Chapter 210: Not Afraid Anymore
Catherine’s heart gave a sharp, sudden jolt.
Why was Joanne calling her? And from Samantha’s phone, of all things?
She pushed herself upright, her entire body going alert in an instant. "Where is Sammy?" she asked, her voice tightening despite her effort to stay composed. "Is everything alright? Do you need help?"
That was the first place her mind went when she thought about the urgency of the calls, the insistence. Something had to be wrong.
Silence answered her.
A few seconds stretched, heavy and uncertain.
"Joanne?" Catherine pressed, her brows knitting together.
Behind her, Maximilian remained close, his presence steady and grounding. His breath brushed softly against her neck as he rested on her shoulder, his hand moving slowly along the bare skin of her back in quiet reassurance.
Yet she knew him well enough to understand that the calm was only on the surface. If something was wrong, truly wrong, he would act without hesitation. After all, she had interrupted them at the very wrong moment.
The silence did not frighten her.
It irritated her.
"What do you want, Joanne?" she asked, her tone sharpening, impatience creeping in where concern had been.
Still nothing.
Catherine exhaled, her jaw tightening. "Then I’ll end the call, Mother," she said, the word bitter as it rolled off her tongue.
That relationship had long since soured. Ever since the threat, ever since Joanne had dared to use Maximilian’s integrity as leverage over something from a past that should have been buried, Catherine had drawn a line she had no intention of crossing again.
If this was about the engagement, she had no patience for it.
"You have nothing to say to me, Katerina?" Joanne’s voice came at last.
It was still that same small, almost fragile tone, yet the weight behind the words felt far older, far heavier. The contradiction unsettled Catherine more than she cared to admit, but she refused to show it.
"He proposed, and I said yes. Is that what you called to discuss?" she replied coolly.
A quiet sigh came from the other end.
"You haven’t learned anything, have you?"
Catherine’s fingers curled slightly around the phone.
Behind her, Maximilian shifted, his attention clearly on the conversation now. His touch remained, but there was a subtle change in him—something more focused, more aware. He had heard enough to understand this wasn’t a simple call.
Catherine drew in a slow breath.
"I am learning, Mother," she said, her voice steady despite the tension building beneath it. "I’m learning to trust my heart instead of running from it. I’m choosing what is true for me."
And that was the truth.
She was done hiding behind fear, done letting the past dictate every step she took. She was done denying what stood right in front of her—his love, unwavering, patient, and real.
She would not reject it again.
Silence followed.
Not empty this time—but thoughtful, as though Joanne was turning those words over, weighing them, testing their strength.
And Catherine waited, her grip on the phone firm, her heart steady—ready for whatever came next.
"Ah, there you are..."
Samantha’s voice came from a distance, slightly muffled at first, followed by the faint rustle of movement.
"I was looking for my phone—Joanne! I told you not to take my phone without permission. You’re on a call?" There was a brief pause, and then her tone sharpened. "You called Aunt Cathy?"
The displeasure in her voice was unmistakable.
What followed was a quick stream of scolding—firm, controlled, and edged with genuine irritation—along with a warning that this would reach her father if it happened again. The sound of shifting, a door closing, and then a quieter space settled on the line.
While Samantha dealt with Joanne, Maximilian’s presence behind Catherine did not waver. If anything, he grew more shameless in his quiet distraction, his hands tracing familiar paths, his attention divided yet entirely aware. Catherine exhaled softly, the tension from moments ago dissolving into something far more complicated, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite everything.
He really did have his own way of reacting to things.
And then the phone shifted again.
"That girl... Aunt Cathy... she creeps me out," Samantha muttered, her voice lower now, as if she had retreated somewhere private.
Catherine let out a soft chuckle. "She’s just a child," she said, even though she understood exactly why Joanne unsettled people.
"No... it’s not that simple," Samantha replied immediately. "She’s been trying to reach you for days. Richard told her not to contact you, and today she stole my phone just to call you. Who does that?" she huffed.
Catherine didn’t answer right away.
Something about that lingered.
But Samantha, as always, didn’t stay serious for long.
"So... how’s life as a fiancée?" she asked, her tone flipping back to bright and teasing.
Catherine couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her, the shift so abrupt it almost felt surreal. "It’s... good," she said, her voice softer now, carrying a warmth she didn’t bother to hide. "He hasn’t left my side since it happened."
Samantha snorted lightly. "Ah... the honeymoon phase. Reminds me of my Fudgie..."
"Fudgie?" Catherine echoed, curiosity slipping in despite herself.
"This guy I dated back in university," Samantha began, her voice dropping into that conspiratorial tone she always used when she was about to overshare. "Sweetest person you could imagine. Quiet, awkward, barely spoke to anyone—but with me... he was different."
Catherine listened, amused at first, though she quickly realized where this was heading.
Samantha, once she started, never filtered.
Details followed—too many, far more than Catherine needed or wanted—and Catherine pressed her lips together, silently questioning why she had even asked.
By the time Samantha circled back, her voice softened again, touched with something almost nostalgic.
"He was my first," she admitted. "And he was... gentle. Always gentle. I think that’s why I remember him."
Catherine’s expression eased at that.
"Did you love him?" she asked quietly, the question coming more naturally than she expected.
