Chapter 218: To Stand United
Maximilian walked beside Alexander on the path leading to the main house, the hot wind brushing past them in quiet waves. Gravel crunched beneath their shoes, the silence between them carrying a strange kind of understanding.
After a while, Alexander finally spoke.
"Catherine said you’re handling everything well," he said, glancing sideways at him. "You don’t need my help?"
Maximilian looked at him for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle.
"You believed her?"
Alexander sighed through his nose. "She’s trying to protect me," he said, and despite himself, his expression softened. "How adorable..."
Maximilian smiled faintly. Of course, Catherine would do that. Even now, with danger closing around her, her instinct was still to shield the people she loved.
Then his gaze sharpened slightly.
"Your wife has connections in the military-industrial world too, doesn’t she?" he asked casually.
Alexander immediately caught the shift beneath the casual tone. "That sounds dangerous," he replied. "And here I thought you’d at least pretend to care about my safety."
Maximilian laughed under his breath.
"Alexander... I’m already at war," he said simply. "It would be idiotic not to use every resource within reach."
His hands slipped into his pockets as he continued walking.
"You four brothers, your spouses, your connections... together, you form a network powerful enough to make things safer for Catherine." His eyes turned toward Alexander again. "Why would I refuse to use that?"
Then he paused deliberately.
"Unless," he added lightly, "you’d rather stay out of it?"
Alexander stared at him for a moment before exhaling slowly.
He liked that answer.
There was no false nobility in it. No prideful "I’ll handle everything alone" nonsense. Maximilian saw the battlefield clearly and was willing to use every advantage available to protect Catherine.
"We’re involved whether we like it or not," Alexander said at last. "Anyone targeting Catherine will eventually target the family too. It’s better we strengthen our defenses now rather than react later."
Maximilian nodded once.
"Thank you," he said. "Then I’ll rely on you."
Alexander watched him continue down the windy path, tall and composed beneath the pale winter sky.
For a brief moment, an old memory surfaced in his mind—Maximilian as a child, stubbornly following him around, clinging to his leg, staring at him with admiration bright in his eyes as though Alexander could solve every problem in the world.
Back then, Maximilian had been the little brother trailing after him.
But this life...
Alexander got to see him differently.
Not as the child who once looked at him like a hero... but as a man leading a war.
And strangely enough, Alexander liked what he saw.
-----
The moment Catherine stepped into the main house, warmth and noise greeted her together.
Sophia and Miranda were already in the kitchen, moving around with practiced ease as they prepared what looked less like a family dinner and more like a feast for a royal celebration. Pots simmered, trays filled the counters, and the rich aroma of butter, herbs, and roasted meat drifted through the air.
And beside them stood Roxana.
Or rather... attempted to stand beside them helpfully.
She held a tablet in one hand while staring at a bowl as though it were a legal document she was trying to cross-examine. Every movement she made carried the careful hesitation of someone walking through enemy territory.
Honestly, she looked a little anxious.
And a little pitiful.
"You can go take care of your work if you want," Catherine said as she walked in. "Those two can cook for a thousand people without help."
"That we can," Miranda replied proudly without even looking up.
Catherine pulled out a barstool and sat at the island counter. She had come here with a very specific mission in mind.
Unfortunately, Sophia spoke first.
"Catherine," Sophia began, already sounding exhausted, "listen to me carefully, and this time, listen until I finish speaking."
Catherine immediately straightened.
"Oh," she said dramatically, rubbing her arms. "I’m suddenly terrified."
Sophia inhaled deeply, visibly preparing herself.
"I want you," she said slowly, "to at least try other wedding designers—"
"Nope. Not happening."
Catherine reached for a carrot from the cutting board and bit into it with zero remorse.
Sophia shut her eyes.
"Didn’t I just tell you to let me finish?"
"I’m not wearing polyester," Catherine replied firmly between bites. "It gives me hives."
Sophia looked one second away from throwing a ladle at her.
"I meant," she clarified through clenched teeth, "that you should try different silhouettes before deciding."
"Ballgown," Catherine answered immediately.
"There are other silhouettes."
"For a wedding dress?" Catherine blinked. "Why?"
Miranda burst out laughing.
"There are plenty," she interjected. "Mermaid. A-line. Sheath. Trumpet—"
"Those sound like fish and musical instruments."
Sophia pressed a hand against her forehead.
The discussion somehow continued for several more minutes, mostly consisting of Catherine dismissing entire branches of bridal fashion like a tyrannical queen rejecting unsuitable architecture.
But eventually, cornered by Sophia and Miranda working together, Catherine relented with visible reluctance.
"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "I’ll book an appointment."
Then her eyes slid toward Roxana.
"For Roxana too."
"No."
Roxana answered without even looking up from the tablet in her hand.
One leg crossed elegantly over the other, posture straight, expression calm—her refusal came smoothly, crisply, decisively.
Like a judge delivering a final verdict.
"There is absolutely no reason for me to try on wedding dresses for a marriage that already happened in a courthouse."
Across from her, Catherine continued flipping through a bridal catalogue as though she had heard nothing at all.
"Mm." She tilted a page thoughtfully. "This neckline would suit you."
Roxana slowly lowered the tablet.
"Catherine."
"And this one," Catherine continued serenely, "makes women look heartbreakingly expensive. Alexander would faint."
"He already married me."
"Yes, but this time he can faint publicly."
Roxana stared at her.
Alexander and Maximilian entered at that time. The Preston dining room was flooded with warm light, absurdly peaceful for the level of invasion currently occurring within it. Fresh flowers sat on the marble table. Tea steamed untouched. Somewhere outside, fountains trickled softly.
Inside, Catherine Preston was planning a royal-level wedding against the explicit wishes of both participants.
Alexander, unfortunately, had made the catastrophic mistake of agreeing with Roxana earlier that morning.
Big mistake.
"A courthouse wedding was sufficient," Roxana said patiently, like a lawyer speaking to an irrational but beloved client. "The legal paperwork is completed. The marriage is recognized. There is no logistical necessity for a ceremony."
Catherine finally looked up.
"That," she said with quiet disbelief, "might be the saddest sentence I’ve ever heard."
Roxana blinked.
Catherine shut the catalogue with a soft thud and leaned forward.
"You eloped with my brother like fugitives," she said. "Do you know how humiliating that was for me as a sister?"
Roxana almost laughed.
"You weren’t even involved."
"Exactly."
Catherine placed a hand dramatically against her chest.
"One day, I simply woke up and discovered my brother had apparently acquired a wife in secret, like a tax issue."
From the doorway came the sound of someone choking on nothing.
Alexander.
Comments