Chapter 211: Looming Danger
There was a pause.
"Love...?" Samantha repeated, as if tasting the word. Then she let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "I don’t know. Maybe not. But... he mattered."
Catherine didn’t press further.
Some memories didn’t need dissecting.
They simply stayed.
Catherine wasn’t convinced.
"Then why did you break up?" she asked, her tone quieter now, more probing than before.
Samantha hesitated, and for the first time since the call began, there was a small crack in her usual easy rhythm. "We were finishing university... and we decided to go our own ways," she said, almost too casually.
Catherine exhaled slowly.
That wasn’t an answer. Not really. It sounded like something said to close a door without admitting what was left behind on the other side.
"You should check if he’s still single," Catherine said after a moment, the suggestion coming from instinct more than thought. Something about the way Samantha spoke, the details she remembered, the softness in her voice—it didn’t feel finished.
Samantha laughed lightly. "I doubt it. He was smart, steady... the kind of guy who would’ve built a life by now. He’s probably settled somewhere with someone perfect." She paused, and then, almost deliberately, she shifted the conversation. "Anyway... you must be happy. I was planning to be jealous of you for getting married before me, but then I realized I should just be grateful you didn’t end up as the forever-spinster aunt."
Catherine smiled, her fingers absently threading through Maximilian’s hair as she leaned back into him. "Honestly... if not for this man, I probably would have," she admitted, her voice softer, thoughtful.
"That would’ve been a terrible waste," Maximilian murmured against her skin, his words warm and low, carrying quiet certainty.
Her lips curved, and her hand drifted lazily along his back, tracing idle patterns as she listened.
"I’ve lined up a few interviews in Kingston," Samantha continued. "I’m not thinking about dating right now. Maybe in a couple of years."
Catherine tilted her head slightly, a small smile lingering. "Somewhere out there, your person is probably thinking about you too," she said gently. "Don’t give up on that. If I could find someone... you definitely can."
Samantha huffed a laugh, but there was no real argument in it this time.
They spoke for a while longer, the conversation slipping into lighter topics, familiar teasing, and easy warmth. And by the time the call ended, the urgency, the intensity, the fragile edge of the moment that had existed before—it had all quietly faded.
Catherine lowered the phone and simply looked at Maximilian.
There was something deeply comforting in that stillness, in the way his presence filled the space without demanding anything from her. The weight of the past few days, the emotions, the work, the sudden rush of everything—they all caught up to her at once.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
And before she even realized it, she leaned into him and drifted off, her breathing evening out as sleep claimed her gently.
Maximilian watched her for a long moment.
A soft smile touched his lips as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "What a tease..." he murmured, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.
Then he exhaled quietly, a hint of amusement and resignation in the sound.
Interrupted again.
Carefully, he reached for his phone, glancing at the screen.
And then, His smile changed.
Subtle. Sharper.
Something had caught his attention.
"Hope you like this payback, Rathbourne..." Maximilian smirked.
-----
Meanwhile, in his office, Fitzgerald drove the box cutter straight into the apple in his hand, the blade sinking deep as juice burst out and ran down his fingers, sticky and sharp-scented.
His jaw tightened.
Two hundred million.
An entire film—months of work, years of planning, reputations tied to it—leaked onto pirated sites a week before release. Not a rumor, not a partial breach. The whole thing. Clean. Precise. Deliberate.
This wasn’t some amateur hack.
This was a message.
The door opened without ceremony.
Timothy walked in, his expression already set, already knowing. "This is what Whitmore can do," he said, his tone firm, controlled, as if trying to contain something that was already spiraling. "Stop now. If you retaliate, he won’t just respond—he’ll escalate. And you won’t win that."
Fitzgerald didn’t look at him immediately.
His fingers curled slowly around the handle of the cutter, the pressure building until his knuckles whitened.
"Then I’ll rip his heart out," he said at last, his voice low, rough, carrying a quiet kind of violence that didn’t need volume to be heard.
Timothy exhaled, frustration flashing across his face. "You don’t even understand what you’re dealing with," he muttered, shaking his head. "This isn’t a game where you test limits. This is someone who doesn’t leave things unfinished."
Fitzgerald’s lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it.
His eyes sharpened, something cold and calculating settling behind them as the anger began to take shape into something more dangerous.
Whitmore.
Maximilian Whitmore.
If power couldn’t be matched head-on... it could be redirected.
Everyone had a weakness.
Everyone.
And then it clicked.
Preston.
His gaze shifted, distant for a moment, as the thought fully formed, solid and undeniable.
Her.
A slow, deliberate smile spread across Fitzgerald’s face, far more unsettling than his anger had been.
"Let’s see how untouchable you are," he murmured under his breath.
Because tearing a man down wasn’t always about breaking him.
Sometimes...
It was about taking what he couldn’t afford to lose.
Timothy already knew that look on his brother’s face—the quiet, calculating stillness that always came before something reckless.
"If you’re planning to hurt his fiancée," he said firmly, stepping closer, "that would be the stupidest move you’ve ever made. He won’t just retaliate, Fitz. He’ll destroy you. And don’t forget—you’re supposedly working with Dorian. He wouldn’t allow that either. He wants her for himself."
Fitzgerald let out a soft scoff, leaning back in his chair as if the warning amused him. "What’s so special about her?" he asked, almost lazily.
Timothy had no answer. Or perhaps he did—but nothing that would make sense to someone like Fitzgerald.
A silence stretched between them.
But Fitzgerald was already elsewhere in his mind.
Dorian doesn’t know they’re engaged yet... does he?
That thought alone was enough.
A slow, dangerous smile curved along his lips as he reached for his phone, tapping the screen with deliberate ease. Why get his hands dirty when someone else could do the work far more efficiently?
"Maximilian..." he murmured under his breath, eyes glinting with something cold and merciless. "Let’s see how well you hold together when it’s your heart on the line."
He hit dial.
And somewhere far away, the first move of a far more dangerous game had already begun.