Chapter 15 #2
Catherine looked up, meeting her mother’s gaze with defiance that felt weaker than she intended. “No patient was harmed. The outcome was still excellent.”
“This time,” Evelyn interjected swiftly, her voice cutting through the air. “But what about the next? Mistakes compound, Catherine. Emotional distractions compound even faster.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft rustle of Evelyn reorganizing the files. Catherine felt the tension coil inside her, guilt and frustration mingling bitterly.
“I won’t apologize for having a life,” Catherine said finally, quietly defiant.
Evelyn’s eyes flashed with something akin to disappointment. “You mistake having a life for losing your discipline. I taught you better than that.”
Catherine flinched inwardly, an old, familiar ache resurfacing in her chest. The ghost of a younger Catherine lingered in the room, the girl desperate for approval, for acknowledgment.
She felt fourteen again, reprimanded for a less-than-perfect grade, standing helplessly before a mother whose standards she could never quite reach.
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.
“If you wish to be extraordinary, Catherine, you can’t afford distractions.
Love, attachment—they weaken resolve. They introduce doubt and hesitation.
Those are the things that separate a good surgeon from a legendary one.
And in this family, we do not settle for good. ”
Catherine drew a quiet, sharp breath, her voice nearly a whisper. “Is that what you think? That caring about someone makes me weaker?”
“I think,” Evelyn replied slowly, deliberate in her cruelty, “it already has.”
The room fell quiet again, suffocating in its stillness.
Catherine knew better than to argue further; Evelyn had already made her judgment clear.
The familiar disappointment and sting of inadequacy welled sharply within her.
Every bit of progress, every fragile moment she had shared with Sloane, now felt impossibly distant, a mistake she’d allowed herself to make.
She rose stiffly, gathering her composure. “If that’s all—”
“It is,” Evelyn interrupted coldly. “But remember, Catherine, your legacy is not built on moments of weakness. It is built on sacrifice and strength.”
Catherine turned, moving quickly toward the door, each step heavy. As her hand touched the cold brass knob, Evelyn’s voice chased after her, quietly relentless.
“You are not just representing yourself. You represent all of us. Choose wisely.”
Without turning back, Catherine pulled open the door, stepping into the sterile hallway and closing it firmly behind her. She leaned briefly against the cool surface of the wall, allowing herself one moment to breathe, to gather the shattered pieces of her resolve.
Evelyn’s voice echoed in her mind, ruthless and clear. Catherine pushed off the wall, spine straightening and gaze hardening once again. As she walked back toward her office, the Ice Queen mask settled firmly back into place.
She was a Harrington. She had no choice.
Catherine stood at the hospital breakroom counter, her hand gripping a cup of lukewarm coffee.
She stared blankly at the steam drifting lazily upward, lost in a heavy fog of thought.
Evelyn’s voice echoed in her head, relentless and sharp.
Each word had sliced through the careful peace she had started to build, leaving nothing but frayed edges behind.
The door swung open abruptly, jolting Catherine from her trance. She looked up, shoulders instinctively stiffening as Roz breezed in, wearing that irreverent smile of hers, eyes sparkling with knowing mischief.
"Ah," Roz announced dramatically, pulling out a chair and spinning it around to sit backward, arms resting lazily over the backrest. "There's my favorite victim of maternal interrogation. I heard Mother Dearest has been on a warpath today."
Catherine gave her a flat look, unamused. "I'm not in the mood, Roz."
Roz tilted her head, ignoring the warning entirely. "Oh, come on. You're not even a little amused by how predictably vicious she can be?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "Let me guess, you're distracted, you're emotional, and your priorities are slipping. Stop me if I miss anything."
"Roz," Catherine said sharply, her voice brittle, "enough."
Roz's playful smirk softened into something more serious. "You know she's just bitter, right?"
Catherine raised an eyebrow skeptically, her grip on the coffee tightening. "Bitter about what?"
Roz leaned forward, chin resting in her hand, eyes dancing with amusement and just a hint of sincerity.
"Bitter that no one ever wanted her enough to make her question the job.
Bitter that no one broke down her precious walls.
" She paused meaningfully, gaze pointed.
"But someone’s breaking down yours, aren't they? "
Catherine felt the sting of Roz's words, her expression carefully blank even as heat rose in her chest. She looked away, jaw tight. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Roz chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. I've never seen you flustered like this. It’s almost cute."
