Chapter 89
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Maxim Thorne’s Estate
Early Afternoon
Kristina’s heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor as she approached Maxim’s front doors. She had told Lucian and Eli she would come alone today—this was a visit for herself, not a family matter.
The estate was quiet, bathed in late-morning light. The kind of quiet that invited reflection, and Kristina needed that. She wanted to see Maxim—not out of obligation, but to acknowledge him, to share a moment beyond the courthouse or legal formalities.
The door opened almost immediately, and Maxim appeared, calm as ever, though his expression softened at the sight of her.
“Kristina,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth beneath his measured tone. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I thought I’d drop by,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just… wanted to see you, and thank you.”
Maxim gestured toward the sitting room. “Then come in. Sit. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
As she stepped inside, Kristina felt the weight of the past days—the courthouse, the signatures, the legal preparations—settle in her chest. It had been a whirlwind, but this visit was hers alone, a quiet acknowledgment of someone who had quietly anchored her when she needed it most.
Maxim poured tea as she settled, the aroma comforting in the late-morning light. He placed a cup before her, meeting her gaze with a quiet steadiness.
“You’ve been through a lot these past days,” he said softly, almost as if reading her thoughts. “I hope you know how proud I am of how you handled everything.”
Kristina felt a small lump in her throat. “I couldn’t have done it without the people I trust. You’ve been one of them… for a long time.”
Maxim gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod. “And I always will be. You and Lucian… and Eli. You’re building something rare, something that matters.”
Kristina allowed herself a deep breath, the warmth of the room and the sincerity of the words grounding her. She had come to thank him, but she realized she was leaving with more than gratitude—she was leaving with clarity, connection, and the quiet reassurance that some bonds weren’t just legal, but enduring.
The quiet of Maxim’s study seemed to invite honesty, the kind that didn’t need ceremony or explanation. Kristina sat back in the leather chair, her tea untouched, her thoughts lingered on the whirlwind of the past days—the choices they’d made, the foundations they had set.
Maxim leaned against the edge of his desk, hands folded loosely in front of him. “You look… lighter,” he said gently, as though testing a truth he already knew. “Like a weight has finally lifted.”
Kristina smiled faintly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes. “I guess… it has. Everything with Lucian, everything with Eli—it’s real now. Legal, emotional… and I feel like for the first time in a long while, I can breathe without fear.”
Maxim studied her for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ve watched you carry more than most ever should,” he said quietly. “And yet, you’ve always done it with… poise. Grace. Even when it hurt.”
Kristina’s chest tightened, and she let out a soft sigh. “Sometimes I forget people notice—the small battles, not just the victories.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I notice. I’ve always noticed. And I hope you know, I admire the way you’ve built this… family. Not just legally, but emotionally. You’ve chosen carefully, and with purpose.”
A warmth settled in Kristina’s chest, a feeling she rarely let herself fully experience—validation, not just for her actions, but for her heart. “It means… a lot to hear you say that. I’ve never really… been told I was doing right by myself, by the people I care about.”
Maxim nodded, a weight in his eyes that mirrored the weight in her own. “You are,” he said simply. “And never doubt it. You’ve grown stronger than you think, Kristina. Strong enough to handle anything the world throws at you—and still keep your heart open.”
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock and the distant rustle of the estate’s gardens outside. Kristina let herself absorb the words, feeling grounded, recognized, and quietly understood.
Finally, she allowed herself a small, genuine smile. “Thank you, Papa. Not just for today… but for all the times you’ve been quietly there, even when I didn’t know I needed it.”
He returned the smile, a rare softness in his normally composed demeanor. “Always. That doesn’t change, no matter where life takes us.”
Kristina stood then, the weight of gratitude and clarity settling in her chest. “I should let you get back to your day. But… I’ll always remember this moment.”
Maxim inclined his head, letting the silence speak volumes. “As will I.”
Kristina stepped toward the door, turning once to offer a final glance. In that quiet, sunlit study, words weren’t always necessary. Some bonds—like this one—needed no ceremony, no signatures, no witnesses. Only acknowledgment. And in that, they were complete.
En Route to Lucian Sinclair’s Estate
Late Afternoon
The California sun was soft on the horizon, casting long shadows across the winding road. Kristina’s mind replayed the conversation with Maxim Thorne—the quiet pride in his eyes, the weight of his trust. She felt… lighter. For the first time in days, she allowed herself a small, private smile.
Her black Audi moved steadily through town, the hum of the engine a calm companion. She wasn’t looking for anything, not really. But when the curve of the road opened to a side street, her gaze snagged on something unexpected—an old boutique with faded lettering on its glass window.
Inside, mannequins stood dressed in soft fabrics—lace, satin, ivory folds that seemed to glow faintly in the afternoon light. Wedding gowns—fragile dreams draped in fabric.
Kristina slowed, surprised she had even noticed. A gown had never been part of how she pictured… any of this. Yet something in the quiet charm of that little shop tugged at her, curious, almost playful.
She stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed gently, the kind of sound that belonged to simpler worlds. Rows of dresses lined the walls, each one whispering of beginnings, of promises spoken softly rather than declared. Kristina ran her fingertips along a fabric, light as breath.
She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
And for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself the thought: Would they smile, seeing me in one of these? Would it matter to them as much as it suddenly matters to me?
She didn’t need to decide now. But she knew one thing—the idea no longer felt impossible.
