Shackled To The Enemy King

"This is not how a man acts, Caleb," Catherine said, her voice steady and composed despite the tension coiling tightly in the air around them.

It would have been easy to let the moment overwhelm her, to step back and allow the men behind her to take control, especially with three of them already poised to defend her without hesitation.

But even if she had been alone, even if there had been no one to stand behind her, she would have said the same. This wasn’t about protection. This was about principle.

Yes, the Preston men had always been known for their tempers, for the way anger came to them quickly and fiercely, but that had never been an excuse to lose control, not like this, not in front of a woman, not in a way that stripped dignity from the room itself. And not just her. Any woman.

Caleb opened his mouth as if to argue, but the words never came. Catherine simply raised her brows and tilted her head ever so slightly, and something in that quiet authority stopped him. She might have been younger than him, but that did not change what she was to him.

His aunt.

And more than that, someone he had been taught, however imperfectly, to respect.

"Watch your mouth," she continued, her tone firm but no longer sharp. "Shouting helps no one. And..."

She paused.

The words she truly wanted to say pressed at the edge of her tongue—that if this was how he carried himself, he had no business stepping into a marriage, no right to promise stability to someone else when he couldn’t hold his own temper—but she held it back. Not now. Not when he was already teetering between anger and restraint.

William had already moved closer to her. "I’ll handle him," he said, his voice low but controlled.

Catherine gave a small nod, accepting it without argument, and turned away from the confrontation, choosing to step out of it rather than escalate it further.

But before she fully left, her gaze shifted instinctively, to Maximilian.

She searched his face.

He looked calm. Too calm.

And that, more than anything else in that moment, unsettled her.

She offered him a small smile, a quiet reassurance that she was fine, that this didn’t need to become something bigger than it already was. The last thing she wanted was for Caleb to face the kind of retaliation Maximilian was capable of when pushed, especially over something she considered, at its core, a contained issue.

Maximilian didn’t return the smile.

Instead, as her eyes lingered on him, he simply rolled his eyes, a subtle, almost restrained reaction that somehow carried more weight than any visible anger could have. He had agreed to her suggestion reluctantly.

It was enough.

Catherine turned and walked inside, the tension slowly loosening its grip on her as distance formed between her and the scene she had just stepped away from. Once she was alone, she lifted a hand to her chest, pressing lightly as she tried to steady the rhythm of her heartbeat.

That feeling... It lingered. And it was... nice.

To have someone willing to get angry for her, to step forward without hesitation, to defend her as though it were the most natural thing in the world....

But what unsettled her more, what stayed with her, was something else entirely.

Even in that anger, he had listened to her. He had restrained himself.

He had not surged forward like a storm, breaking everything in his path, but held himself back, because of her.

That control... That quiet, deliberate restraint...

It did something to her.

More and more, she found herself noticing him in ways she hadn’t before, her thoughts returning to him without permission, her awareness of him sharpening with every passing moment.

And her heart... It refused to stay still.

She drew in a slow breath, then let it out just as carefully, as though trying to settle something far more complicated than a simple reaction.

This feeling...

This restless, consuming, impossible thing... Was this really what love felt like?

Catherine walked down the quiet hallway and stopped in front of Sammy’s room, lifting her hand to knock. The sound was soft but firm, and after a brief pause, the door creaked open.

Sammy stood there, hair disheveled, eyes half-lidded, clearly dragged out of sleep rather than willingly awake.

"Hi, Cathy..." she mumbled, before turning without waiting for a response and trudging back to her bed, collapsing face-first into the mattress as though gravity had suddenly claimed her.

Catherine stepped inside, closing the door behind her as her gaze swept the dim, heavy room. "It’s almost lunchtime, and you’re still in bed?" she asked, her tone carrying mild disbelief.

Sammy turned her head just enough to glare at her, then flopped back onto the pillow with a groan. "My head hurts. Everything is too bright..." she muttered. "It’s Sunday. What are you doing here?"

