Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 107: Is Redemption Possible?

"Why did she do that?" Catherine asked again.

There was no anger left in her voice now. No sharp edges. Only exhaustion.

She felt hollowed out. Drained.

This was not a jealous debutante or a scheming noblewoman. It was a woman she had admired... respected... loved in her own way. She had truly believed she would one day call her Mother.

Why would that woman destroy her so thoroughly?

Maximilian swallowed.

"My mother..." He shut his eyes briefly, steadying himself. "She listened to people who said we weren’t compatible. That we didn’t even like each other."

Catherine blinked. "What?"

"In everyone else’s eyes, we were always arguing. Always challenging each other. We never acted... affectionate." His voice turned rough. "No one knew what was in our hearts."

A wry sound escaped her.

So that was it?

She hadn’t followed him around like a lovesick girl. She hadn’t clung to his arm at banquets or giggled at everything he said. She had matched him word for word, glare for glare, fire for fire.

And the court had decided that meant hatred.

I didn’t think we fought so much that people assumed we would murder each other after marriage... How does such a misunderstanding even happen?

"She could have spoken to me," Catherine said quietly. "Just once."

She might not have confessed openly back then, but she had loved him enough to die for him. Surely a mother would have seen that. Surely she would have seen the way Catherine’s eyes softened when Maximilian wasn’t looking.

Maximilian’s jaw tightened.

"And then... the vow ribbon incident," he murmured, turning his face away as if ashamed to meet her gaze.

"Ah." Catherine let out a humorless laugh. "Your mother thought you were in love with Lady Charlotte."

The absurdity of it almost made her dizzy.

"You couldn’t explain it to her?" she pressed. "You couldn’t tell her that you weren’t in love with Charlotte?"

"I did." His voice broke. "Katerina, I did. But..."

He reached for her shoulder without thinking. His fingers dug in slightly, desperate, pleading.

She stiffened.

He immediately let go, stepping back as if burned.

"I didn’t understand everything at the time," he said hoarsely. "But when I was fifteen... a seer told my mother that the woman I loved the most would cause my death."

Catherine’s palm went cold. A seer?

Silence fell heavy between them.

"And she believed it?" Catherine asked, incredulous. "She saw everything through that prophecy?"

Maximilian met her gaze, his eyes red-rimmed.

"I’m not excusing her," he said quietly.

In some twisted way, the prophecy had not been entirely wrong.

He had died because of Katerina. By her hands. For her sake.

But his mother’s attempt to tear them apart, to outmaneuver fate with cruelty and control, had only driven them further into destruction.

"And Charlotte’s father..." Maximilian continued, bitterness creeping into his tone. "Once the rumor spread, he saw an opportunity. A chance to raise his daughter’s standing. He whispered into my mother’s ear. Moved pieces behind the scenes."

Ambition. Fear. Prophecy.

And in the middle of it...

Katerina.

The one sacrificed.

"That’s enough," Catherine said suddenly.

Her head was spinning.

A prophecy.

Political ambition.

A mother’s paranoia.

And she had been branded immoral, to "save" him. The distance a mother would go to protect her son. So, all that affection... was it all an act?

Catherine gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head.

All of this... because they had loved each other quietly. Because they had been too proud to show the world what was in their hearts.

And... she had paid the price.

Maximilian stepped closer, his voice raw. "If I could live that moment again, Katerina... I would choose you. I would choose you every single time." His eyes searched hers desperately. "Can I earn redemption?"

There was more tangled beneath it all: politics, prophecy, pride... but at the core, this was what he wanted.

Her.

Catherine shook her head slowly and stepped back.

"No..." Her tears fell freely now. "Can’t you see? We ruin each other. The world twists us until we bleed. Maybe... maybe we were never meant to be together."

The words sounded like surrender.

"Catherine, that’s not—"

Her phone rang.

The sharp sound cut through the room like a blade.

She glanced at the screen.

Bobby.

He would never call this early unless... Her fingers trembled as she answered. "Bobby?"

"Bean..." His voice tried to stay steady and failed. "We admitted Dad to the hospital. You should come home today."

Her heart dropped.

He was making it sound simple.

Too simple.

"Bobby... what’s wrong with Daddy?"

Maximilian stilled beside her.

"It’s nothing," Bobby rushed. "Just a surgery. He’ll feel better if he sees you. I’ve called Alex and Jon. They’re coming too—"

Catherine’s knees buckled. She caught the wall just in time. Maximilian was at her side instantly, one hand hovering at her back.

"Bobby," she whispered, tears already spilling. "Tell me what’s wrong with Daddy."

There was a long exhale on the other end.

"I don’t want to scare you, Cathy..." His voice cracked. "It’s a massive heart attack. They’re doing everything they can. Once he stabilizes, they’ll take him into surgery. Come home. As soon as possible."

Her breath hitched.

"Okay," she choked. "I’ll be there."

She ended the call and clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the sob that threatened to tear out of her. Her body slid down the wall.

Why now?

Why him?

What would she do without her father?

Her gaze fell to the bracelet around her wrist.

Her sobbing worsened.

Why was everything collapsing at once?

"Catherine..." Maximilian’s voice softened as he knelt in front of her.

"My Daddy..." She looked at him helplessly. "I need to go home. And..." She lifted her trembling wrist. "I can’t even go home."

The bracelet felt heavier than iron.

She broke down.

Maximilian pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, as if he could shield her from fate itself.

"We’re going," he said firmly. "Together. I’ll call the university on the way. Don’t think about anything else right now. Just breathe."

He helped her stand.

"I’ll book tickets. What’s the nearest airport?"

She wiped her tears with shaky fingers. She couldn’t waste time. She didn’t know how much time her father had left.

"Tickets?" she repeated faintly. "I haven’t flown commercial since I was three."

Even now, in the middle of devastation, the old Catherine flickered through.

Maximilian exhaled softly, almost grateful for the spark. He had almost forgotten that she said her home had a private airport. Of course, they had a jet. "Right. I’ll handle it."

She hurried to shower and change, moving on instinct. When she returned, she prepared the baby to stay with Amelia. Maximilian emerged from the bedroom dragging a suitcase.

"You’re not packing?" he asked — and immediately understood.

She was going home.

Home meant everything she needed was already there.

Catherine adjusted the bracelet once more, swallowing hard.

"Let’s go," she said.

And this time, she didn’t look back.