Chapter 246: Her Plan
The doctor could not believe his eyes. Almost unconsciously, he reached out and wiped the monitor screen, as though doing so might somehow alter the readings he was seeing.
"Every test we performed met the criteria for brain death," he said, staring at the data in disbelief. "There were no brainstem reflexes. No spontaneous breathing. The EEG showed only sporadic residual bursts."
"Except," Catherine said, turning her gaze toward the monitor, a knowing smile gracing her face, "those weren’t residual bursts."
There was no burst of joy from her. No tears of relief. No jumping or celebrating.
Because she had already believed he was alive.
She pointed at the monitor. "There is organized cortical activity."
"There is..." The doctor slowly stood up. He had never seen anything like this before. Perhaps this was one of those cases—the kind medical journals wrote about decades later. The kind people called miracles.
Catherine, however, had already moved.
She walked to the observation window and pressed her hand gently against the glass, as though she were caressing Maximilian from beyond it.
"Anima eius adhuc hic manet, mei causa... promisit enim..." she whispered softly, for no one else’s ears.
His soul still remains here, because of me... for he has promised.
The doctor was already moving, his shock giving way to purpose as he began outlining a new treatment plan and issuing fresh orders to his team.
"Nothing is certain yet," he cautioned as the room around him sprang back to life. "He’s still in danger. Even if he wakes up, he may have to relearn everything."
Catherine merely smiled.
Maximilian was with her.
And he would return.
Entirely.
He would come back exactly as he was.
"Ah," she murmured, glancing down at herself at last. "I need a proper shower. And a new set of clothes. And I am hungry!"
Only now did she realize she was still dressed in a hospital gown, her hair disheveled and her appearance utterly improper.
What a fool.
What a coward.
She had spent days drowning in despair when she should have trusted him.
After all, he had promised.
Alexander looked at her, and a sigh escaped him unconsciously.
He had been terrified for her.
But now she was hungry. She cared about herself again. About her appearance.
She was back.
Catherine took a proper shower, changed into fresh clothes and shoes, and ate the meal Sophia had prepared for her. Only after finishing the meal did she finally begin to feel like herself again.
Just as she set aside the empty plate, Sebastian entered the room.
He looked as though he wanted to rain hell upon the earth.
"It was Dorian," he said, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles stood out sharply. "He made elaborate plans to kidnap you during the transfer to the hospital and keep you with him."
Catherine reached for a glass of wine.
She needed it.
"How could he put her life in danger because of his obsession with her?" Alexander asked, disbelief evident in his voice.
He had worked with politicians. He had dealt with the upper echelons of society. He had negotiated with literal psychopaths and sociopaths.
And yet he was still shocked beyond belief.
"Why do you seem surprised?" Catherine asked calmly as she swirled the wine in her glass. "If he can’t have it, no one else can. That’s his principle."
Alexander and Sebastian exchanged glances.
Alexander’s heart ached. The fact that someone had treated his sister this way filled him with helpless fury.
But Catherine did not look surprised.
She looked as though she had expected nothing else.
She knew they wanted to talk to her further, but instead she walked straight toward Maximilian’s room.
She needed to think.
She needed to think about her next steps because, until now, Maximilian had been handling all the battles for her.
And now Maximilian had been taken out. Brutally. By Dorian.
Once again, in this lifetime, Dorian had managed to hurt someone more precious to her than her own life.
And Catherine knew that she had to stop him before he took someone else from her.
She needed revenge. She needed to strike Dorian where it would hurt the most.
But where?
How?
The doctors looked up as she approached the ICU, clearly intending to stop her. Yet after a moment, they stepped aside and allowed her through.
After carefully following the required safety procedures, Catherine entered. She sat beside Maximilian. The machines surrounding him continued their endless beeping. He still could not breathe on his own. Several of his ribs remained broken.
For a long time, she simply sat there, looking at him.
Then she began speaking.
In Latin.
She spoke about Dorian. About the anger burning inside her. About the plans she wanted to set in motion.
She talked as though Maximilian were listening.
And perhaps he was.
Over the past months, she had spent so much time with him that, as she spoke, she could almost hear what he would say in response.
So she altered her plans, adjusted them, reshaped them into something Maximilian would approve of.
Well... Not entirely.
But she had come up with a plan.
"If you don’t like my plan, get up and stop me," she said softly.
It was impossible.
The damage he had suffered was catastrophic. Damage that probably would have been hers if Maximilian had not intervened.
Yes, the airbags would have absorbed much of the impact had the truck struck her car. But it probably would have been her lying in this hospital bed. Not him.
"I love you, Maximilian," she whispered, pressing her lips gently against the back of his hand.
It was still difficult to see him like this.
She couldn’t even smell his scent. Just the scent of the hospital was on him. There were so many tubes connected to him, so many machines surrounding him, each one reminding her of how close she had come to losing him.
But he was warm... that was enough. For now.
Her eyes drifted toward the monitors. The respiratory readings... They were improving. Slowly. Steadily.
"You do not like my plan, do you, Maximilian?" she asked softly.
As if answering her, a sharp beep sounded from one of the monitors.
And then... Maximilian suddenly began choking on the tube.
Catherine froze.
As he struggled, another sound echoed through the room.
Click.
The bracelet on her wrist had opened.
By itself.
Catherine stared at it in shock.
But that was not the most pressing thing now. Maximilian was choking on the tube. She pressed the call button and still shouted. "Nurse! Doctor!" she shouted, already standing.
Medical staff rushed into the room.
The doctor quickly assessed Maximilian and began issuing orders. A moment later, they carefully removed the breathing tube.
Everyone watched the monitors. The machine suddenly started to beep loudly.
"Oxygen desaturation!" someone shouted and tehy all moved.
Catherine simply watched, holding her breath.
And then...
The respiratory markers continued to improve.
And then...
Maximilian took a breath. On his own.
The doctor stared at the readings.
"I thought it would take a week," he muttered in disbelief. "At least three days. He’s recovering at an incredible rate."
Catherine looked at Maximilian, a slow smile spreading across her face.
That’s it, Maximilian.
Get angry.
Stand up.
Her smile sharpened into something colder.
I’ll get back at Dorian for you and for my son.
During the next three days, every business belonging to members of the Preston family suffered serious losses.
Every single one of them.
By the end of the second day, Catherine unblocked Dorian’s number.
On the morning of the third day, a message arrived.
[Waiting for your return, My Queen.]
Catherine stared at the text for a long moment. Then, that very afternoon, she packed her bags, and walked toward Dorian.
Toward his tent... towards his empire...
This time, however, she descended not from a carriage, but from her private jet.
Waiting for her on the tarmac was Dorian himself, beside his Maybach.
Waiting for his Queen to return, not knowing, this time, that was not the maiden princess walking toward him, but a queen who had already set things in motion.