Chapter 70: Fragments Of Past

Maximilian leaned closer, his voice lowering until it brushed against her skin like a blade wrapped in velvet.

“The one you forgot,” he said softly. “The reason for all your misery.”

Catherine instinctively leaned back. “Isn’t that you?”

The words were light.

The truth beneath them was not.

She remembered everything. The blood. The betrayal. The screaming… The weight of her dead child in her arms…

Maximilian straightened slowly. A flicker of raw, unguarded pain crossed his face before a wry smile replaced it.

“That is also true,” he admitted.

His eyes reddened.

And for some reason, that hurt her.

Catherine pressed a hand to her chest as if to steady something that had no intention of calming down. Seeing him wounded like this… it unsettled her far more than his arrogance ever had.

But there had been someone else that day.

Someone was behind her.

A shadow.

Is that whom he means?

Her mind sifted through memories.

Could it be Dorian?

No.

He had been leading the army at the frontlines. He had dinner with her the previous night and left her tent before nightfall. It couldn’t have been him.

So who?

Maximilian opened his mouth as if he were about to finally speak…

When his phone rang.

The sharp vibration shattered the fragile moment between them.

He answered immediately and listened to the one from the other end. “Be careful, Seb. I’ll be there soon.”

He ended the call and looked at her, jaw tightening.

“More intruders were found. I’ll go check.”

And then…

He ran.

Catherine stood there, staring at his retreating back as he disappeared down the corridor like a gust of wind.

She exhaled sharply.

Haven’t he forgotten something?

Her gaze dropped to the bracelet on her wrist. Then, to the four-inch heels stabbing into polished marble.

This man.

Left her.

For his friend.

So this was his great, unshakable love?

But this was fine. He was showing his priority and now she didn’t have to feel guilty for rejecting him.

She saw him getting farther away.

Twenty meters.

She inhaled and started running.

The distance didn’t shrink.

It widened.

Twenty-five.

Why are his legs this long?!

Twenty-eight.

She braced herself for the familiar burn… the curse’s punishment for straying too far.

Nothing.

Thirty meters.

Still nothing.

But Catherine… born and raised in silk-lined corridors, not training grounds, could not sprint forever.

Not in heels.

Not with lungs that had never needed to fight for air.

“Stop! Moosemilian!” she shouted.

They had reached a grand hall lined with towering busts and gilded pillars. A few startled maids peeked out from behind marble statues at the commotion.

Catherine flashed them a strained smile and a polite nod.

Then she bent over, hands on her knees, gasping like an exhausted puppy.

Maximilian spun around the second he heard her voice and rushed back.

“Are you okay?”

“Now you ask,” she wheezed, glaring up at him between breaths.

He reached to pat her back.

Her eyes sharpened. “Touch me. I dare you.”

He immediately raised both hands in surrender.

“How did you even run in those heels?” he muttered.

He regretted leaving her.

Sebastian had reported men in black with weapons infiltrating the gala. His instincts had taken over—sharp, immediate, decisive.

He had lived a lifetime of split-second decisions where hesitation meant death. He had hated that life.

But he had also missed the rush of it.

And Sebastian…

Even in this life, Sebastian had been obsessed with security—cameras, blind spots, formations, emergency exits. A boy bullied too often, building invisible armor.

Now Maximilian understood.

Sebastian had once been her knight. The one who guarded her as her right hand. The one who would have died for her without blinking.

Perhaps everyone carried fragments of their past buried somewhere deep in their soul.

If so…

Maximilian remembered a girl.

Not this sharp-tongued, guarded woman standing before him.

He remembered Katerina.

A girl who laughed easily. Who was kind down to her bones. Who used to press flowers between the pages of her books and hum when she thought no one was listening.

Toward the end of her life, he had not seen that girl anymore.

Only the queen.

Only the steel.

Was she still there?

Hidden behind this armor she had built to survive him?

Catherine straightened slowly, still catching her breath.

Their eyes met.

For the briefest second, something flickered in his gaze.

Not anger.

Not challenge.

But something softer. Warmer.

Dangerous.

“Walk,” she said abruptly, brushing past him before the moment could deepen. “Gosh. I can’t get rid of this stupid bracelet fast enough,” she muttered under her breath.

Maximilian exhaled slowly, watching her retreat.

“This way,” he corrected calmly when she took the wrong turn.

Catherine rolled her eyes but adjusted her path.

“How open would Sebastian Remington be to a contract marriage?” she asked casually. “Two… maybe three years?”

The words landed like a slap.

She kept walking as if she hadn’t just detonated something between them.

He was the safest option.

Sebastian’s name didn’t just open doors — it announced her arrival before she even stepped inside. As her former knight, he would offer protection without emotional entanglement. No possessiveness. No dangerous chemistry. No war of egos.

Security. Stability. Peace.

And more importantly…

He would never betray her.

Divorce wasn’t scandalous anymore. They could stay married as long as necessary. Then separate cleanly. No chains. No wounds.

A perfect arrangement.

Maximilian stopped walking.

The air shifted.

*****

Meanwhile — Security Room

Under the cold glow of surveillance monitors, Sebastian Remington leaned closer to the woman tied to the chair.

She wore a server’s uniform. Thick glasses obscured half her face.

But he had facial recognition cameras.

He had noticed her the moment she entered.

She hadn’t tampered with anything. Hadn’t stolen anything. She had simply wandered.

Watching.

“What were you doing here?” he asked quietly.

Her lips pressed into a stubborn line. “You cannot hold me here, Mr. Remington. Why don’t you call the police?”

Even through the glasses, her eyes…

There was something in them.

Familiar. Warm.

Infuriating.

He should have been furious. Security breaches were not something he tolerated.

But this woman…

“How did you get in?” he asked. “Who did you pay?”

She turned her face away with a delicate, dismissive pout — as if he were beneath her attention.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened.

He wanted to strike her.

He would have… if it were anyone else.

Instead, he looked toward the four men tied along the wall.

“Are they with you?”

“Nope,” she replied lightly. “Never seen them.”

“She paid us,” one of the men snapped. “Said she wanted you dead.”

Sebastian’s gaze slid back to her.

“Oh?”

She shot the man a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

“If you believe him,” she said coolly, “you’re stupid. And maybe you deserve to be killed.”

Sebastian blinked.

Fraile. Bound. Outnumbered.

And still commanding the room.

And beautiful.

He couldn’t look away.

Then…

One of the men broke free.

In a flash, he lunged for the box cutter on the table and charged at Sebastian.

The woman’s scream tore through the room.

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