Chapter 224: To Belong
After dinner, when everyone had gathered in the main house and the excitement surrounding Alexander and Roxana’s marriage had finally settled into comfortable family chatter, Jonathan arrived carrying a large tube beneath his arm. He placed it on the dining table with the seriousness of a man presenting military plans rather than construction drawings.
Naturally, that immediately captured everyone’s attention.
"What now?" Catherine asked suspiciously as Jonathan carefully unrolled several sheets across the table.
Jonathan ignored her and smoothed the corners flat before turning the blueprints around for everyone to see.
"This," he said, tapping the plans with a finger, "is your new laboratory."
The conversation around the table died instantly.
Catherine leaned forward.
The others followed.
What unfolded before them was far more than a laboratory. Jonathan had clearly taken Catherine’s work—and the dangers surrounding it—very seriously. The facility was designed beside Catherine’s home, close enough for convenience but isolated enough to maintain security and privacy. Multiple research wings branched from the main structure. There were secured storage areas, independent power systems, reinforced data centers, emergency exits, and enough redundancy built into the design that the building could continue functioning even if several systems failed simultaneously.
Catherine stared at the plans for several moments before looking up.
"Jonathan," she said slowly, "are you building me a laboratory or a military installation?"
Jonathan didn’t even blink.
"Both require similar levels of protection."
Nobody at the table argued with him.
Given everything that had happened recently, everyone understood that Catherine’s research was no longer just research. Too many powerful people had already shown interest in it. Too many people had already proven they were willing to bend laws, manipulate systems, and exploit others to obtain it.
Security quickly became the next topic of discussion.
Jonathan walked them through every detail with the same calm efficiency he brought to his business ventures. Surveillance systems would cover every approach to the building. Access points would require multiple layers of authentication. Independent security personnel would patrol the area. Backup communication systems were incorporated into the design, along with secure storage for research materials and emergency protocols in the event of intrusion.
While Jonathan explained, the rest of the family contributed suggestions.
William offered additional resources.
Alexander pointed out several vulnerabilities from a practical standpoint.
Bobby immediately began discussing perimeter security.
Even Maximilian became involved, asking questions that revealed he had already been thinking several steps ahead regarding Catherine’s protection.
By the end of the evening, Catherine’s laboratory had evolved into something that looked capable of surviving both corporate espionage and a small-scale invasion.
A week later, construction officially began.
The peaceful stretch of land beside Catherine’s house transformed almost overnight. Heavy machinery arrived before sunrise. Construction crews moved in with astonishing efficiency. Concrete mixers, trucks, cranes, and excavation equipment became permanent fixtures of the landscape.
For everyone else, it was exciting.
For Catherine, it was torture.
The constant noise started before breakfast and continued until evening. The vibration of machinery carried through the ground. Dust seemed determined to find its way into every corner of her house no matter how tightly the windows were shut.
By the third day, she had reached the limit of her patience.
"I refuse to live in a construction site," she announced.
Maximilian looked up from where he had been reviewing documents.
"So we’re leaving?"
"We’re escaping."
He laughed.
And honestly, he wasn’t opposed to the idea.
Meridon offered something they both wanted. Catherine could continue her work without the noise and distractions, while Maximilian could finally return to his university duties.
The decision was made almost immediately.
Within days, they were back in Meridon.
For Catherine, returning felt strangely comforting. For weeks, she had been surrounded by family, drama, security meetings, construction plans, and wedding discussions. Meridon felt quieter. Simpler.
For Maximilian, however, returning to campus created an entirely different kind of excitement.
His students had missed him. Particularly the female students.
The moment he stepped onto campus, he was greeted by enthusiastic waves, cheerful greetings, and more than a few dramatic complaints about his absence.
Several students claimed their academic performance had suffered. Others accused him of abandoning them. One particularly dramatic student even claimed that the entire department had lost its sense of purpose without him.
Maximilian listened to all of this with the patience of a man who knew he was being manipulated.
Meanwhile, Catherine accompanied him on several occasions, partly because she enjoyed spending time with him and partly because she wanted to boast.
Naturally, the students became curious.
They had heard rumors. Many rumors.
And eventually someone gathered enough courage to ask the question everyone wanted answered.
"So..." one of the students began carefully, glancing between Catherine and Maximilian. "That ring..."
Before Maximilian could answer, Catherine smiled. "I’m his fiancée."
The reaction was immediate.
