Maximilian understood something deeper.
Catherine wasn't just the youngest. She wasn't simply the sister who arrived late into an already grown family.
She was the last gift their mother had left them.
Mary had lived three years after Catherine was born. Three years of frailty, hospital visits, and whispered conversations behind doors.
And in every single one of those years, she had made one thing clear.
This girl is precious. This girl is my heart walking outside my body. Take care of her. Love her. Protect her.
She had repeated it so often that it had become law. She imprinted it in their hearts, so deeply, they all came together with one heart… as a family.
So when Mary was gone… Catherine wasn't just a sibling. She was their mother's legacy, memory, and promise.
Of course, they guarded her like treasure.
Dorothy studied him quietly. "I can see you're important to her," she said.
Maximilian didn't look away. "I intend to be."
