Catherine had seen the news early that morning. Edward Blackwood was dead. At first, she had only skimd the headline, but one search led to another, and soon she found the announcent about a press conference. Curiosity pulled her to the living room television.
She stood in front of the screen now, arms loosely folded, watching the broadcast. The reporters had gathered in a dense crowd, caras flashing under the harsh studio lights. Microphones covered the table at the front like a wall of tal stems.
Behind her, Maximilian had walked into the room.
"What do you an?" she asked, glancing back at him. His earlier tone had carried sothing strange—sothing that suggested he knew more than what the news was saying.
Before he could answer, her phone rang.
Catherine glanced down at the screen. Dorian.
Her eyes lifted back to the television almost instinctively. Near the door to the conference room, Dorian stood with a phone in his hand, his expression solemn and composed as reporters gathered around him.
For a brief mont, Catherine’s thumb hovered over the screen. She almost answered. Almost.
But she stopped herself. She had already ended things with him, and answering now would only reopen a door she had closed with effort.
The call ended.
On the television, Dorian looked down at his phone. His jaw tightened slightly, and sothing sharp flashed through his eyes before the expression disappeared. A second later, Catherine’s phone vibrated again.
Voicemail.
She didn’t bother opening it.
On the screen, Dorian slipped one hand into his trouser pocket as soone guided him toward the table filled with microphones. The mont he sat down, the reporters erupted into questions, their voices overlapping in a chaotic wave.
"Mr. Blackwood, are you the new chairman of BioQuant?"
"Did Edward Blackwood leave a will?"
"Was his death expected?"
Catherine tilted her head, studying the screen with narrowed eyes. "Ah," she muttered, "his pinstripe suit hurts my eyes."
Maximilian had co to stand beside her by then, his gaze fixed on the broadcast. "He doesn’t look like he’s grieving," he said quietly. "He doesn’t even pretend anymore."
Catherine glanced sideways at him. The words sounded casual, but his tone carried sothing heavier beneath it, as if he were hinting at sothing he wasn’t ready to say outright.
Her brows slowly drew together. What exactly did Maximilian know that she didn’t?
Dorian handled the reporters with practiced ease. Catherine could imdiately tell he had been trained for this kind of situation—the polished composure of soone raised as a future heir.
"My grandfather’s loss is imasurable, and he is irreplaceable," Dorian said into the microphones. "I respectfully ask for privacy for our family during these difficult tis."
The reporters didn’t back down. Questions kept flying from every direction, voices overlapping as caras flashed. But Dorian didn’t lose control of the room. With subtle skill, he began guiding the conversation away from the questions he didn’t want to answer.
"I always believed I would make this announcent with my grandfather by my side," he continued, his voice lowering slightly. "His hand on my shoulder... his proud eyes watching ."
He paused.
Then bowed his head and wiped the corner of his eye.
Sothing in Catherine’s chest tightened.
Dorian had always been composed. Controlled. He was the type of man who locked his emotions away even in private, let alone in front of a room full of reporters.
Which ant...
Unless—
"Ah," Maximilian muttered beside her, lips curling faintly. "Now he’s pretending."
The disgust in his eyes was unmistakable.
Catherine didn’t respond.
Normally she would have dismissed his words as jealousy or old rivalry. But this ti... she couldn’t. Even to her, the display felt slightly forced.
She turned her attention fully back to the television.
By then, Dorian’s assistant had stepped forward and handed him a tissue. The gesture felt a little too rehearsed, a little too tily.
Dorian dabbed at his eye once more before straightening.
"I am sure my grandfather is watching . So... I am proud to announce the expansion of BioQuant’s Research and Developnt division," he said, smoothly shifting the topic. "My grandfather was a visionary. He understood that the future of dicine depends on continued research across many fields..."
Catherine barely heard the rest.
Her throat tightened.
So he had gone ahead and announced the R&D departnt.
She had asked him for a lab that day. Back when she stupidly thought they could keep it professional. But now...
She wasn’t going to join his company.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
Was that why he had called her?
"I’d heard Edward was completely against creating an R&D departnt in BioQuant," Maximilian said with a scoff. "Funny how that’s the very first thing Dorian announces after he dies. Even before the old man is buried."
Catherine turned and looked at him.
A grown man speaking with the bitterness of a resentful mother-in-law... it wasn’t exactly attractive. But this was also the Maximilian she rembered from their past life, the one who grew up beside her, was sharp-tongued and unfiltered.
So instead of focusing on how he said it, she focused on what he said.
Was he implying that Dorian might have killed his own grandfather?
The thought made her stomach tighten.
She wanted to dismiss it imdiately. But the problem was... she didn’t truly believe Maximilian was soone who spoke carelessly about things like this. Even in their previous lives, the rumors surrounding Dorian had been ruthless. People said that with the backing of his powerful father-in-law in the military, he had seized his brother’s throne without rcy.
Was sothing like that beneath him?
She didn’t think so.
And Maximilian was also the sa man who could override the security protocols of the Vice President. If anyone had access to information others didn’t, it would be him.
Which ant he might actually know sothing.
A colder thought crept into her mind.
If it were true... if Dorian had done sothing like that...
Had he done it for her?
An unpleasant chill slid down her spine. Catherine reached for the remote and switched off the television. The room fell quiet.
"I’ll get ready," she said, already turning toward the hallway.
Right now, she couldn’t afford to think about Dorian’s motives.
There was sothing far more important.
She needed to find the person who had killed her son.
Behind her, Maximilian watched her walk away. He couldn’t tell what thoughts were running through her mind.
After a mont, he turned and went to get ready as well.
----
Breakfast passed in near silence.
The quiet wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Cutlery touched plates, coffee cups clinked softly, and the winter morning light spread across the long dining table of the Victorian house.
By the ti they finished, Catherine and Maximilian were preparing to leave.
"Are we taking a helicopter today?" Maximilian asked as they walked toward the door.
Catherine paused and studied his face.
"You don’t look pleased," she observed.
Maximilian scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable. "I... am not really a fan of those rides," he admitted.
The truth was embarrassingly simple. The wind, the noise, the constant vibration—it all unsettled him. Too many people had died in helicopter crashes. He had seen enough reports and statistics to know exactly how fragile those machines could be in the air.
He didn’t want to beco one of those numbers.
And yes, Catherine might laugh at him for it.
But honestly... he didn’t care.
Catherine let out a slow breath as she looked at him.
So this man did have a weakness.
Finally.
"We’ll take the car," she said.
It made no real difference to her anyway.
Just as they were about to step out, the doorbell rang.
Catherine opened the door.
Standing outside was her second brother.
Jonathan.
She blinked in surprise. It was far too early in the morning for a casual visit. And truthfully, she wasn’t very close to this brother. They had spoken over the years, but they had never developed the sa easy familiarity she shared with the others.
Which made his sudden appearance... strange.
"What brings you here?" she asked cautiously.
Jonathan looked at her for a mont before speaking.
"Do you not consider your brother?"
Catherine blinked.
What?
What have I done?
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