Chapter 92: Opening Up
The heavy, sterile silence of the study still clung to Jake long after the call with Dr. Chen ended. He needed to wash the taste of "Asherman’s Syndrome" and "fifteen percent" out of his mouth. He picked up his phone and called Catharine.
"Hey," he said, his voice softening the moment she picked up. "The day’s been... heavy. I want to take you out tonight. Somewhere nice. Somewhere we don’t have to think about work or the city."
"I’d love that," Catharine replied, sounding like she’d just stepped out of a long meeting herself. "I’ll head straight to the Zenith after I finish these last few filings. We can leave from there?"
"I’ll be waiting."
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The elevator chime echoed softly through the foyer of the Zenith, a sound that usually signaled the intrusion of the outside world. But for Jake, leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of water, it was the sound of the only person who made the penthouse feel like anything other than a glass-walled fortress.
Catharine stepped out, her shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of her professional blazer. She looked exhausted, her hair pulled back in a practical bun that had started to fray at the temples after a long day of legal filings. She began to kick off her heels before she even reached the rug, letting out a long, weary sigh.
"These files are growing legs, I swear," she muttered, offering a tired smile as she saw him. "I think they’re multiplying in the dark."
Jake walked over, meeting her halfway. He didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a quiet embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo—a sharp contrast to the sterile, metallic smell of his study.
"Forget the files for a few hours," he whispered into her hair. "Let’s go out. Somewhere where the waiters don’t know the word ’litigation.’ I want to take you to the Meridian Crown."
Catharine pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his face. She saw the lingering shadows there—the traces of the heavy afternoon he’d had—and she didn’t ask questions. She just nodded.
"Give me forty minutes," she said. "I’ll come straight back out here so we can leave together."
When the bedroom doors finally opened again, the transformation was total. Jake had already changed, standing by the window in a bespoke charcoal-grey suit. The fabric had a subtle, matte sheen that caught the city lights, worn over a black silk shirt with the top buttons left open. He looked polished but effortless, the image of a man who owned the horizon he was staring at.
Catharine stepped into the light of the living area, and Jake felt his breath hitch. She wore a floor-length, midnight-blue velvet gown that seemed to drink in the shadows of the room. It was backless, the delicate silk straps forming a ’V’ that highlighted the grace of her shoulders, and the gold pendant Jake had given her rested perfectly against her skin.
’She looks like she belongs in a palace,’ Jake thought, his heart thudding. ’And I’m just the man trying to make sure the world is worthy of her.’
"You look..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don’t think ’incredible’ covers it tonight."
Catharine walked toward him, the velvet whispering against the floor. She reached up, straightening the collar of his silk shirt with practiced tenderness. "You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Rivers. Are you ready to go?"
"More than ready," Jake said, taking her hand and interlacing his fingers with hers.
They headed back to the elevator, the heavy atmosphere of the day finally beginning to lift, replaced by the quiet, electric anticipation of a night where, for a few hours at least, the rest of the world didn’t exist.
---
The Meridian Crown sat atop one of the highest towers in the central district, a glass-walled sanctuary that seemed to float above the city lights. When they arrived, the maître d’ recognized Jake instantly, guiding them past the bustling bar to a secluded corner table that offered a panoramic view of the Aurelia skyline.
They ordered a bottle of vintage Bordeaux and settled on the chef’s tasting menu—pan-seared scallops with truffle foam followed by wagyu beef. For a while, the conversation was light, a needed buffer against the world outside. But midway through the main course, Catharine’s phone vibrated on the table.
She glanced at the screen and hesitated. For a moment, her old instinct to hide her private chaos flickered in her eyes, but then she looked at Jake—really looked at him—and remembered he wasn’t just a partner anymore; he was her anchor. She didn’t excuse herself. She took the call right there.
"Hey, Lily," Catharine said, her voice turning warm and protective. "No, you’re not interrupting. How are you?"
Jake watched her intently as he cut a small piece of wagyu. He didn’t need the Eye to see the shift in her posture. Based on the tenderness in her tone and the way she talked about "final exams," he guessed it was her younger sister.
