Chapter 73: Queen Without A Crown

Catherine watched as Sebastian stepped aside and gestured forward with a small, respectful bow, guiding Bernice toward the exit.

Bernice looked back at her pitifully, like a scolded puppy being led away for a bath she didn’t want.

“I want her treated well,” Catherine said quietly. “I just want her safe. That’s all.”

She didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding. This wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t confinement.

It was protection.

Bernice had a reckless heart. And reckless hearts bled first.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Of course, Dr. Preston.” His voice was steady, composed. Then his gaze shifted to Bernice… and lingered.

“…I’ll treat her as precious cargo.”

“Cargo?” Bernice lifted her chin immediately, bristling.

She was small and soft, like an indignant toy poodle. Sebastian, tall and broad-shouldered beside her, looked almost princely, like a composed Great Dane tolerating a storm of tiny barks. The more Bernice puffed up, the more endearing she became, despite clearly intending to look intimidating.

Catherine chuckled softly.

And then… The laughter died.

Because memory rose without warning.

He had said those exact words before.

Precious cargo.

Another life. Another language.

Back when Bernice had insisted on following her to Velmont… and Bash had sworn to protect her.

Catherine hadn’t understood then. Bash wasn’t following her. He was following Bernice.

He had said those same words to Lady Bernice, his voice low, solemn, and unwavering. And Lady Bernice, equally oblivious, had bristled just like this.

They had navigated war and politics together. Fought beside each other. Laughed quietly at night over burnt rations and impossible odds.

And somewhere along the way… They had fallen in love.

Close enough for Bash to buy a ring. Close enough for him to plan a proposal.

But the day before he could kneel…

The Dravencourt army ambushed them.

It was the fateful day Bernice wore Katerina’s cloak. The day she died in her place.

The memory still clawed at Catherine’s lungs.

She remembered Sebastian standing there afterward.

Staring at the tip of his sword… as if the world had ended and he had no reason to remain in it.

And Katerina…

She had lost her child in a miscarriage just then, along with Bernice. Everything had been falling apart. She didn’t want to lose another one of her people too.

So, she had made him promise.

“Live,” she had told him. “Live to protect me, Bash. Fulfill what Bernice wanted.”

She hadn’t known how else to tether that broken, beautiful man to life.

And something… just a sliver of his soul… returned to his eyes.

From then on, he lived only to protect her.

And he had.

For fifteen years.

Like a machine. Like a knight guarding a queen who had already lost too much.

Until the day she died.

The present returned slowly.

Catherine watched as Bernice nearly tripped on the carpet. Sebastian caught her instantly, one hand steady at her waist. Gentle. Instinctive. Protective.

As if some buried part of him already knew… This was the woman he had once lost.

And Bernice…

The way she looked up at him… Startled, but not uncomfortable. Almost… familiar.

As though her soul recognized something her mind could not name.

Sebastian Remington has a fiancée.

Maximilian’s earlier words when she had casually asked if Sebastian would consider a contract marriage, echoed in her head as she wanted a strategic alliance.

Fiancée.

Someone suitable.

Someone aligned with his family’s status.

At the time, it hadn’t mattered.

Marriage to Sebastian would benefit her career enormously. His family’s legacy, his social standing, his connections… It would solidify her position in academia and society alike.

Logical.

Efficient.

Clean.

But now…

Watching Sebastian and Bernice together… She understood what that choice would cost.

To marry Sebastian… She would have to separate two souls that had already suffered through one lifetime of loss.

In the past, Bernice had been the noble lady and he the knight.

In this life, he was the heir of a legacy family. And Bernice… came from a background so modest she couldn’t even afford to buy glasses.

Different statuses. Different worlds. Again.

They didn’t remember.

But the soul…

The soul never forgets.

Catherine pressed her lips together.

Ambition whispered one thing.

Her heart… older, heavier, wiser… whispered another.

And deep down…

She already knew what the right thing was.

—–

They returned to the grand hall where the Winthorp Legacy Dinner was still in full bloom.

Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead. Violins hummed softly in the background. Laughter and polished conversations flowed like expensive wine.

And in the middle of it all, Ashley Renfield was working the room. She moved from group to group, smile stretched too tight, laughter a second too late. She tried to salvage what she could, by shaking hands, leaning closer than necessary, and dropping names with desperate elegance.

Catherine stopped beside a marble pillar near the exit.

She didn’t step forward. She didn’t need to. She had no reason to chase Sebastian. He had already promised to follow her instructions without hesitation.

Her lips curved faintly.

Right on cue, men in black suits began to move.

Security.

They closed in around Ashley and Jonathan with quiet precision.

At first, the music continued. Then the whispers began. Heads turned. Wine glasses paused midair.

Ashley’s face drained of color. Jonathan immediately covered half his face, as if anonymity could still save him.

Catherine stood straight.

Still.

Composed.

A queen without a crown.

“There must be some mistake,” Ashley insisted, her voice climbing in pitch as security gently but firmly urged her toward the exit.

She tried to negotiate. Tried to smile. Tried to laugh it off. But the more she spoke, the more the room recoiled.

The elites frowned at her insistence. At the desperation. At the lack of composure.

Cheap, their eyes seemed to say.

Sebastian approached with effortless aristocratic grace, his posture immaculate, his tone polite enough to cut glass.

“For the integrity of the Winthorp Legacy,” he announced calmly, “Miss Ashley Renfield and Mr. Jonathan Hale are permanently banned from all future Winthorp Legacy Dinners.”

A collective murmur rippled through the hall.

Permanent.

That word carried weight.

Ashley’s lips trembled. “This is slander!” she protested, struggling lightly against the security escort. “You can’t do this to me!”

Catherine did not move.

She simply watched.

And quietly, efficiently, she ensured the truth spread.

Ashley had entered through backhanded means. Ashley had attempted to bring questionable individuals inside. Ashley had tried to profit from private information.

One whisper slipped into another ear. That ear turned into a mouth. And that mouth leaned toward the next.

Rumors never shrink.

They grow.

By the time Ashley was escorted past the grand doors…

The story had already transformed.

Ashley Renfield, daughter of Noah Renfield, along with her boyfriend, had attempted to spy on the elite guests for financial gain.

The doors closed behind her.

Silence lingered for a beat.

Then the music resumed. The conversations restarted.

But the stain remained.

Catherine exhaled slowly, satisfaction warming her chest. Ashley had once humiliated her publicly, stolen her research, and forced her to stand alone under scrutiny.

Tonight…

Catherine could have stood in the center of the hall.

Pointed.

Accused.

Raised her voice and let chaos erupt.

But… that would have been loud.

And loud is temporary.

This?

This was quieter.

Colder.

Permanent.

Because Ashley knew. And everyone who had witnessed it knew.

Real power doesn’t scream to prove itself.

It stands still andwatches the world move according to its will.

And she… Catherine Preston, would no longer hide what she was capable of.

This was just the beginning. She still had her research to protect.

—–

Ashley stared at the closed doors.

Slowly… her expression changed.

“So that’s how you want to play, Catherine Preston.”

Her trembling stopped.

“Fine.”

—–

Catherine felt calm.

Victorious.

But somewhere in that grand hall…

Someone else had been watching. His lips curved into a smirk.

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