Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 140: The Clingy Child

Catherine reacted instantly.

The moment she saw the door ajar and that small figure standing there, her mind snapped back into focus. She grabbed the duvet and yanked it upward, covering Maximilian first out of sheer instinct before pulling the rest around herself. At the same time, Maximilian, equally startled, reached for her robe and pulled it closed, his movements hurried but controlled.

For one brief, horrifying second, Catherine’s thoughts went completely blank.

Of all people...

Of all moments...

It had to be her.

Joanne stood at the doorway, clutching her little bunny plushie, her wide eyes fixed on them with a kind of calm curiosity that made the situation infinitely worse.

Catherine’s brain struggled to restart.

No panic. Don’t panic.

She had seen what happened when children misunderstood things... misinterpretations that spiraled into something far worse simply because no one explained them properly. She had watched the movie "Atonement". She was not about to let this turn into that kind of situation.

But how exactly was she supposed to explain this?

To a six-year-old?

Was she even supposed to explain it? 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

What was the correct way to handle this without making it awkward... or worse, memorable for all the wrong reasons?

Her thoughts tangled over each other, but she forced herself to act.

First things first... She pushed Maximilian away just enough to create space, sitting up and pulling the duvet tighter around herself as she turned toward the door.

"Joanne..." she began, her voice carefully steady despite everything. "We were just—"

She faltered.

Maximilian, thankfully understanding the urgency, slipped out from under the covers with minimal movement, grabbed what he needed and disappeared into the bathroom without a word.

Catherine swallowed and tried again.

"He... couldn’t find something," she said, smoothing her robe as she stood up, willing her expression into something resembling normalcy. "And I was helping him."

It was a terrible explanation. She knew it.

But it was the best she could come up with, under the circumstances.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quickly, redirecting before Joanne could ask questions of her own.

Joanne tilted her head slightly, still hugging her plushie. "Mom would say she was playing a game with Dad... if I find them like this," she said matter-of-factly.

Catherine froze.

Her eyebrow twitched.

...A game?

So this was not curiosity. This was... a pattern.

"How did you get here?" Catherine asked, her tone sharpening despite herself. "Does your mother know you’re here?"

"No," Joanne said easily, already wandering further inside as though nothing was wrong. "I wanted to sleep with you."

"Joanne!"

This time, the reprimand came without hesitation.

Catherine followed her into the living room, her earlier embarrassment now giving way to genuine concern. "You cannot walk around alone at night like that, Sweetheart. It doesn’t matter if we’re inside the compound; it’s still not safe."

"I know, I know," Joanne said, waving her hand dismissively as she climbed onto the couch. "But it’s been a long time since we slept together."

That stopped Catherine for a moment.

The irritation softened, just slightly.

Before leaving for Meridon, Joanne had almost always slept beside her, clinging to her stories, listening with bright, fascinated eyes even when Catherine rambled about things far too complex for a child her age.

Catherine exhaled quietly.

"I miss you too," she said, her voice gentler now as she walked closer. "But this isn’t how you do it. Your parents are probably worried sick right now—"

"They won’t notice," Joanne interrupted calmly. "I looked through the keyhole. They’re busy making babies."

Catherine paused.

There was no mischief in her expression. No embarrassment. Just blunt, observational honesty.

Catherine closed her eyes for a brief second.

Of course.

When she opened them again, she looked at the little girl... really looked at her this time, and realized this wasn’t just about tonight.

This was about boundaries. About curiosity. About a child who was seeing things without understanding them.

And if she didn’t handle this carefully now...

It would only get worse later.

Catherine sat down across from her, folding her hands in her lap, her tone shifting into something calm but firm.

"Joanne," she said gently, "there are some things adults do that aren’t games, and they’re also not things children need to go looking for."

"I know it all. I read a book," Joanne said.

Catherine let out a deep breath. Now, she needed to find where a six year old got books regarding that.

"If you’re ever confused about something, you can ask me—but you shouldn’t try to find out like this. Do you understand?"

Joanne blinked, considering her words.

Then she nodded slowly.

"...Okay."

Catherine held her gaze for a moment longer, making sure her words had settled, that they had not simply brushed past the child without meaning. Only when Joanne gave that small, thoughtful nod did she allow herself to exhale, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

"Now," she said gently, rising to her feet and extending her hand, "we’re going to my room."

And afterward... she would have a very serious conversation with her parents.

As they walked, Catherine pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Richard, informing him that Joanne was with her. It was better he knew now than panic later.

She had barely slipped the phone back into place when small fingers wrapped around her hand, stopping her mid-step.

"I do not like him..." Joanne said quietly.

Catherine stilled.

There was something in the way she said it—too calm, too certain—that made her turn immediately. Her brows drew together as she lowered herself to Joanne’s level, searching her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice softer now, but edged with concern.

Joanne didn’t answer right away.

For a brief moment, there was only silence between them, the kind that stretched just long enough to feel deliberate.

Then she shook her head.

"Nothing," she said, slipping her hand free as though the moment had never happened, and walked ahead.

Catherine remained there for a second longer, watching her, something unsettled taking root in her chest.

By the time she entered the room, Maximilian had already returned, fully dressed, as though the earlier moment had never existed. There was a brief flicker of awareness between them, but neither spoke of it.

Not now.

Not in front of her.

Catherine changed quickly, then slipped into bed beside Joanne, pulling the little girl close. The familiar warmth, the soft weight of her against her side, grounded her in a way nothing else could.

"I love you, Gigi..." Joanne murmured sleepily, her voice small now, almost fragile.

Catherine’s expression softened as she wrapped her arm around her.

"Love you too, Joanne baby..." she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

The exhaustion of the night finally caught up to her. Between the emotional unraveling, the confrontation with her past, and the quiet storm still lingering in her chest, sleep came faster than she expected.

Her breathing steadied.

Her body relaxed.

And before she knew it, she was gone to the world.

A few moments passed.

Then...

Joanne’s eyes slowly opened.

The softness from before was gone, replaced by something far more aware, far more deliberate. She loosened her hold on the plushie, letting it fall to the side as her small hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly through Catherine’s hair.

Her touch was gentle.

Almost affectionate.

But her gaze... was not.

"Quomodo eum iterum fidere potes, Katerina?" she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Translation: "How can you trust him again, Katerina?

There was no childish confusion in her tone.

Only quiet disappointment.

She paused for a moment, and then added, her voice softer still...

"Shall I help you get rid of him?"