into the driver's seat and started the engine, the low hum filling the quiet as they pulled away from the house. Neither of them spoke as the darkened streets passed by, the weight of everything still heavy in the air between them.
But for now, at least, they were moving. And maybe, just maybe, toward something that could begin to heal the wounds that had been festering for far too long.