Chapter 67 Chapter 67

Chapter 67 Chapter 67
The Ross household didn’t just have a front door; it had a threshold that seemed to hum with the vibration of a dozen simultaneous conversations. The moment Katherine stepped inside, the contrast to her own upbringing hit her like a physical weight—or rather, the absence of one. At the Henrys’, silence was a weapon and etiquette was a shield. Here, the air was thick with the scent of Rosalinda’s slow-roasted garlic chicken, fresh rosemary, and the chaotic, beautiful noise of a family that actually liked one another.

In the living room, Reno was settled on the sofa with Catalella’s feet tucked under his thigh. He wasn't just sitting near her; he was anchored to her. Every few minutes, his hand would absentmindedly reach out to check her temperature or adjust the knitted throw over her lap. It was a quiet, masculine kind of devotion—the kind that didn't need a medical degree to understand that his little sister was the center of his world. Beside them, Lisette was animatedly retelling a story about a disastrous date, her laughter peeling through the room without a hint of self-consciousness.

Katherine watched them, mesmerized. There were no "restrictions" here. Adrian Senior and Rosalinda had somehow managed the impossible: they had raised three high-functioning, fiercely independent adults who weren't afraid to be vulnerable. There was no hovering, no stifling expectations of "legacy" or "decorum." The Ross siblings were simply free to be themselves, and that freedom manifested as a fierce, protective love for one another.

"Wine, Katherine? Or are we staying professional today?" Rosalinda emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron that had seen better days. She didn't wait for an answer, pressing a chilled glass into Katherine’s hand and pulling her into a quick, fragrant hug. "You look thin. Eat twice as much as AJ, please. He’s been eating MREs for a year; his palate is ruined."

Lunch was a glorious, loud disaster. Food was passed with a speed that required athletic reflexes, and the conversation jumped from hospital politics to Reno’s latest construction project without a breath. Adrian Senior sat at the head of the table, his earlier "shark" persona completely dissolved into that of a contented patriarch. He watched his children with a quiet pride that made Katherine’s throat tighten.

After the meal, as the men migrated toward the patio to discuss the "sorted" business with Harold, Lisette and Catalella cornered Katherine in the sunroom. Catalella looked frail, her skin still holding that translucent, sickly sheen, but her eyes were sharp—Ross eyes.

"Okay, spill it," Lisette said, leaning against the doorframe to block any potential escape. "We love you, Katherine. We really do. But we’ve spent eighteen months watching our brother turn into a ghost on a different continent, and we’ve spent those same eighteen months watching you walk around the hospital like a robot."

Catalella nodded from her armchair, her voice thin but steady. "AJ didn't just leave, Katherine. He fled. But he only fled because he thought the door was locked from the inside. Why didn't you fight harder? Why didn't you chase him to the airport? Why did you let the silence last this long?"

Katherine felt the familiar sting of defensive tears, but she realized she couldn't hide here. Not from these women. She set her tea down, her fingers trembling against the porcelain.

"You don't understand what it's like in my house," Katherine whispered, her voice cracking. "In this house, the walls have ears. In mine... the walls have teeth. My mother didn't just suggest I move on. She built a wall, stone by stone, until I couldn't see the horizon anymore. Every time I tried to call, every time I asked if there was word from the mission... she had a reason why I shouldn't. She told me AJ had requested a 'clean break.' She told me he had a life there—a woman there."

"And you believed her?" Lisette asked, her brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

"She’s my mother!" Katherine cried out, the frustration of two years finally boiling over. "She intercepted his letters, Lisette. She 'lost' the messages from the hospital when I was recovering from the accident. She made sure that every time I reached for him, I hit a mother-shaped wall that was ten feet thick and made of ice. I was grieving a baby, my career felt like it was stalling, and she was the only one in my ear telling me that AJ Ross had moved on because I wasn't enough to make him stay."

Standing just outside the sunroom, hidden by the heavy velvet curtains of the hallway, AJ froze. His hand was gripped tight around a bottle of wine he’d been bringing in, his knuckles turning a ghostly white. The "mother-shaped wall."

The pieces of the puzzle he’d been trying to force together finally clicked into a horrifying, clear picture. He remembered the satellite calls that never went through, the emails that were returned as "undeliverable," and the cold, dismissive tone Caroline had used the one time he’d managed to get her on a landline. 'Katherine is busy, AJ. She’s finally happy. Don't ruin it.'

He hadn't been ignored. He’d been erased.

"I didn't think I had the right to fight," Katherine continued, her voice dropping to a hollow whisper. "By the time I realized she might be lying, the silence had become its own monster. I thought he hated me for the miscarriage. I thought he hated me for being a Henry."

Catalella reached out, taking Katherine’s hand in her own frail one. "He never hated you, Kat. He was just as lost as you were."

AJ stepped into the room then, his presence immediate and heavy. The sisters looked up, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, and quietly excused themselves, Lisette giving AJ’s shoulder a supportive squeeze as she passed.

Katherine stood by the window, the afternoon sun catching the unshed tears in her eyes. She looked at the garden, at Reno and Adrian laughing on the patio, at the sheer, unadulterated warmth of the life the Rosses had built.

"I want a family like this one day," Katherine said, her voice small and filled with a yearning that broke AJ’s heart. "I want to live in a house where the doors don't have locks and the truth doesn't have to be a secret. I want to raise children who aren't afraid of their own shadows."

AJ crossed the room in three long strides. He didn't say a word as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against the solid heat of his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her—the scent of home.

"This is your family, Katherine," AJ murmured, his voice thick with a new, unbreakable resolve. "You’re already in. My mother already treats you like a daughter, my sisters are ready to go to war for you, and my father... well, you saw what he did to Harold's study. You don't have to wish for it anymore. You’re a Ross in everything but name, and we’re going to fix that part very soon."

Katherine turned in his arms, her hands sliding up to cup his face, tracing the line of his goatee and the strength of his jaw. "You heard?"

"I heard enough to know that I’m never letting your mother get within ten feet of our lives again," he promised, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her heart skip. "No more walls, Kitty Kat. From here on out, it’s just us. And this family? They’re your backup now. You’re never fighting alone again."

Katherine let out a shuddering breath, the last of the Henry ice finally melting away in the warmth of the Ross sunroom. "I love you, AJ."

"I know," he whispered, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss that tasted of second chances and a future that was finally, finally theirs. "And I'm never giving you a reason to doubt it ever again."