Chapter 55: Family Dynamics

Day of Winthorp

Catherine sat cross-legged on the bed, absently tapping her heel against the mattress.

Arcturus lay sprawled on the plush rug beside her, belly up, entirely uninterested in his actual owner. For reasons Catherine found both amusing and deserved, the dog now preferred her over Maximilian.

Well. She did know the reason.

She’d been sneaking him meat.

A noble wolf-hunter lineage reduced to vegan slop was a tragedy she refused to tolerate. And clearly, Arcturus agreed—his loyalty had officially changed hands.

As for the former owner… she hadn’t spoken to him all day.

The distance still hadn’t shrunk.

Thirty meters. Steady. Unyielding.

If this continued, she decided she’d simply buy the neighboring brownstone and move out. Privacy mattered. Dignity mattered. And this makeshift bedroom carved out of his living room was neither.

Her gaze drifted to the locked door across the space.

She had tried… twice… while Maximilian was in the shower. Locked. Solid. And unfortunately, she had discovered that no amount of “How to Pick a Lock” videos could compensate for her absolute lack of skill.

If only locks answered to money…

She sighed, grabbing her phone just as it buzzed.

William.

She answered. “Yes?”

“Your car’s delivered at Sophia’s showroom with the chauffeur,” he said briskly. “You can attend the gala in it.”

Her lips curved. Her twenty-first birthday gift… delayed, probably because of all the upgrades he commissioned, but very much William’s style. Her first car.

“It’s the one with the winged lady, not the crouching zombie man, right?” she asked.

Last year, he’d asked her to choose between a Rolls-Royce and a Maybach. She’d chosen purely on aesthetics.

“Yep,” William confirmed. “Custom color. Custom interiors. Fit for our little princess.”

She smiled despite herself. “Thank you.”

“And?” he prompted.

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Silence.

Then more silence.

Then… “Jon called.”

Oh.

It clicked instantly. Her second brother must have reviewed the footage of the store, after she used the family black card. He must have seen Maximilian stuck to her and…

So… this has escalated.

“Why don’t you bring that young man to meet Father this Sunday?” William asked casually.

Catherine exhaled slowly.

So now everyone in the family and every worker on their ranch knew about Maximilian.

They’d probably already written a wedding announcement, assigned seating, and picked out grandchildren’s names.

“He’s just a professor,” she said firmly. “And I’m not marrying him. Don’t give Daddy ideas.”

Movement caught her attention beyond the door.

Of course. Maximilian.

“That’s fine,” William said easily. “Alexander said he’s from the Whitmore family? And he’s the one who got you into Winthorp?”

She sighed again. This was definitely turning into matchmaking.

“He’s vegan.”

There was a pause.

Then… “Vegan?” William sounded personally betrayed.

She could practically hear the disappointment. “He won’t even eat cheese. He drinks oat milk!”

There was silence as if he was deliberating deeply.

“Bring him anyway,” William decided. “We can convert him.”

Convert…

She laughed softly. “No.”

Silence returned.

“You’re not still hung up on the Calhoun mess, are you, Bitty Bean?” William asked gently.

Her chest warmed. He sounded just like their father.

“I’m fine,” she said. And this time, she meant it.

They spoke a little longer before she ended the call. “Tell Daddy I said hi. I called him this morning, but he didn’t answer.”

“Dad’s… a little busy today,” William said. Then after a short pause, he continued. “Come home, Bean,” William said. “It’s been too long. We miss you.”

She stared down at her wrist.

At the bracelet.

It had been three years since she went home.

“I’ll try,” she said quietly. “I miss you too.”

She would.

Catherine lowered her phone and glanced through the narrow gaps of the wooden divider.

Maximilian was still standing there.

“I need to get ready,” she said.

He froze instantly, pressing his back flat against the wall like he’d been caught trespassing in his own house.

“I can see you,” she added dryly.

Maximilian turned, caught. “It’s not even noon,” he said. “The gala doesn’t start until six.”

“Exactly,” Catherine replied. “I’m already late. The stylist has sent me three emails.” She lifted her chin slightly. “You should remember, Professor—I’m a woman. And I’m looking for a husband. I need to look my best.”

Maximilian pouted internally.

Why do you need to look good for others when I’m here?

The thought lodged painfully in his throat. He swallowed it down.

“Fine,” he said instead.

He wouldn’t break the fragile truce between them. And… if she wanted to look for a husband, so be it.

He’d never backed down from competition.

—–

They stepped out of the taxi in front of the Laurent Noir showroom.

Maximilian wasn’t well-versed in women’s fashion, but even he knew this name. His sister practically celebrated if she managed to get one piece from this label. He’d endured countless conversations where women casually bragged about owning multiple Laurent Noir coats.

He looked at Catherine, incredulous. He thought she talked to a seamstress she knew and called her Mother. Was she talking to the founder of the Laurent Noir label?

Inside, polished marble gleamed beneath warm lighting. They approached the reception… and immediately froze.

A familiar figure was nearly on her knees.

Ashley Renfield.

“I wouldn’t be here if my dress were couture,” Ashley pleaded desperately. “I don’t mind the fit. Just give me a dress. I’ll pay anything. It’s Winthorp for f*ck’s sake!”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” the receptionist replied politely. “Our brand does not operate that way. Every dress is tailored to perfection. We don’t compromise on fit, and we are not selling today.”

Catherine observed the scene with mild interest before walking past Ashley entirely.

The moment the receptionist saw her, she bowed.

Before Catherine could speak, the manager rushed out, smiling brightly. “Miss Preston, please follow me.”

Ashley’s head snapped up.

“Catherine?” She grabbed Catherine’s arm. “What are you doing here?”

Maximilian stepped forward instinctively… then stopped.

There was fire in Catherine’s eyes.

He let her handle it.

“Where are you taking her?” Ashley demanded. “Serve me first!”

“We have an appointment with Miss Preston,” the manager said firmly. “Miss, please mind your tone. We do not tolerate such behavior.”

Still, the manager kept glancing at Catherine’s face, visibly nervous… watching for the slightest shift in her expression.

“You’d serve her?” Ashley scoffed, disgust twisting her features. “Is the Whitmore family still that powerful in Meridon?”

Her fingers tightened.

She yanked Catherine hard.

Catherine staggered forward… so suddenly… she thought she might fall. But she fixed her foot firmly and shook herself off Ashley’s hold. “Who said I’m here because of Whitmore?” she asked, her lips curving to a smirk.

She then looked at the manager. The manager nodded and stepped forward.

“Miss Preston doesn’t need a recommendation to enter this store, or any of our stores,” she said.

Ashley scoffed. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

The manager smiled at Catherine and then looked at Ashley, with her eyes sharp.

“Because Sophia Laurent of Laurent Noir is Miss Preston’s sister-in-law.”

Ashley’s jaw dropped to the floor.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep