The café door chid softly as Catherine stepped inside.
Almost imdiately, the owner spotted her.
"Miss Preston!" the woman hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron, her face bright with excitent. "It’s an honor to have you here."
Before Catherine could respond, the owner was already guiding her toward the best table in the café, near the window where the morning light poured warmly across the polished wood.
Catherine paused beside the chair.
"Do you have a private spot?" she asked politely.
"Of course, of course."
The owner imdiately led them past the main seating area to a quieter corner partitioned by wooden screens. It wasn’t a full room, but it was secluded enough that the other custors wouldn’t overhear.
After helping them settle down, the owner handed them the nu and lingered a mont.
"Your father... is he doing well now?" she asked carefully.
Catherine gave a small nod. "He’s doing fine."
Relief spread across the woman’s face before she excused herself to take their orders.
Across the café, Charlotte had been watching the entire exchange. Her blonde hair fell neatly over her shoulders, and her blue eyes remained fixed on Catherine. The more she watched, the tighter her fists beca under the table.
She couldn’t stand the way the owner rushed to greet Catherine, and the way she was treated like soone important. Like nobility.
Charlotte swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat.
After settling in her seat, Catherine casually lifted her hand and gestured toward her. Charlotte stiffened. But she had no choice.
She stood and walked toward the private corner.
By the ti she arrived, Catherine was quietly pouring herself a glass of water, her movents calm and unhurried.
Beside her, Maximilian leaned back slightly in his chair, studying Charlotte with curious, asuring eyes.
"Have you ordered?" he asked.
His tone sounded polite, but the way he said it felt more like he was checking off a box.
Charlotte frowned. "There are caras around," she said stiffly. "Even this place has a cara."
Maximilian tilted his head slightly.
"And what do you think is going to happen here?" he asked calmly. "Should sothing change just because there are caras?"
Charlotte swallowed.
Of course. She should have known better. Within ten miles of Catherine Preston, there was no such thing as a truly safe place for her.
She had rushed into trouble.
If she had waited a few days, she could have contacted Dorian first. He would have told her what to do, how to deal with this.
But now she was already here. Now she had to navigate carefully.
"Do you rember that night, Charlotte?" Catherine began quietly. "That clear night when the moonlight was reflected on the snow?"
She could feel the resistance radiating from the woman across the table. Charlotte was still angry about being dragged here, still unwilling to cooperate.
Catherine didn’t react.
"You were hiding behind the pine trees," she continued slowly. "It was snowing. You were clutching your stomach... your lips bruised and bleeding because you kept biting them to hold back the pain."
Charlotte’s shoulders stiffened.
Catherine paused.
That place had been crawling with Velmont soldiers that night. The moon had been full, bright enough to cast silver light across the snow.
She had stumbled upon Charlotte by accident. One glance was enough for her to know... Charlotte was in labor.
At first, Catherine had intended to do the sensible thing—call the soldiers and let Dorian deal with the situation.
But...
Only a few days earlier, she herself had delivered a stillborn child.
The mory was still raw.
And leaving another woman alone in the snow, bleeding and terrified at the most vulnerable mont of her life...
Catherine simply couldn’t do it.
Catherine looked at Charlotte, who had unconsciously placed a hand over her own stomach, as if the mory had dragged her back to that night.
Good, Catherine thought.
That was exactly where she wanted her.
"I broke every law and every promise I had made to my husband," Catherine said slowly, her voice trembling. "I snuck you into my tent."
Across the table, Maximilian went completely still.
Charlotte had told him before that Catherine had helped her, but she had never told him the details.
"I put my life on the line helping you deliver," Catherine continued, her eyes reddening.
The bracelet around her wrist suddenly grew warm.
At the sa mont, Maximilian felt a sharp pain grip his chest. A pain he hadn’t felt in a very long ti.
"I held your son first," Catherine said, her voice breaking. "I cut the cord... I..."
Her lips trembled as she fought to keep her emotions under control.
"You had fainted. And I... I was his first wet nurse."
The boy had co into the world screaming.
Charlotte had collapsed imdiately after, leaving Catherine alone with the newborn. The soldiers had been nearby, the entire camp alive with patrols. If the baby kept crying, they would have been discovered.
Catherine had done the only thing she could think of.
She had fed him.
The mont the baby tasted milk, he had quieted, drinking peacefully before falling asleep in her arms as if the world outside didn’t exist.
"I lied to my n while sneaking you out at dawn," Catherine said, swallowing the storm rising in her chest. "I lied to my people to protect you."
Charlotte lowered her head.
"I never said you didn’t help ," she murmured.
Beside Catherine, Maximilian stared at her in stunned silence.
He knew how the world had worked back then. War was brutal. Like lions in the wild, enemies often killed the cubs of the opposing side to erase the bloodline before it could grow.
rcy for newborns was rare.
Yet Catherine had risked everything.
For his son.
The realization struck him harder than any blow.
Catherine’s hand suddenly slamd against the table.
"Then tell who killed my son!"
The sharp sound echoed through the café.
A waiter approaching their table froze mid-step, the tray in his hands trembling. Several nearby custors turned to look at them.
Catherine closed her eyes briefly and forced herself to breathe.
When the waiter finally set down their drinks and hurried away, she leaned forward again.
Her voice trembled.
"Tell the truth."
Charlotte’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
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