"That’s amazing," Catharine said, smiling. "Study hard, okay? I’m so excited for you to come to the city. We’re going to have so much fun... I promise. I love you too. Bye."
She set the phone down, her smile lingering but tinged with a sudden, sharp sadness. She took a slow sip of her wine, looking out at the city lights before turning back to Jake.
"That was my sister," she said softly. "She’s starting her finals. She can’t wait to visit."
"She sounds like she’s worked hard," Jake noted.
Catharine nodded, her gaze dropping to the tablecloth. She stayed silent for a long beat, the clink of silverware from the other tables feeling miles away. "She’s the only reason I kept going for a long time. My family... it wasn’t always like this, Jake."
She began to talk, the words coming out in a low, steady stream as if a dam had finally broken. She told him about her father—how he used to be the kind of man who would carry her on his shoulders and bring home small treats just to see her smile. But then came the layoff. The loss of his job had stripped away his pride, and he’d filled the hole with alcohol and gambling.
"It happened so fast," she whispered. "The debts piled up. My mom started working two jobs, coming home with her hands raw just to keep us fed, but he’d... he’d wait for her. He’d force the money out of her purse so he could go back to the tables. When I finally got into college, I thought I was free. I thought I could finally breathe."
She let out a shaky breath, her fingers trembling slightly around the stem of her glass. "But he’d show up at the campus. He’d find me in the library or outside my dorm, demanding money. He told me if I didn’t give him enough, he’d find someone ’wealthy’ to marry me and Lily off to. He talked about us like we were assets he could liquidate to pay off his bookies."
Jake felt a cold, familiar stone settle in his gut. Hearing her describe that kind of betrayal—a parent turning their own children into currency—hit him with a visceral force. He remembered the man from the gates incidents, the pathetic, hollowed-out version of a father he’d encountered. He suddenly felt a surge of regret that he hadn’t let the authorities bury the man when he had the chance.
"Cath," Jake said, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. His grip was firm, a silent promise. "I’m sorry. I had no idea it went that deep."
"I started working part-time just to have ’tribute’ to give him so he wouldn’t hurt my mom or come for Lily," she admitted, a tear finally escaping and tracking down her cheek. "That’s why I started hiding. That’s why I moved around so much."
Jake squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing over her knuckles. "You don’t have to hide anymore. Not from him. Not from anyone. You carried that for so long... you don’t have to do it alone."
They finished dinner in a comfortable, reflective silence. The weight of the secret had been heavy, but the sharing of it seemed to have cleared the air. On the way home, Catharine asked if they could stop by her shared apartment.
"I just need to grab a few more things," she said. "Now that I’m spending so much time at the Zenith, I feel like half my life is in boxes there."
When they arrived at the modest apartment, her roommates were in the kitchen. Seeing Catharine walk in with Jake—and seeing her pack more than just an overnight bag—their faces fell into expressions of worry.
"Cath? Are you... moving out?" one of them asked, looking at the suitcases. "We can’t really cover the full rent if you leave suddenly."
Catharine smiled gently, pausing her packing. "No, I’m not moving out. I’m just taking some essentials. I’ll keep paying my share of the rent as usual, don’t worry. This is still my home too."
The relief on their faces was palpable, and after a few more minutes of gathering books and clothes, she and Jake headed back to the car.
Back at the Zenith, the world felt smaller, safer. The sprawling penthouse, usually a symbol of Jake’s ambition and power, felt like a sanctuary. They didn’t talk much as they got ready for bed. There was no need for grand gestures or more heavy words.
They spent the night tangled together on top of the covers, just cuddling. Catharine pressed her face into the crook of Jake’s neck, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat acting as a lullaby. For the first time in years, the fear of a sudden knock on the door or a demanding phone call felt distant. She felt safe.
And Jake, holding her close, felt the crushing pressure he had been feeling lately finally recede into the background. In the quiet of the room, he was just a man holding the person he loved, finding his own version of peace in the middle of the storm.
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