Several students froze. A few looked genuinely shocked. Others looked mildly heartbroken. One girl looked as though her favorite fictional character had just died.
Yet surprisingly, most of the students simply laughed. Because while the confirmation was new, the relationship itself wasn’t exactly a mystery.
They had seen the way Maximilian looked at Catherine. They had noticed how his entire mood changed whenever she appeared. They had watched him become visibly distracted whenever she called.
And perhaps most telling of all, they had never once seen him deny the rumors.
One student finally shook her head and laughed.
"Professor, respectfully, everybody already knew."
The entire group burst into laughter.
Even Maximilian couldn’t deny it.
Some students were jealous. Some were disappointed. Most were genuinely happy for him.
But none of them were surprised.
Because anyone who had spent more than five minutes around Maximilian Whitmore when Catherine Preston was nearby would have immediately recognized the truth.
The man looked at her as though she were the best thing that had ever happened to him.
And that was not something even a university professor could successfully hide.
That evening, Catherine arrived at the Morcant residence carrying far more gifts than anyone reasonably needed.
There were carefully chosen presents for Dr. Eileen Morcant. Gifts for Amelia. An entire collection of toys, clothes, books, and stuffed animals for little Charlotte. By the time she stepped through the front door, she looked less like a guest and more like someone moving into the house.
The familiar scent of herbs welcomed her immediately. The house always smelled like that.
It felt lived in...Loved and afe.
Before Catherine could properly greet anyone, Dr. Eileen Morcant crossed the room and pulled her into a hug.
A proper hug.
It was the embrace of a mother welcoming family. And she held on just a little longer than necessary, just enough for Catherine to feel everything that wasn’t said.
The acceptance.
The relief.
And beneath it, the small, understandable fear that lived in every mother’s heart—the realization that the son she had raised, worried over, and loved all his life now belonged partly to someone else.
Catherine hugged her back just as tightly.
"I brought gifts," she announced softly.
Eileen laughed and finally released her.
The tension that had lingered somewhere deep inside Catherine’s chest disappeared completely.
She belonged here, not as Maximilian’s guest or his girlfriend, not as someone being tolerated for his sake.
She belonged here because they wanted her here. The realization settled warmly in her heart.
Amelia appeared shortly afterward.
And unlike her mother, Amelia immediately grabbed Catherine’s left hand.
"Let me see."
Catherine sighed dramatically.
"Hello to you too."
"Ring first."
Catherine surrendered her hand.
Amelia examined the ring with the seriousness of an appraiser inspecting a priceless artifact.
"Huh."
"What does that mean?"
"It means my brother somehow managed to marry above his station."
Catherine gasped in mock outrage.
"Your brother is a highly respected professor."
"Exactly." Amelia nodded gravely. "And you’re Catherine Preston."
Catherine burst out laughing.
Amelia turned her hand slightly, examining the Alexandrite.
"Okay, this is annoyingly beautiful."
"It is."
"And he put lilies into the design?"
"He did."
Amelia groaned.
"Why is he so disgustingly romantic?"
"Because he’s obsessed with me."
"That is unfortunately true."
The conversation dissolved into easy laughter.The kind that came naturally between women who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
But as Catherine watched Amelia, she noticed something, small enough that most people would have missed it.
The smile remained. The jokes continued. The teasing never stopped. Yet every now and then Amelia’s gaze drifted back toward the ring.
And when it did, something softened in her expression.
Something wistful. Something lonely. It wasn’t bitterness or resentment. Amelia was genuinely happy for her brother. Genuinely happy for Catherine.
But beneath that happiness lingered a quiet ache.
The kind that appeared when someone else’s dream came true while yours remained just out of reach.
A little jealousy.
A little longing.
A little sadness.
As though seeing the ring reminded her that she wanted one too.
Not necessarily the diamond or the spectacle, but the certainty... The person. The feeling of knowing someone had chosen you above everyone else.
Catherine pretended not to notice.
Because pointing it out would only embarrass her.
Instead, she squeezed Amelia’s hand.
Amelia looked up.
"What?"
Catherine smiled.
"Nothing."
Amelia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You have that face."
"What face?"
"The face someone makes when they’re plotting."
"I don’t have a plotting face."
"You absolutely have a plotting face."
Catherine only smiled wider.
And Amelia immediately regretted asking.
Because whenever Catherine Preston smiled like that, somebody’s life was about to become significantly more complicated.
Usually for their own good.
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