Shackled To The Enemy King

Catherine snatched the phone from Joanne’s hand and glanced at the screen.

Her breath stilled.

The number was already typed in, of a child abuse helpline. For a moment, she simply stared at it; at how easily, how recklessly, Joanne had decided to ruin a life.

Then her gaze lifted, slow and sharp.

"You’re really going to destroy him with a lie?" Catherine asked, her voice dropping into something cold, something dangerous. "Are you serious?"

Joanne lunged.

Her small hands clawed forward, grabbing at Catherine’s wrist, nails digging into her skin as she tried to wrench the phone back. The sudden force caught Catherine off guard, and the two of them stumbled, the struggle turning ugly in seconds.

"Give it back!" Joanne snapped, her composure cracking.

The car door opened.

Maximilian stepped in, his expression tightening the moment he saw them.

"Stay," Catherine ordered, not even looking at him.

Her tone left no room for argument.

She wouldn’t give Joanne even a sliver more to twist against him.

Maximilian froze, but only for a second. His eyes moved quickly, assessing, catching every detail...

The struggle.

The tension.

The thin line of red blooming along Catherine’s forearm.

"...You’re bleeding," he said, his voice low and controlled, but edged with something far less restrained.

Catherine’s jaw tightened.

"Will you stop it?" she snapped, her patience finally fracturing as Joanne’s nails dragged across her skin again.

And then, she moved. Her hand shot forward, fingers tangling into Joanne’s hair, gripping tight.

The motion was sharp. Decisive and final.

Joanne gasped, the fight in her faltering as the pain forced her still.

"I was holding back," Catherine said, her breath uneven, her voice no longer soft or pleading, but stripped bare, hardened by something far older than this moment, "because you were my mother... in another life."

Her grip tightened just enough to make the point unmistakable.

"But don’t test how far that restraint goes."

Joanne stilled. Not completely, but enough. Enough for the struggle to lose its chaos.

Catherine exhaled, her chest rising and falling as she finally gained control of the situation; of herself.

Her fingers remained in Joanne’s hair. Firm and unyielding.

And for the first time since this began, she was the one in control.

Maximilian’s gaze locked onto Catherine’s hand, twisted firmly in Joanne’s hair, and for a brief, disorienting moment, he saw two truths at once. To him, it was Catherine restraining someone who had crossed a line.

But to anyone else, any stranger who might pass by, it would look like something else entirely. An adult hurting a child. The kind of image that didn’t need context to destroy lives.

His jaw tightened as instinct took over. His eyes flicked to the road, scanning it quickly. It was empty. Not a single soul in sight. Even so, he didn’t hesitate. He reached forward and removed the SD card from the dashcam, his movements swift and deliberate, as if erasing a future that hadn’t yet happened.

Catherine noticed.

Of course, she did.

Even now, when everything stood on the edge of ruin, when a single accusation could burn his life to the ground, he was thinking of her first. Protecting her. Shielding her.

Something in her chest tightened at that, sharp and fleeting, but she buried it just as quickly as it came.

"Listen to me, Joanne."

Her voice cut through the tension, low and controlled, carrying a weight that demanded attention. Her grip remained firm, but her focus had sharpened into something far more dangerous than anger.

"You," she began, her gaze unrelenting, "a duke’s daughter who grew up surrounded by luxury... who married a man that treated you like you were his greatest treasure... and still chose to die the moment life tested you..."

Her words did not rise. They did not need to. The quiet intensity in them was far more cutting.

"If your mind has twisted this much despite all that," she continued, each word measured, deliberate, "then imagine me."

Her eyes darkened, something deeper surfacing beneath the surface.

"I endured eighteen years of conspiracies, hostility, and survival. Every single day was a calculation. Every step, a risk. Tell me, Mother..." Her lips curved faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "How twisted do you think I am?"

Maximilian felt it then... that shift in the air. He had seen Catherine angry before, had seen her cold, composed, even ruthless when she needed to be. But this... this was something else. Something heavier. Something that made even him hesitate.

Joanne seemed to feel it too. Her struggling slowed, her expression faltering under Catherine’s gaze.

"Go on," Catherine said suddenly, and just as abruptly, she released her.

The tension snapped.

She tossed the phone back into Joanne’s hands with careless precision. "Call," she added, almost lazily. "Anyone you want. I’ll wait."

Joanne stared at her, caught between confusion and disbelief, her fingers tightening around the phone as her gaze flickered from Catherine to Maximilian and back again, as if trying to understand what she had just been handed.

But Catherine wasn’t finished.

"Go ahead," she continued, her tone flattening into something merciless. "Brand him a predator. Let them plaster his face across headlines. Let his university issue statements, let the whispers spread, let every person who envies his success come forward with lies once the door is open."

Maximilian’s hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening as the implications settled in. His face drained of color. He knew exactly how such accusations worked. They didn’t need proof. They didn’t need truth. Once spoken, they stained everything. Even if he fought it, even if he proved himself innocent, it would never leave him. Not completely. Not ever.

"But remember this," Catherine said, her voice cutting through his thoughts like a blade.

"Beside every picture of him, there will be one of me."

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

"If he becomes a monster in their eyes," she continued, unwavering, "then I will be the one who stood beside him. The one who defended him. The one who refused to step away."

Her gaze met Joanne’s, steady and absolute.

"They won’t just curse him. They’ll curse me too, call me an enemy of women everywhere, call me names."

A slow breath left her lips, controlled, final.

"And our family?" she added, a faint bitterness threading through her calm. "You already know who they’ll believe."

Her eyes didn’t waver.

"And when that happens... this will be the last time you see me. I won’t come back. Not for you. Not for anyone."

The words were not loud, but they carried the weight of a promise she had already decided to keep.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Catherine exhaled softly, as if releasing something she had been holding in far too long, and turned away as though the matter was already settled.

Her gaze shifted to Maximilian, and just like that, the sharp edge in her presence softened into something deceptively ordinary.

"Drive," she said, almost casually. "I’m hungry."

The contrast was jarring.

Maximilian didn’t move.

His vision blurred before he could stop it, his chest tightening as something overwhelming rose within him. His eyes burned, and then the tears came, quiet and unrestrained.

When his mother had forced him to make that choice, he had chosen his mother, to protect her life and threw Catherine’s life under the bus. He had been willing to let her take the blame, to destroy her if it meant protecting his mother.

But Catherine...

She had chosen him .

Without hesitation. Without fear. Even against her own mother.

The realization struck deeper than anything else could have.

Because standing there, with everything laid bare before him, he understood one simple, devastating truth.

He did not deserve her. Not even a little.

"Are you driving or not?" Catherine asked.

Maximilian let out a deep breath. "As you wish," he said and started the car.

Catherine looked out the window, but she observed Joanne and what she was doing.

Come on... let us be... Please...

She begged in her heart. She was tired of choosing between the people she loved.