Chapter 8 Chapter 8: My Wife My Choice
Catherine’s P.O.V
I whipped around at the same time Lydia did, my breath catching when I saw Xavier marching toward us with shoulders tense, jaw locked, and eyes burning with a fury so sharp it sliced straight through the air between us. Before I could even process it, he stepped in front of me, one arm stretching back instinctively like a shield, blocking his mother from taking even one more step closer.
“Enough, Mother,” he snapped, his voice low but vibrating with barely contained rage. “I have tolerated a lot from you over the years, but this…” he gestured sharply toward her “...this stops now.”
Lydia’s brows flew up, the pearls around her neck trembling with the force of how offended she looked.
“Xavier, do not raise your voice at me. I’m only saying what everyone else is afraid to…”
“No,” he cut in, firmer this time, his body still angled protectively in front of mine. “You’re saying what you want to say, because you think you’re entitled to dictate everyone’s life. I finally gave in to your relentless demands for an heir…your words, not mine and you know very well that the decision almost tore this marriage apart. But don’t you dare,” he growled, leaning forward slightly, “think that gives you the right to berate my wife.”
My chest tightened so suddenly I almost gasped. My wife. The way he said it…steady, unapologetic, almost… possessive…hit something inside me I wasn’t prepared for.
Lydia’s nostrils flared. “Xavier, you can’t expect me to pretend everything is fine when she…”
“When she what, Mother?” He squared his shoulders, staring her down without blinking. “When she’s not the one carrying the child? When she struggled for years to give us a family? When she cried herself to sleep more nights than you will ever know?” His voice cracked before he tightened it again, hardening every syllable.
“If there’s anyone who deserves gentleness in this family, it’s Catherine.”
I felt heat bloom behind my eyes so fast it burned. “Xavier…” I whispered, barely audible, because I couldn’t believe he remembered. I couldn’t believe he’d say it out loud.
He glanced back at me for just a second…just one…but in that second, I saw something I hadn’t seen in months. Softness. Regret and something else I didn’t dare name.
Then he turned back to his mother. “She is still Mrs. Dalton,” he said, each word deliberate and sharp. “And she will be treated with the respect that comes with that title. I don’t care if the baby is coming through a surrogate. I don’t care how desperate you were for an heir. Catherine is my wife and until I say otherwise…which I won’t, her position in this family is not up for debate.”
Lydia blinked rapidly, as if the words stunned her. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment,” she protested weakly.
“I only want what’s best for the Dalton name…”
“What I want,” Xavier cut in again, louder, “is for you to stop attacking the woman I chose to marry.”
My breath hitched. He wasn’t even looking at me now, yet every word felt like it was being spoken directly into my chest.
“She deserves better than this,” he continued. “Better than whispers behind her back. Better than constant criticism. Better than being blamed for things she had no control over. If you can’t offer her basic respect, then maybe you should rethink how involved you want to be in our lives.”
‘Our lives.’ Not just his, not just the baby’s. Ours.
Lydia visibly paled, her lips trembling with disbelief. “You would choose her over…”
“I’m choosing what’s right,” Xavier said firmly. “And right now, that’s Catherine.”
My heart thudded painfully, a tangled mess of confusion and warmth and something dangerously close to hope. I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady as I said,
“Xavier… you didn’t have to…”
“Yes,” he said, turning to me again, his gaze dropping briefly to my trembling hands before moving to my eyes. “I did.”
Something in his tone made my breath falter. And something in his eyes…raw, unguarded, told me that despite everything, despite the baby, despite the mess we’d made of our marriage…Maybe he still cared, maybe he always had.
“God…you just made my son raise his voice against his mother,” Lydia snapped in frustration. “Are you happy now, you barren bitch?”
The moment the words left Lydia’s mouth, I watched her face drain of color, like she suddenly realized she had stepped too far this time. She blinked rapidly, clutching her purse as if it could shield her from Xavier’s stare. “Xavier… I didn’t mean…” she started, but he cut her off so sharply that even I flinched.
“Mom,” he said, voice low but razor-sharp, “you owe Catherine an apology. Now.”
Lydia’s gaze snapped to me, but she didn’t look remorseful…just cornered, irritated, like Xavier had betrayed some silent pact between them. “I already told you, I didn’t mean it that way,” she muttered.
“That wasn’t an apology,” Xavier insisted, stepping slightly in front of me as if she might attack again.
“You insulted my wife. You don’t get to pretend it didn’t happen.”
I swallowed, waiting, hoping, even though my chest felt tight. Lydia hesitated for a long second and then sighed dramatically. “Fine,” she whispered, eyes flicking toward me for less than half a second before looking back at him. “I’m sorry, Xavier.”
“Not to me,” he snapped. “To Cathy.”
But instead of apologizing, Lydia’s expression hardened. Suddenly she wasn’t pale anymore; she was furious.
“Xavier,” she said, pointing a shaking finger at him, “one day you’ll understand the mistake you’ve made. One day, when everything comes crashing down, you will remember that I warned you.” She turned her glare on me for a fraction of a second…cold, disapproving, dismissive…then spun on her heel.
“I won’t stand here and pretend,” she turned around hastily, and then she was gone, heels clicking sharply down the hallway until the sound faded.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The silence left behind was so heavy it felt like a weight pressing against my ribs. Xavier turned toward me slowly, his entire face softening the second his eyes met mine.