Chapter 38: A Love Strong Enough

The shock that flickered across Maximilian’s face at Alexander’s decisive, almost merciless, words lasted only a heartbeat.

Then his gaze hardened.

The violet in his eyes sharpened into something metallic, cold as a honed blade catching the light.

“That’s your decision,” Maximilian said evenly. “Not hers.”

“She wants you dead,” Alexander shot back.

The words were brutal. Necessary.

Alexander saw the flicker in Maximilian’s blue-violet eyes… the brief tightening that betrayed pain before it vanished behind composure. He knew he was being harsh. But he needed to see it. Needed to know whether Maximilian would crumble, deflect… or stand.

There had never been any doubt that Maximilian had loved Catherine.

The tragedy lay in how he had loved her. His love was clumsy, arrogant, and he was convinced she would always remain within reach. But he must have learned his lesson. A love strong enough to follow her into death, strong enough to draw the curse to him. No man suffered that deeply without reason.

“Yes,” Maximilian said quietly. “I know.”

He exhaled, fingers curling slowly into his palm.

“I know I’m alone in this. But I won’t back off. Not after I—”

He stopped himself.

Alexander caught it. The swallowed words. The secrets buried too deep to surface yet.

He smirked faintly… not in mockery, but in recognition. Lying had always been Maximilian’s shield. Not betrayal, but not innocence either. It was part of his survival. He was a King in a time when being honest was seen as a weakness.

“And how do you plan to win her heart?” Alexander asked coolly. “You’ve already lost it once.”

Maximilian lifted his head. “You need me,” Maximilian said, not as a boast, but as a fact that tasted bitter on his tongue.

The words were steady, but his throat worked as if forcing them out.

“Calhoun won’t stop. He’ll come for the Preston family next. And when he does… you’ll need me.”

“You?” Alexander let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “A history professor?”

His eyes glinted. “Do you think my brothers rose to where they are in our company, just because of our surname alone?”

Maximilian nodded once, lips pressed tight. His shoulders sank… just a fraction.

“Your brothers…” he murmured, and the hurt was real this time.

Alexander’s smile faded.

Brother.

Yes. In another life, Maximilian had been exactly that.

The memories were still raw—crowns, courts, bloodstained decisions. A life meant for a king. And yet… this life, imperfect and ordinary, had taught Alexander something else entirely.

Here, he had chosen his family. Again. Fiercely.

But he had forgotten something crucial.

Just like Catherine, Maximilian was still trapped in the gravity of the past.

And Alexander’s words, although unmeant, still had struck deeper than he realized.

Before he could speak again, Maximilian suddenly stiffened.

His hand flew to his chest.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, eyes snapping to the door. His voice dropped, sharp with certainty.

“She’s hurting.”

—

Outside, Catherine stood pouting, arms crossed, trying… and failing to think of a way to eavesdrop.

And then…

The burning returned.

It exploded through her wrist without warning. The bracelet constricted, metal biting into skin as if it had come alive. Heat surged through her veins, her blood turning to lava, scorching her from the inside out.

“Why…?” she gasped, staggering back and clawing at the door.

Did he move too far away?

Was he punishing her?

Curse you, Maximilian.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled for the doorbell. Before she could press it, the pain suddenly eased… and went away.

She was confused.

And then…

The door opened.

“Did you go far?” Catherine demanded, grabbing Maximilian by the collar. Her fingers shook, breath uneven, completely forgetting Alexander was still there.

Maximilian blinked, startled. “No. I was right here.” He gestured toward the living room. “That’s well within the range.”

He caught her wrist, steady and grounding. “I didn’t move.”

The heat faded enough for her lungs to work again.

After a few careful steps… forward, back, sideways… they confirmed it.

The range had shortened.

Five meters.

“Five meters?” Catherine laughed weakly, panic sharp beneath it. “I can’t even go to the kitchen alone now? What’s next… one meter?” Her voice cracked. “Am I supposed to stay glued to him for the rest of my life?”

Maximilian let out a strained grunt and dropped into a chair, pressing a hand to his chest. His head throbbed, as though something inside him was being chipped away, piece by piece.

Alexander watched them both… his sister shaking, Maximilian pale and rigid… and felt something heavy settle in his gut.

“I can’t live like this, Alexander,” Catherine whispered, tears slipping free.

He pulled her into his arms without hesitation. “I’ll figure it out,” he promised fiercely. “I’ll find a way.”

He reached for the bracelet…

The doorbell rang.

Catherine opened the door, Maximilian instinctively staying close.

A man in a tailored suit stood outside, white gloves pristine, like a footman misplaced from another era. On a silver platter rested an envelope of exquisite stationery, sealed in gold.

Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Preston.

Her breath caught.

She broke the seal with trembling fingers.

{The Winthorp Trustees request the pleasure of your company at the Winthorp Legacy Dinner…}

Her eyes widened. “My invite… to Winthorp.”

In all his life, Alexander had never seen Catherine so animated. He knew she liked biology, medicine, even… But this? This spark, this near-breathless enthusiasm, was new. Almost dazzling.

His gaze drifted, inevitably, to Maximilian.

Maybe… just maybe…

His phone chimed. It was a text from Roxana.

[Need to meet.]

Alexander excused himself after asking about their plans, but before leaving, he leaned close to Maximilian. His smile never reached his eyes as he whispered a quiet, unmistakable threat. A warning. Then he was gone.

—

By evening, Catherine and Maximilian were about to leave as well. The Winthorp invitation still buzzing in her mind, Catherine had entirely forgotten the bracelet.

“Guess what?” she nearly shouted into her phone.

The woman on the other end laughed softly, her voice warming instantly. “Have you finally decided to walk the runway for me? I just finished a Finale dress—”

“No!” Catherine groaned. “I’d trip and die. Sophia—I got an invite. Winthorp.”

“Winthorp?” Sophia shrieked. “Cathy Bean, you made it!”

“I need a dress,” Catherine said, suddenly serious.

Sophia sounded thrilled. “Go to my store. Everything’s covered—dress, shoes, jewelry.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Catherine said, smiling as she hung up.

Maximilian watched her, something gentle settling in his chest. Her excitement was a soothing balm to his heart. “Your mom is a designer?”

The smile vanished. Clean. Sudden.

“My mom is dead,” Catherine said flatly, already walking away.

The words stunned him, but the shock barely lingered before he faltered.

His breath hitched. He clutched his side with a sharp grunt, pain slicing through him without warning.

Now, how did I trigger her?

Maximilian grunted in pain.

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