Chapter 17: Bankruptcy

Cattleya’s POV

"What do you mean, Ms. Catt?" Vianne asked.

"Nothing. Just do your job and find me the most suitable gown for tomorrow night. I want it delivered tomorrow at 10 AM, then schedule an appointment for me at the salon. Okay?"

Vianne replied politely, "Alright. Don't worry, I'll handle everything."

I massaged my temples, thinking my parents might want me to marry Patrick. Then I stared at my engagement ring, which could easily cover the cost of the entire wedding. How ironic.

Next Day,

I woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing; the condo staff had delivered the box for me. When I checked the time, it was already 10 a.m. I guess Vianne did her work excellently.

I put the big rectangular box on my bed. Then I opened the box and smiled because it contained an excellent gown for tonight's event.

My stomach growled because I was hungry, and as soon as I opened the fridge, I bit my lower lip and frowned, "Darn, no food. I forgot to buy the groceries last week."

After a quick shower and changing clothes, I decided to have my breakfast at the local coffee shop.

As I stepped inside, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the air.

I ordered a flaky croissant and a steaming Americano, finding a quiet corner to enjoy my meal.

A familiar voice startled me as I drank my coffee and scrolled through the news.

It was Analia, my distant bitch cousin. She greeted me with a forced smile and said, "Good morning."

I wiped my lips and looked up, my expression turning slightly cold. "What do you want, Analia?"

She sat across from me, her eyes fixed on me. "So, I guess you're here. It's a shame you couldn't even muster a proper greeting."

I scoffed and stood up to pay. "Good morning," I muttered sarcastically.

As I approached the counter, Analia followed, her gaze filled with curiosity and disdain.

"I see you've been quite busy with your little investigation," she said, her voice dripping with nastiness. "Why don't you just give up? Do you want to end up like your sister?"

I glared at her, my anger boiling.

She rolled her eyes to imply that she had a valid point.

"Don't ruin my morning, Analia," I snapped, stepping closer. "I'm having a good day. Just leave me alone."

She sneered, her voice laced with disgust. "I'm not trying to ruin your day. Why don't you just go back to London? I'm sure you'd be much happier there."

"Who are you to decide for me? Did I ask for your opinion? You're so nosy, it's no wonder your husband couldn't stand you," I retorted, my voice filled with meanness.

"Don't talk to me like that! You have no idea!" Analia snarled.

I smiled at her, a knowing glint in my eye. "Oh, yes, of course. I don't have any idea, just like you."

She watched me walk away, her face contorted with anger.

I arrived at my condo building and saw one of our family drivers, Mr. Lopez, waiting patiently.

He bowed respectfully as I approached.

"Good day, Miss Catt," he said. "Your mother asked me to pick you up. She has something important to discuss."

I sighed inwardly. Although I would have much rather avoided a family gathering, declining felt disrespectful.

With a nod, I climbed into the car.

As we pulled up to the villa, the house was bustling with activity. It seemed like preparations were underway for a party that evening, something I was determined to avoid.

I had already made plans to attend another event.

My mother greeted me with a warm smile as I entered the villa.

I noticed two unfamiliar faces: Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, Patrick's parents.

I knew this meeting was going to be about business, family alliances, and topics I wasn't particularly interested in discussing. The thought of it already bored me.

"Mom? You wanted to talk to me?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

My mother smiled. "Oh, yes, I did. Let's go to the greenhouse. It's a more pleasant place to talk, with fresh air and beautiful flowers."

Samantha and Philip Anderson exchanged knowing glances before following us.

As we entered the greenhouse, I gasped at the vibrant display of colorful blooms.

I loved art and appreciated the beauty of the flowers, finding them far more interesting than the person standing in the center of the room--Patrick.

"What's the meaning of this?" I demanded softly.

My mother tried to calm me down. "Honey, please. Patrick has something important to tell you." She gently pushed me towards him.

I approached Patrick, my heart pounding.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Patrick took a deep breath. "Our families have been friends for years, and I've always admired you, Catt. Our companies have been partners for nearly two decades now. Given the close ties between our families, I want to ask you to marry me. I promise to be the best husband you could ever ask for. I'll do my best to-"

"No." I cut him off.

Patrick's smile faltered. "N-no?"

I raised my hand, displaying the engagement ring on my finger. "I'm getting married to someone else."

A collective gasp filled the room. My mother's face was a picture of shock.

She stared at the ring, her voice filled with disbelief. "That's an eight-carat blue diamond ring? Who is this man, Catt?"

Patrick was speechless.

Samantha, Patrick's mother, glared at me. "How could you do this to us, Catt?" she demanded.

I glanced at Samantha with confusion. "What? I don't owe your family anything. I can make my own decisions."

"No!" she insisted. "Our companies are partners! You and Patrick should get married to maintain this relationship."

"Mrs. Anderson, I don't think you understand," I replied calmly. "I've lived in London all my life. I barely know you and your son. It's not my responsibility to marry your son. I am sorry."

Philip, Patrick's father, scoffed. "So, you've found someone from the upper echelons of society to marry you? Are you sure this person actually wants to marry you? Who knows if that engagement ring is even real?" He then glanced at his son. "Let's go, son. Let's cut ties with this family."

My mother shouted after them. "You can't do that! It's a breach of contract!"

"Really? This was your idea, Mrs. Sullivan," Samantha retorted. "Now watch your company go bankrupt without our help."

With that, they left, leaving my mother speechless.

My lips trembled as I asked, "Bankruptcy?"