Chapter 33 — Katerina

Gently, I touched my hand to my lips, then to my forehead, trying to ascertain that what had just occurred had not simply been a delusional figment of my imagination. Had Alexander just kissed me? Twice? With a tenderness that belied his usual ice and towering frame?

Although…he seemed to be softening somewhat if a stone statue could soften. I stumbled over these thoughts as I left Alexander's room in a daze, unable to think with the scent of him still clinging to me and hanging in the air. Outside, I nearly ran over poor Abigail, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the corridor.

"Hey, have you seen my brother? I need to talk to him..." Abigail gripped my wrists and kept me from falling over. I grinned at her despite myself—clearly, the kiss's effect on me had yet to leave. I didn't mind it very much. "Actually, what were you doing in his room?"

"I went in by mistake," I said defensively, too quickly, even if it was the truth. "And then we talked. Also, I think his father beckoned him somewhere. I don't know. He got a call."

"Long answer for a short question." She released me, and instead took a few steps as though examining my appearance. I felt instantly dishevelled and oddly transparent; the same blue eyes she shared with her brother and cousin seemed to look right past me at the reality of things. "Hmm."

I changed the subject. "Why exactly were you looking for him, Abby?"

Speedily, I steered her through the hall, walking at a fast clip and practically dragging her along behind me. She protested but managed to keep up, even in heels that made her on par with my height. I would have been impressed if I hadn't been trying to evade her questions and ask some of my own.

"Well..." Now, I saw a side of her I had never before witnessed. Shy. Meek, even. Demure, certainly. "I wanted to ask him why he's changed. But then I realized, it's because of you."

I was shaking my head before she finished her last sentence. "It's not me. I don't have the power to change anybody; I do only what God grants me the power and grace to do. I wish more people would understand that."

"There's no need to be modest, Katerina, we're family!" She looked almost hurt, needling at me to tell what she viewed as the truth. But what I had said was the truth.

"All I can be is a catalyst for change. I'm not responsible for changing your brother, Abigail. And I don't want to be—I don't want to mould him into something different, because I am human and fallible and capable of making mistakes. If we all tried to change someone into what we viewed as the better version of themselves, the world would be even worse off because every human has a different perception of what is good, a perception that differs from God's. Please, please understand that."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "I'll try."

That was, I supposed, all that I could ask for. Switching to a less sensitive topic, I nudged her side with my elbow. "So…since we are on the subject of romance, how are things with your prince?"

Abigail wore a smile so bright that it nearly hurt to look at her. "He's the best," she gushed.

And she went on about him for a good minute or so, while I half-listened and half-reflected. In the three months that I had been at the penthouse, such a great deal of my life's trajectory had been irreversibly altered. I had a fiancé now, for one, and an entirely different career path. I had…Now I had a close group of friends, knit together by circumstance but also by genuine affection and care for one another, who were willing to listen to me talk about my faith. Really…hadn't I gained more than I had lost, even if what I had lost was a father?

Alexander and I were slowly, slowly, starting on the right path. I knew people could not be shaped into different individuals overnight, that change took time and dedication and faith in oneself—but we were getting there. The kiss, the fact that he hadn't cruelly rejected me right after it, proved that.

"Sorry, am I rambling too much?" Abigail looked over at me, touched my hand. "Oh, you're smiling! It's good to see you smile. We have been worried about you."

"We?" I asked for clarification with a furrowed brow.

"Georgia, Sylvia, and I. We started a group chat, y'know, for bridesmaid stuff. We could add you if you'd like—" She was interrupted when I threw my arms around her.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for making this so much easier than it could have been."

And in my heart, I thanked God, for sending me a life that, while far different from the one I had envisioned for myself, was exactly what He knew I needed.

+

"Alexander, are you in there?" I called, pushing open the study door with a creak. I had volunteered to summon him to supper, but now it seemed that I was the wrong person for the task. My fiancé was nowhere to be seen. "Alex?"

The study was a mess: papers were strewn on every surface, even the Oriental-carpeted floor, pens were scattered on top of them, and a navy suit jacket that I recognized as belonging to Alexander was draped over the lampshade. I frowned. He gave an aura of extreme meticulousness, and what little I had seen of his room showed that I was right. Why on earth would he leave his father's den in such a state of disarray?

I absentmindedly gathered the pens and stuffed them into a tumbler, then began picking up and stacking the papers. My gaze caught on a familiar-looking heading, and I realized with a start that it was my father's will, still in the same leather folio that it had been on that fateful day that seemed so long ago. The world seemed to spin to a halt as I took in the blue ink that had been scrawled over it: Contest the will, to prevent A. and K. from marrying. I took in my surroundings again as a numbing sensation overtook my body, my fingers dropping the papers. No wonder the office was such a mess.

A dull roaring was audible, drowning out every other sound. I had thought this was the life God had wanted for me: marriage to Alexander. Running Devereaux Corporations. And then somewhere down the line…children. Heirs to succeed us and to run both of our companies when they merged. A long, happy, fulfilled life that I had thought was stretching out ahead of me, had disappeared, dropped out of sight like a mirage when you drove too close. I had thought my future was a dot on the horizon, but the horizon turned out to be a sharp drop off a cliff.

Calm down, I told myself. Alexander already tried to contest the will and he failed. Why would Aaron Steele try to do it again? He's the one who wanted the two of you to marry…He's the one who has been the strongest proponent of this marriage since the beginning…None of this made any sense. Had the elder Mr. Steele been hiding his desire for us to separate with a facade of the pushy, overbearing father-in-law?

Only, he wouldn't even be my father-in-law, and probably never would be, I thought with a choked sob. Had Alexander known about this? Surely, he did. Surely, he had been planning this from the beginning—the ultimate, final betrayal. To make me think once again that he cared when he was never going to marry me. Those wedding invitations were likely fake. Perhaps, everyone had known about this but me. Perhaps this had all been some elaborate, cosmic joke.

No, the tiny rational part of my brain ordered the larger, more emotional fractions. You don't even know that this is true. Stop. Stop! Walk out of the office, close the door, take a deep breath, and then when you have calmed down, you can ask for the truth.

I sighed when I wanted to scream. I smiled at Abigail when I saw her outside, even though I longed to break down and cry. Absentmindedly, I noted that Alexander and Aaron were absent from dinner, and with all the willpower in my body, I sat. I ate. I appeared utterly calm and still, utterly collected and without flaw, without ache, without fissure.

But when I made it to my room, I dialled Alexander's number with shaking fingers.

He picked up, his tone warm and kind. False! "Good evening, Katerina."

"Is it true?" I asked, my voice trembling as much as my body.

"Is what true?" The heat in his voice shifted to surprise.

I wanted to shout and rage at him, even over the phone. "Is it true that we're not getting married anymore?"

A pause—no, a lifetime of silence—passed. All the while, my heart thundered on, desperate to hear his answer. Finally, he responded.

"Yes. It's true."