After leaving the hospital, Bert drove back to his company, his mind replaying the scene that had just unfolded.
He had only planned to wait by the flowerbed for Lilian and Morrison, enjoying a moment of peace. But then he heard Lucca's aggressive voice, cornering Catherine with her usual venom.
It was then Bert realized Catherine had returned to the country—and that her mother was seriously ill.
To him, Catherine's existence hadn't meant much. She was just the woman he had slept with two years ago, the only memory of her being that she was pure, untouched.
Thinking back to that night, he had been attending a dinner gathering when a disoriented Catherine stumbled into him, grasping his arm and begging for help. He immediately noticed something was off—she had been drugged. Bert, usually cold and indifferent, wasn't one to meddle, but the sight of her helpless figure stirred something in him. Her fair skin seemed almost luminous under the corridor lights, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her small face full of desperation—like a lost, frightened little rabbit.
Compassion took over, and he intended to simply help her. But once they were in the room, things spiraled into what should never have happened.
She was under the influence of the drug, radiating desire and urgency, while he, inexperienced in intimacy for years, was unable to resist her advances. Any man would have struggled to withstand a girl so beautiful, so eager—and Bert was no saint.
Later, when he learned she had been set up, he immediately investigated and ensured all the evidence reached her.
At the time, she had been utterly disgraced in Burg Eltz., her fiancé calling off the engagement without hesitation. Bert expected her to reveal the evidence, to prove she had been framed by Lucca.
But she didn't. She endured the shame silently and left for Australia, carrying the weight of the scandal alone.
That had infuriated him beyond measure. From that moment on, Bert had thought of her as someone meek and easily dominated. And now, seeing her at the flowerbed, allowing Lucca to bully her without so much as a flinch, only confirmed that in his eyes, she was still that same docile " incompetent people."
Which was why he had teased her about being addicted to getting bullied—and judging by the glare she shot him, she clearly didn't appreciate his words.
Bert couldn't help but curl his lips into a faint, cold smile. She may have no temper for Lucca, but when it came to him, she certainly had plenty.
Bert shook his head at himself, thinking how ridiculous he'd been. Standing up for Catherine, confronting Lucca… all because he saw her being bullied like some helpless little dumpling. What did it have to do with him?
Still, from the way she looked at him, distant and reserved, it seemed she hadn't recognized him. Understandable—after that night, drugged and confused, how could she have known who he was?
But still… he had spent a night with her. Her first night. And now, even after everything, did she feel nothing at all?
Shaking his head at the mess of thoughts, Bert drove back to his company, preparing for the interviews with two new designers.
Meanwhile, Catherine returned to her mother's hospital room, her mind racing. After hours of deliberation, she made a decision—she would sell their apartment.
Borrowing money wasn't impossible—she had a close college friend, Riley, a rising model from a well-off family. Fifteen thousand would be no problem for her. But borrowing money meant debt, and Catherine couldn't stand the thought of owing anyone for years. That anxiety would gnaw at her every day.
And fifteen thousand was only a conservative estimate. The doctors had said nothing about potential emergencies during surgery, or future rehab and medication costs. If she borrowed, she would need at least twenty thousand.
The weight of such a massive debt was terrifying.
So, Catherine decided to sell the apartment she and her mother currently lived in. It was an older neighborhood, but the price was reasonable—if she lowered it slightly, it could sell fast. Around fifty thousand, she estimated. Once her mother recovered, they would rent a place, pay for the surgery, and use any leftover money for rehab and treatment.
Catherine also planned to find a steady job as soon as possible, to rebuild a stable life for herself and her mother.
She had once thought she would never return to this heartbreak-filled city, but now, she had no choice but to survive here.
Back in the hospital room, she told Renata her plan. Her mother's eyes welled with tears, and she shook her head.
"No… we can't sell the apartment. This is the only inheritance I can leave you. I was even saving it to be your dowry one day…"
Renata, always proud, could not hold back her grief. Other girls had loving parents, a life filled with family warmth. Catherine had none of that. Her father was gone, their family broken. And now, even the one stable thing—their apartment—would be sold because of her illness. How could Renata bear it?
