Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 115: An Uncontrollable Visitor

"Why weren’t you with me after?"

He was at her mother’s funeral. She saw him, at a distance, watching.

Why wasn’t he beside her when she curled into herself and sobbed? Why didn’t he hold her then? Why didn’t he comfort her then?

He was here now.

But would he still be here tomorrow?

If she called his name... Would fate rip them apart again? Would he disappear when she needs him the most?

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she realized. She wiped them quickly. Then she carefully slid off the recliner and knelt beside him, and touched his shoulder gently.

He startled awake instantly... alert, eyes sharp, as if he had missed something important.

When he focused on her face, his eyes widened.

She pressed a finger to her lips. Don’t speak.

He exhaled deeply, tension draining.

"Sit here for some time," she whispered, patting the recliner.

He shook his head immediately. "I’m fine."

"You’re not," she insisted softly.

After a moment’s resistance, he gave in. He took the recliner. She stood in front of him.

Her hand lifted again, hovering near his face. He closed his eyes instinctively, waiting.

She did nothing. She didn’t touch him. Her hand just hovered over his eyes.

And somehow... His breathing evened out. Within minutes, he was asleep again. He must have been that tired.

Her lips curved and she covered him with the blanket. Let him sleep some time a little bit more comfortably. She turned toward her father, checking the monitors again.

Something told her he would wake soon. Then she remembered... Her phone. She had turned it off.

Her brothers might have tried calling.

She retrieved it and powered it on. The screen lit up.

Immediately... Notifications flooded in. The chiming was relentless. She silenced it quickly. Once it stopped vibrating, she stared at the screen.

At the top:

75 Missed Calls, Dorian Blackwood.

Her stomach dropped.

Seventy-five. In sixteen hours.

Her jaw tightened.

Why would he call this many times?

She inhaled slowly. Enough. She would end this. She tapped his name. But she realized it was four in the morning. She decided to call in the morning, when the screen lit up again.

Incoming Call.

Dorian Blackwood.

Her finger hovered over the screen. Why was he calling at this hour? Did he not consider she might be asleep? Or did he not care?

Her pulse quickened.

But before she could decide, she heard a sound, and a small shift in the bed.

She looked up. Her father’s fingers twitched. His head moved slightly.

The phone slipped from her hand, dangling from the pearl lanyard as the call continued unanswered.

"Daddy?"

She rushed to his bedside.

"Daddy... can you hear me?"

James’s eyelids fluttered again. Then slowly...they opened. They were clouded at first, and unfocused.

Catherine’s fingers tightened instantly around his hand.

"Daddy?" Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. "Can you hear me?"

His gaze shifted sluggishly, searching. When it found her, something softened.

"...Cathy..."

It was barely a breath. But it was him.

Her composure shattered.

"I’m here, Daddy," she whispered, leaning closer. "I’m right here."

Behind her, the recliner creaked. Maximilian was already on his feet. He didn’t ask questions. He moved quickly, stepping out to alert the nurses.

Within moments, staff filled the room. Monitors were checked. Flashlights examined pupils. A doctor asked gentle questions.

James responded faintly, but correctly. Relief moved through the room like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. Catherine stepped aside only when asked, but she never let go of his hand.

When the immediate checks were done, she stepped into the hallway and called her brothers.

"Dad’s awake," she said.

Her voice broke on the second word.

By the time dawn began to tint the sky pale gold, the Preston family had returned.

Hospital rules were clear: one by one.

So they obeyed. William went first, composed, but with eyes suspiciously bright when he stepped back out. Alexander next, emerging quieter than before. Bobby lingered inside longer than permitted, earning a gentle scolding from a nurse. Jon stood at the bedside with both hands in his pockets, as if afraid to touch something too fragile.

The spouses followed. Then the older grandchildren. Each visit was short, each one heavy with unspoken gratitude.

Maximilian stayed back.

He didn’t push forward. Didn’t claim space. He stood near the window, hands in his pockets, watching the family rotate in and out like planets orbiting a sun that had nearly gone dark.

When Catherine finally stepped out after one of the rounds, exhaustion lining her face but relief glowing beneath it, she found him already looking at her.

"He’s fine," she said, almost in disbelief.

Maximilian nodded gently. "I know."

The morning doctor made final rounds and delivered the verdict everyone had been holding their breath for.

"His vitals are stabilizing well. The surgery went as expected. He needs strict rest and monitoring, but his recovery is promising."

The collective exhale was almost audible.

"He’ll need lifestyle changes," the doctor continued. "But if he follows instructions, he should regain strength steadily."

Should. The most beautiful word in the English language.

By full sunrise, the panic of the night had softened into something manageable.

James was resting again, naturally, this time.

The family gathered quietly in the corridor, relief making them lighter, almost giddy in small bursts.

Catherine leaned back against the wall for the first time since the doors had opened hours ago. Her body was exhausted, her mind finally beginning to unclench.

She turned her head slightly. Maximilian was still there. Through the longest night of her life, he had simply stayed.

She let herself truly look at him, as the man who chose to remain when it mattered. At least, for today.

And just as that fragile warmth settled inside her... She noticed William.

He was speaking to hospital security near the corridor entrance. His posture was rigid.

Something was wrong.

Catherine straightened immediately and stepped forward. Alexander moved in front of her smoothly. "Where are you going?"

Her eyes flicked between him and William.

That was when she knew.

It involved her.

"What is it?" she demanded, slipping past Alexander before he could stop her.

William turned at the sound of her voice. His expression softened instantly. "It’s nothing, Bitty Bean," he said. "We’ll deal with it."

That nickname...

Catherine inhaled slowly and shifted her gaze to the security officer. "Is someone causing trouble?" she asked calmly.

The officer hesitated, glancing at William for permission.

William’s jaw tightened.

The officer cleared his throat. "Miss Catherine, a man named Dorian Blackwood is at the main entrance. He says he won’t leave unless he sees you."

The air changed.

Catherine blinked once.

Dorian... here?

William spoke before she could. "I instructed security not to allow unauthorized individuals into this wing. He’s been calling you repeatedly. When you didn’t answer, he came in person."

Her stomach twisted.

"He’s causing a disturbance now," the officer added carefully.

William’s expression darkened.

For one reckless second in the past, William had considered Dorian a suitable match.

But this? This was not just control. This was entitlement.

Catherine exhaled slowly.

In their previous life, Dorian had never lost composure publicly. He wore restraint like a second skin. He knew protocol. He respected power structures.

Her father was chairman of a billion-dollar conglomerate. Security protocols were not optional.

So what made him lose his temper now? Did he have something important to say?

"I’ll go see him," Catherine said evenly.

William stepped in front of her immediately.

"No."

She lifted her chin. "He’s here because of me."

"That doesn’t mean you entertain him," William shot back.

Alexander joined them silently, arms crossed.

"We’ll remove him," Alexander said. "You don’t need to step into this."

Catherine’s jaw clenched.

"This won’t end if I hide," she replied quietly.

William’s voice softened but remained firm. "You don’t owe him anything."

She knew that.

But seventy-five missed calls. A public scene. Showing up at a hospital when her father was in ICU...

That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t the Dorian she knew. Something had snapped.

And that unsettled her more than anger ever could.