A soft shuffle of footsteps broke her thoughts. From behind a curtain at the back of the boutique, an older woman appeared, silver hair swept neatly into a twist, her eyes warm and curious.
“Good afternoon,” she said gently, her voice carrying the kind of calm that belonged to places like this. “May I help you find something… special?”
Kristina hesitated, her fingers still resting against the fold of lace, before lifting her gaze to meet the woman’s.
Maybe she was ready to ask. Or maybe it was enough, for now, just to be seen standing here.
La Promessa
Kristina lingered near the nearest rack, her fingers brushing the hem of a gown, then pulling back quickly as if she’d touched fire. The fabric was soft, impossibly delicate—nothing like the sharp lines of black she’d wrapped herself in for years.
The older woman tilted her head, her smile knowing but not pressing. “You look like someone who isn’t quite sure why she’s here.”
Kristina let out a soft, almost nervous laugh. “That obvious?”
“Not at all,” the woman said gently, moving closer, her hands folded loosely before her. “But it happens. Some step inside because they’re certain. Others… because they’re curious.”
Kristina’s gaze swept the room again. All ivory, lace, satin, and light. It felt like standing in a world that was never hers. “I’ve never imagined myself in white,” she admitted quietly. “Not once. Black was always… easier. It felt like armor.”
The woman’s eyes softened. “And now?”
Kristina hesitated, then drew a slow breath, as if saying it aloud might make it real. “Now… there’s a ceremony coming. Not like the ones people usually imagine, not the kind with laws and judges. Just something… for us. For them.” Her lips curved faintly, almost shy. “And I thought—maybe I should at least see what it feels like. To stand in something like this.”
The woman nodded, her smile carrying no judgment, only understanding. “Then we’ll find something that doesn’t erase who you are… but honors who you’ve become.”
Kristina stood before the mirror, the third gown trailing around her like spilled light. Satin shimmered faintly under the boutique’s soft lamps, lace catching like frost at the edges. She’d tried three now—each different, each beautiful in their own way. And yet, none of them felt like hers.
Her reflection stared back—a stranger draped in white, as if the dress belonged to someone else’s life. Her hands slipped to her sides, fingers brushing the fabric as if even touch could not make it real. The sight almost made her laugh, though the sound would’ve been bitter. “Maybe it’s not for me,” she murmured, her voice low. “Maybe white just… doesn’t suit me.”
The older woman, watching from a respectful distance, chuckled softly. Not mocking—never that. It was the kind of laugh that carried warmth, like a grandmother humoring a child too serious for her age. “Or maybe,” she said, stepping a little closer, “you haven’t let yourself open to the possibility yet.”
Kristina lifted her gaze, puzzled. The words brushed at something inside her, and though she wanted to dismiss them, she couldn’t. She looked back at the mirror instead, at the woman staring back—a woman wrapped in light when all she had ever known was darkness.
Her hand moved almost without thought, trailing down the lace of the gown, fingertips gliding across the fabric as if searching for an answer hidden in its threads. She didn’t speak.
The woman approached then, her steps unhurried, her presence kind. She laid a gentle hand on Kristina’s arm, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. “What if,” the woman said softly, “I make you one? You tell me how you envision yourself on that day, and I’ll sew it just for you. Don’t give up just yet.”
For a long moment, Kristina couldn’t breathe. The suggestion was too tender, too personal—something she wasn’t used to being offered. She searched the older woman’s face, found no push, no pressure, only an open patience.
Something shifted in her chest, loosening. She still didn’t know what she wanted—not really—but the idea of possibility no longer felt like mockery. Slowly, she gave the smallest nod. “All right,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ll try.”
The woman’s smile deepened, lines softening her face. “Good. That’s all a dress really asks of you—to let yourself try.”
Kristina looked once more at her reflection. For the first time, it didn’t feel like defeat.
Before leaving, she told the older woman what she envisioned—something lighter, freer, not weighed down by fabric or tradition. They exchanged contacts, a small promise sealed between them.
By the time she drove back, the sun was lower, painting the estate walls gold. Gravel crunched beneath her tires as the gates opened to let her in. She didn’t expect anyone to be waiting.
But as soon as her car came into view, two figures shot up from the steps—Lucian and Eli.
They rushed to her the moment she stepped out, reaching her before she’d even closed the door. Their arms came around her at once—warm, urgent, overlapping—until she couldn’t tell who was holding her tighter. The confusion of their embrace startled her, and when they finally let her breathe, she looked from one to the other, eyes wide. “What happened?”
Lucian’s expression was tight, his voice steady but carrying a weight that betrayed him. “We’ve been calling you. Eli even called Maxim to ask if you were still there—he said you’d left almost two hours ago.”
Eli’s face mirrored the same worry, gentler but no less raw. “We were so worried about you.”
Kristina’s hand flew to her bag, fumbling for the phone she hadn’t touched since stepping into the boutique. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry—I didn’t bother to check. I had to look at something and… it slipped my mind to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Eli shook his head softly, his voice quiet as he touched her arm. “It’s okay. You’re safe—that’s all that matters.”
Lucian exhaled through his nose, the tension not yet leaving his shoulders. He turned toward one of the estate guards who’d hovered nearby, alert from the men’s agitation. “Call Sebastian. Tell him she’s home.”
The guard nodded quickly, hurrying off, and Kristina stood there between them—still caught in the warmth of their embrace, and in the sting of their worry.
Sometimes, it’s the unexpected door that opens the heart the widest.
—To be continued.