"Stop it, Roz," Catherine snapped, voice sharper than she'd intended.
Roz sighed, pulling back slightly. "You can't hide this, Catherine. Trust me, I’ve tried. Eventually, you’ll have to admit that someone got under your skin.
" Roz’s gaze drifted briefly, and her expression softened.
"Look at me and Sam. Our dear mother nearly imploded at the thought of a Harrington choosing something beyond career, and yet, here we are. "
Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly. "And do you honestly think Mother respects that decision?"
Roz shrugged casually, her voice steady. "I think Mother doesn’t get to decide who we love or how we live. She just pretends she does. At the end of the day, she can disapprove all she likes, but it doesn’t change anything."
Catherine looked away again, a tense silence stretching between them. She hated how transparent she felt under Roz’s probing gaze.
"You can't fix this by ignoring it," Roz added quietly. "Trust me, I know. If someone makes you happy, you don’t owe her an apology."
Catherine opened her mouth to reply, frustration bubbling up, but the door opened again, this time gently, and Olivia stepped cautiously inside. Olivia’s soft eyes darted between her sisters, sensing the charged atmosphere immediately.
"Am I interrupting?" Olivia asked hesitantly, holding a file against her chest protectively.
"Not at all," Roz drawled, standing and stretching theatrically. "Just giving our dear sister a reality check."
Catherine pressed her fingers to her temple, exasperation evident. "Roz was just leaving."
Roz grinned, unapologetic, stepping past Olivia with a wink. "Good luck, Liv. She's all yours."
The door clicked shut behind Roz, leaving Olivia watching Catherine with gentle concern. Slowly, she crossed to the counter and set the file down, leaning against the edge quietly.
"Are you okay?" Olivia asked softly.
Catherine bristled, defensive and tense. "I'm fine. Just tired."
Olivia studied her, her gentle eyes seeing far too much. "You're pulling away again."
Catherine inhaled sharply, frustration simmering. "I'm just busy."
Olivia shook her head, not backing down. "No, Catherine. Busy is an excuse, and you know it. You're pulling back—from us, from her, from everyone."
Catherine’s jaw tightened, her voice clipped and tight. "I don't have time to explain myself to you, Olivia."
Olivia's gaze didn’t waver, soft but persistent. "Maybe not. But maybe you need to start explaining it to yourself."
A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant hum of hospital noise outside the breakroom. Catherine's shoulders slumped slightly, her usual composure faltering.
"It’s more complicated than you think," Catherine finally said, voice quiet, eyes averted.
Olivia stepped closer, careful, as if approaching something fragile. "I'm sure it is. But complicated doesn’t have to mean impossible."
Catherine looked up sharply, something vulnerable flickering briefly in her eyes. "You don't understand, Olivia. Mother is right. I'm distracted. I’ve spent my whole life building this career. If I let go, even a little, what happens then? I lose everything."
Olivia shook her head, her voice gentle yet unwavering. "What if you gain something instead? What if you find out you're allowed to have more than a career and a family name?"
Catherine swallowed hard, her chest tight. "I’ve never been allowed to have anything else."
"Then maybe it's time to start allowing yourself to have this," Olivia whispered softly. "You deserve it, Catherine. And it's clear she makes you happy."
Catherine laughed bitterly, short and sharp. "Happiness is fleeting. It won't last. Not for someone like me."
Olivia frowned slightly, reaching out to lightly touch Catherine’s shoulder. "It won't last if you keep pushing it away. Believe it or not, you're allowed to be human."
Catherine didn't respond, the words settling uncomfortably inside her. Olivia pulled back her hand gingerly, her voice still gentle but stronger.
"Roz is right about one thing," Olivia added carefully. "Mother doesn't get to decide who you love. Only you do."
The words lingered, heavy and meaningful. Catherine met Olivia’s earnest gaze, the fight within her briefly visible before she managed to mask it again.
"Thank you, Olivia," Catherine said quietly, voice barely audible.
Olivia smiled softly, knowing better than to push further. "You don't have to do this alone. Remember that."
Catherine watched her sister leave, the door closing shut behind her with a soft click. Alone again, Catherine stared down at her cold coffee, Roz and Olivia's words echoing through her mind, pulling her in different directions.