Chapter 18 Chapter 18: How Can She?
Catherine’s P.O.V
I follow Xavier down the hallway without really seeing where I’m going, my legs moving on their own while my head feels too full, too loud.
I hear Lydia behind us, her footsteps sharp and purposeful as she heads toward the guest bedroom, already talking to herself about drawers and space and what Caroline will need, like this is all settled and decided. When the bedroom door closes behind us, I finally exhale, pressing my palm against my chest as if that might steady my breathing.
“This is completely unacceptable,” I say immediately, the words tumbling out of me before I can soften them, my voice low but shaking.
“Xavier, you need to speak to your mother. You can’t just let her move her in like this. Not like this. Not without even asking me.”
He turns to me, rubbing his face, his shoulders sagging in a way that makes my anger falter for just a second. “I tried,” he says, frustration sharp in his tone. “I swear to you, Cathy, I tried. I spoke to her just now, before you came upstairs. She wouldn’t even listen. She ignored me like I wasn’t there, and when I pushed, she snapped at me. Told me she was doing what’s best for the family and that I wouldn’t understand.”
“That’s it?” I ask, my chest tightening. “She just snapped at you and that’s the end of it?” I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands twisting together.
“She can’t do this. She can’t bring Caroline into this house like she’s… like she’s permanent. Like I don’t even exist in this equation.”
Xavier sits beside me, his knee brushing mine. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know how wrong this feels. But you know how she is. The moment you challenge her, it turns into a war. And I didn’t want her coming at you.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “She’s already at me,” I say. “She doesn’t need an excuse. She resents me, Xavier. I’ve always known it, but this just proves it. And I have no right to say anything to her, do I? Because the moment I open my mouth, I’m the ungrateful wife, the dramatic one making a scene.”
He reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “You shouldn’t have to live like that.”
“And yet I do,” I reply, my voice dropping. “Now I have to see her every single day. Caroline. I have to sit at the same table, walk past her in the hallway, pretend I’m fine while she carries your child for us.” I swallow hard, my throat burning. “I hate that I even feel this way, but it makes me so uncomfortable. It’s like… like I’m being replaced in my own life.”
Xavier is quiet for a moment, then he says, “You’re not being replaced.”
“I know,” I say quickly, then hesitate. “Or at least, I know that’s not what this is supposed to be. But something about this feels off. I can’t explain it. It’s not just jealousy or insecurity. It’s this constant knot in my stomach, like something isn’t right and I’m the only one sensing it.”
He looks at me then, hid brows drawn. “I think you’re just uncomfortable with the situation, that’s all,” he says, letting out a sigh. “But just in case, we’ll be careful. We won’t let anything get out of hand.”
I nod, even though the unease doesn’t fade. “I just wish I could say something,” I admit softly. “I wish I could tell her how this feels without it turning into a disaster.”
“I know,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “For now, let’s just get through tonight.”
I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat while Lydia’s voice carries faintly from down the hall, still directing, still rearranging our lives without asking, and I stay quiet, because I don’t know how to speak up without everything falling apart.
I watched as Xavier sighed, the sound heavy, like it had been living in his chest for days, maybe weeks, and he rubbed his face before looking at me again.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and then he says it again, softer, like the word itself was failing him.
“I’m so sorry, Cathy. I know this isn’t fair. None of it is. But…we really don’t have a choice.” I shook my head slowly, still trying to process everything, and asked him what he meant by not having a choice, because there was always a choice, wasn’t there?
He swallowed and avoided my eyes.
“I really don’t,” he said quietly. “If I push back too hard, if I keep fighting her on this, she’ll write me out of the will. She’s already hinted at it. I can’t risk it.”
I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. “Wait,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Are you saying your mother has threatened you with this before?”
He stayed silent, his jaw tightening, his hands clenching and unclenching like he was bracing himself. That silence answered me louder than words ever could.
“Xavier,” I whispered, disbelief flooding my chest, “she actually did that to you?”
He finally looked at me then, his eyes tired, almost ashamed. “She didn’t say it outright,” he replied. “Not in so many words. But she didn’t have to. She made it clear what would happen if I didn’t cooperate. She always does.”