Catherine didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked over to the curtains and, without the slightest hesitation, pulled them open, letting sunlight flood the room. She followed it by opening the windows, allowing fresh air to push out the stale heaviness.

Sammy let out a deep, pained growl. "You’re cruel," she complained, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

Unmoved, Catherine poured a glass of water and handed it to her. "It would help if you weren’t hungover," she said calmly.

Sammy pushed herself up with visible effort, took the glass, and drank it in slow gulps before exhaling deeply. "How do you never get hungover?" she asked, squinting at her.

Catherine gave a small shrug. "I’m built differently."

Sammy huffed, somewhere between annoyance and reluctant amusement, before settling back slightly, though at least now she remained upright.

"Your brother shouted at me," Catherine said, watching her closely.

"Caleb?" Sammy scoffed immediately. "He’s a petulant man-child."

Catherine didn’t smile. "Do you know why?"

Sammy rubbed her temple before nodding faintly. "That employee from the ranch, the one who got hurt? The one you sent for treatment?"

"I heard he’s doing better," Catherine replied.

"Of course, you did," Sammy said with a yawn. "You always keep tabs." Her eyes flicked toward Catherine, something more thoughtful slipping into her gaze. "What does it feel like, being so perfect all the time?"

Catherine pressed her lips together, letting the comment pass without acknowledgment. "What happened with Caleb?" she asked instead, redirecting the conversation with quiet insistence.

Sammy sighed and leaned back slightly. "Turns out the ranch is liable for the accident. The fence needed fixing, but everyone kept putting it off. This time, it backfired."

"That’s terrible," Catherine said softly.

And it was.

But it wasn’t uncommon either. In operations that large, things slipped through cracks, responsibilities blurred, and sometimes, consequences followed. Even if the fault didn’t lie directly with those at the top, the responsibility always did.

"They followed your instructions," Sammy continued. "Handled the liability, arranged compensation, everything was being taken care of..." She paused, then raised her brows slightly. "But my dear idiot brother decided to interfere and tried to shift the blame onto the employee."

Catherine clicked her tongue, a flicker of disapproval crossing her face. "That’s not how we operate."

"No," Sammy agreed dryly. "It’s not."

She stretched slightly before continuing, "Dad found out. And you know how he is—doesn’t matter who it is, he’ll tear into them anyway. Caleb got an earful, right there in front of everyone."

Catherine could already see where this was going.

"And," Sammy added, her tone turning just a little sharper, "Dad said you were better suited for his job than Caleb, although you’re rarely home."

Catherine exhaled quietly.

"Oh."

Understanding settled in.

Caleb was young, proud, and already carrying the weight of expectation on his shoulders. Being corrected was one thing—but being compared, and unfavorably at that, especially in front of others... that cut deeper than most would admit.

And instead of facing it, he had redirected it.

Onto her.

Whatever it was, Catherine knew William would handle it. He always did.

Caleb, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Pride, immaturity, and wounded ego were a volatile combination, and he was carrying all three far too loudly for someone in his position. He had a long way to go, whether he realized it or not.

Catherine reached for her phone, her thoughts already shifting as she opened the attachment William had sent. This wasn’t casual. This wasn’t routine. And for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was something Sammy should know.

The screen lit up.

Her eyes moved once.

Then stilled.

And in the next breath, widened.

"Why are you here?" Sammy’s voice cut through, quieter now, more alert despite the remnants of her hangover. "It’s not about Caleb, is it?"

Catherine didn’t answer. She couldn’t—not yet. Her attention was locked onto the screen, her mind struggling to catch up with what she was reading, the words blurring and sharpening all at once as the weight of them began to settle.

Sammy frowned, watching her, and then, suspiciously leaned forward and pulled the phone straight from Catherine’s hand.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, her tone shifting, a forced lightness covering the curiosity. "Something scandalous?"