Catherine stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her mother, her voice choked with emotion.
"Mom… if the apartment's gone, we'll rent. If the money's gone, we'll earn it again. But I can't live without you."
Catherine's words broke through Renata's defenses. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unrestrained and unstoppable.
Over the years, mother and daughter had clung to each other like lifelines. Each was the other's anchor—if one fell, the other would be lost.
Renata understood Catherine's feelings better than anyone. When she first learned about her illness and the astronomical costs of surgery, her initial thought had been dark: maybe it would be better to just let herself die. That way, she wouldn't drag her daughter down.
But now, Catherine's words—"I can't live without you"—pierced straight through her despair. They hurt, yes, but they also woke her up.
Renata held her daughter tightly, pressing her to her chest, and then brushed away her own tears.
"All right… I'll listen to you. I'll live. I still haven't seen you get married yet," she whispered.
Catherine, for the first time in days, smiled through her tears. In that cold, sterile hospital room filled with the sharp scent of disinfectant, mother and daughter found warmth in each other's embrace. They encouraged one another silently, strengthened by shared determination.
With the financial strategy settled and a plan for the future in place, Renata insisted Catherine return home to rest. She had traveled all this way without even stopping for a sip of water.
Catherine grabbed her luggage and took a taxi home—but there was no time to rest. She immediately posted rental listings, followed by a sale listing for the apartment, and then crafted a new résumé, submitting it to multiple design positions online.
She had studied design, specializing in jewelry. Her fascination with jewelry stemmed from childhood visits to Magee Channing's boutique. Even as a little girl, she had been captivated by the glittering gems, pressed against the display counter, unable to look away.
"I want to be a jewelry designer when I grow up," she had told Magee Channing innocently, eyes sparkling with ambition. "I want to create even more beautiful pieces."
Magee Channing had lifted her high above his head, beaming with pride. "You'll go far, my little girl," he had said.
But now…
Catherine looked at her current situation and could only feel bitter irony. Magee Channing had once treated her well. Yet over the years, Lucca's mother's influence, coupled with the humiliation Catherine's own mother had caused during the divorce, had pushed him into neglecting her almost entirely.
And with Lucca's mother giving Magee Channing a son, Catherine's presence became even more invisible in his eyes.
Thinking of all this, Catherine felt the sting of tears at the corner of her eyes. She wiped them away, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. Shaking off the droplets, she stood and began packing. Before selling the apartment, she needed to secure a rental first—a place for her and her mother to call home.
The next two days were a whirlwind, but Catherine handled everything systematically. The rental was secured, the apartment sold, and each step fell into place smoothly. For Catherine, currently juggling so many crises, that little sense of order was a comfort beyond measure.
Once Catherine got the money from selling the apartment, the very first thing she did was head straight to the hospital. She handed over the payment and finalized her mother's surgery schedule with the doctor. The doctor advised her to act as quickly as possible, so after discussing it with Renata, Catherine decided the surgery would take place the very next day.
That afternoon, Catherine stayed by her mother's bedside, keeping Renata company. Now that the surgery was officially set, Catherine felt a knot in her stomach tightening like iron. She tried to stay composed on the outside, but inside, nerves and fear churned violently.
When confirming the procedure, the doctor had explained all the possible risks. In the worst-case scenario, Renata might never wake up. Even if she did, there could be permanent damage—loss of speech or other unforeseen complications. Of course, the doctor assured her that they would do everything in their power to ensure a successful operation.
But knowing all the potential dangers made Catherine's heart tremble.
She had already been through so much in her twenty-six years, yet this was different. This wasn't about her own life, her own pride, or her own hardships—it was about the life of the person she cared for most. Her mother's life. Her happiness, her future—everything—depended on it. If something went wrong, if her mother never woke up, Catherine felt as though she would have nothing left to live for.
No matter how strong she usually seemed, she was still just a girl. In moments of fear and vulnerability like this, she desperately wanted someone to lean on, someone to comfort her, even if it was just a hug.
But there was no one. No one to share her fear with, no one to hold her.
Her phone buzzed on the side table. Catherine glanced at it. Magee Channing.