Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 106: The Reason

William sat beside his father’s bed all night, watching his chest rise and fall. The rhythm was wrong. It was too shallow and too restless. Their father never slept like this.

William drank cup after cup of coffee, forcing his eyes to stay open.

At dawn, sunlight slipped through the curtains. William jolted awake with a gasp. He didn’t remember falling asleep. The room was bright. Too bright.

His eyes flew to the bed.

"Dad!" he shouted.

James never slept past sunrise. Never. A cold dread crawled up William’s spine.

"Daddy..." His voice cracked as he gripped his father’s shoulder.

There was no response.

"Dad!" He rolled James onto his back and started CPR immediately. "Come on... please... please..."

He fumbled for his phone with one hand, still pumping his father’s chest, when his wife, Miranda rushed in.

"Honey—" She dropped the breakfast tray, porcelain shattering across the floor.

"Call 911—no. Get the chopper. Now!" William barked, not stopping compressions.

Miranda moved instantly, calling for help, alerting the hospital, notifying Bobby.

Within ten minutes, the ranch’s live-in doctor was at James’s side, administering emergency drugs as the helicopter thundered down outside. They transferred him quickly and flew him to the cardiologist already overseeing his care.

Now William paced the hospital corridor, hands shaking. Bobby sat on the floor, elbows on his knees, fingers dug into his hair.

Critical care.

They had taken him straight in.

When the nurse stepped out, Bobby shot to his feet. William was already halfway to her.

"Dorothy—how is he?" William demanded, breathless.

The old nurse sighed, her eyes heavy. "Billy... it’s a widowmaker." Her voice softened. "The doctor will speak to you soon. Surgery may not be enough at this point."

The words hollowed him out.

"Have you called Jon? Alex? Cathy?" she asked gently.

William pressed his lips together, fighting the tremor threatening to break through.

"Son, call the family," Dorothy whispered. She pulled him into a tight hug before walking away, wiping her eyes.

Everyone knew James Preston. Everyone loved him.

But some things were beyond love.

William staggered back. Bobby dragged his sleeve across his face, hiding the tears he could no longer hold.

-----

"Then why did you?"

Catherine’s voice trembled, but she did not look away.

Maximilian lifted his head.

Tears streaked her face, her eyes swollen and clouded, and the sight tore through him. He had never wanted to be the reason she looked like this. He had tried to avoid this moment, to circle around the truth, to bury it beneath avoidance and half-answers.

But she had just confessed that it hurt more because she had trusted him more.

And now it was his turn.

If he wanted redemption, he had to lay everything bare and trust her to decide what he deserved.

His restraint had already cracked tonight. He had shouted. Lost control. He was terrified of what he might become if he kept holding everything in. The worst thing he could do now was push her away again.

"That night..." he began, his hands curling into fists as if he could physically contain the storm inside him. "After I met you... I was kidnapped."

Catherine’s brows drew together. "Kidnapped? By who?"

He held her gaze. His lips trembled.

"My mother."

The words fell between them like shattered glass.

Catherine’s breath hitched.

His mother?

The same woman who had pushed for their engagement when they were infants? The same woman who had smiled through endless formal visits and declared their union destined?

Her heart pounded as old memories resurfaced.

When they were children, Maximilian and his mother had attended nearly every grand ball in Elyndra. She remembered the laughter, the winter lanterns, the way his mother’s presence filled every hall with elegance and authority.

But after the vow ribbon incident...

Everything changed.

His mother had not been the same.

The whispers had spread through the court. The scandal had been suffocating. And the following year, they had not visited Elyndra at all.

Only when Catherine turned sixteen did they return for the winter ball, and even then, his mother had seemed pale, strained, blaming her health for her absence from society.

At the time, Catherine had believed it.

Now doubt crept in.

Was it truly illness?

Or had something else fractured that family long before she understood what was happening?

"She had held me..." Maximilian bowed his head, his voice breaking. "She forced my seal onto it. She had a dagger to her own throat, Catherine. I... I thought she would kill herself if I refused. And you... I thought..."

His chin dipped lower, as if the shame weighed too much to carry upright.

Catherine’s fingers curled into her robe, trembling.

"You read it," she whispered, and then her voice sharpened despite the tears in it. "You read what was written in that parchment... and you still thought you could convince me later?"

Those words.

Those filthy, venomous words inked on that parchment had followed her for years. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

They had echoed through corridors whenever she walked past. Laughter muffled behind fans. Courtiers whispering. Men testing their luck, assuming she was "that kind" of woman because her fiancé himself had publicly cast doubt on her virtue.

Even Dorian... Dorian had looked at her like she was cheap on their first meeting, like she was easy, like she could be bought...

All because of that letter.

Her throat tightened.

"How could you do that to me?" she asked, not loudly, but the quiet was worse. "You said you loved me... And yet... You chose her life... and buried mine."

Did he truly believe it would fade away?

Did he think the court would forget?

Was he that naïve about how society worked? About how a single stain on a woman’s name could define her forever?

Ah.

His mother.

He had chosen his mother’s life over her reputation.

The realization sliced cleanly through her heart. It hurt more than the betrayal itself. Because now she understood the scale.

In that moment, he had weighed them both... and she had lost.

Tears blurred her vision again, but she forced herself to ask the question clawing inside her.

"Why did she do it?" Catherine’s voice wavered. "I never disrespected her. I treated her like my own mother."

She had admired that woman. Respected her. Trusted her.

His mother was not some ignorant girl. She was a seasoned noblewoman. A queen. She knew exactly what accusing a crown princess of secret affairs would do.

What had she done to deserve that hatred?

"What did I ever do to her?" she whispered, the question barely audible — as if she was afraid of the answer.

Maximilian couldn’t take it.

He rose abruptly and crossed the distance between them in two strides. The anguish in her voice was worse than her anger. Worse than her accusations. It sounded small. Lost.

"No, Katerina... no." His voice cracked. "It was never your fault. Not even a little."

He reached for her instinctively.

But Catherine stepped back before his fingers could brush her sleeve.

The movement was subtle.

It still felt like a blade to his chest.

"Then why?" she asked.