"This lake..." Maximilian said, his gaze shifting from the frozen expanse back to her, his voice quieter than usual. "It might not be the same as the one from our previous life... but..."

His words trailed off as he reached into his pocket.

When his hand came out again, it held a small velvet box.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still.

Catherine’s breath caught as she took a step back, her boots slipping slightly against the thin layer of snow beneath her. She steadied herself quickly, but her heart was already racing, her pulse loud in her ears.

This was it.

Maximilian looked at her, and for the first time since she had known him, there was something unguarded on his face.

Nervousness.

His composure wasn’t gone, but it had cracks now. His breathing was heavier, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the box, as though he was holding onto courage along with it.

Catherine had never seen him like this.

And somehow, that made everything feel even more real.

He adjusted his position, the cold air swirling gently around them, snowflakes drifting lazily between them, settling into her hair, catching on his coat. The lake behind him stretched wide and silent, the pale winter sun casting a soft glow over everything, turning the moment into something almost unreal.

"Catherine Elizabeth Preston," he began, his voice steadying with each word, though the emotion beneath it remained unmistakable.

"I love you and I want you by my side... to love and to hold... for the rest of my life."

There was no grand speech. No elaborate poetry.

Just him, looking excited and anxious at the same time... And the truth he had carried for far too long.

Catherine didn’t realize when the tears began to fall. They slipped down her cheeks quietly, her lips parting as she tried to speak, but her voice caught somewhere between laughter and something deeper.

"Yes," she said, breathless.

Then, firmer, she repeated.

"Yes."

The word felt too small for what she felt, but it was all she could give without breaking completely. She helped him up.

Maximilian exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a faint, disbelieving smile breaking through as he opened the box. The ring caught the soft winter light, glinting gently as he took her hand in his.

Her fingers were cold, even through the gloves, and he carefully slipped one glove off, his touch warm, grounding, as though anchoring her to the moment.

Slowly, deliberately, he slid the ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly.

Catherine stared at it for a second, as if trying to convince herself it was real.

Then she looked up at him.

And without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pressing herself against him as though she never wanted to let go.

Maximilian laughed softly under his breath, relief and joy blending into something lighter, something freer than he had felt in a long time. His arms came around her, holding her just as tightly before he lifted her slightly off the ground.

And then he spun her.

Once.

Twice.

Her laughter broke through the quiet of the snowy clearing, bright and unrestrained, echoing softly across the frozen lake as the world around them remained still.

Snow fell gently around them.

The past stayed where it belonged.

And for once... Nothing stood between them.

Catherine forgot the world entirely as she remained in Maximilian’s embrace, the two of them seated by the frozen lake, the quiet stretching endlessly around them. Snow fell in soft, patient flakes, settling into her hair and the shoulders of his coat, but she barely noticed.

Her gaze was fixed on her hand.

On the ring.

The first thing that drew her in was the stone—a large Alexandrite set at the center, so clear and brilliantly cut that it seemed almost alive. It caught the pale winter light and shifted effortlessly, from deep, royal purple to a soft, luminous green, as though it carried two souls within it.

Her breath softened.

Slowly, her attention moved to the band.

Yellow gold, shaped into delicate twists, like ribbons caught mid-motion, forever preserved. And there, holding the gem in place, were lilies—her lilies—crafted with quiet precision, their petals curling gently around the stone as though protecting it.

Ribbon...

The memory surfaced, unbidden.

In their past life, she had thought he wouldn’t give her the vow ribbon. That single moment, that absence, had changed everything.

And now... He had given it to her.

Not as something fleeting, not as something the wind could carry away, but as something solid, unbreakable. Gold, wrapped around her finger, bound to her in a way nothing could take from her again.

Her lilies.

His promise.

All of it, right there.

"You like it?" Maximilian asked softly.

Catherine nodded, unable to look away.

He didn’t need to explain it. She understood. Every detail, every choice—she could feel the thought behind it, the care, the quiet devotion woven into something so small and yet so immense.

And... she finally had a ring.

Not just any ring.

Her ring.

"It’s perfect," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She kept staring at it, as though afraid it might disappear if she looked away.

Maximilian watched her, something warm and full settling in his chest, and then she leaned closer, closing the distance between them. The kiss that followed was soft at first, but it deepened almost immediately, unrestrained, filled with everything they hadn’t needed to say aloud. It was not hurried, not desperate, but full—of relief, of longing fulfilled, of something that felt like finally arriving.

When they parted, her forehead resting lightly against his, she let out a quiet breath.

"Why Alexandrite?" she asked, her fingers still brushing lightly over the ring.

She wasn’t complaining.

She was curious.

Maximilian shifted slightly, pulling her onto his lap, his arm settling naturally around her waist as though she had always belonged there. The earlier nervousness had faded completely, replaced with something calmer, more certain.

He smiled, brushing a kiss against her cheek.

"You haven’t figured that out?" he asked.

Catherine frowned slightly, shaking her head.

"No."

He took her hand again, lifting it gently between them. As he tilted the ring, the gem caught the light differently, the color shifting once more from purple to green.

"When I first saw it," he said softly, his voice close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin, "I was surprised by how something could hold two colors so beautifully... as one."

His gaze lifted to meet hers.

"Your eyes are green," he continued. "Mine... carry that shade of purple."

A small pause.

"I thought it suited us."

Catherine’s heart tightened.

There was something so simple about the way he said it, and yet it held so much.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice softer now, warmer.

Yes, it suited them.

More than anything.

She leaned in again, closing the small space between them, her lips finding his once more. This time, the kiss lingered, slower, deeper, as though neither of them wanted to let go of the moment they had finally reached.

And in the quiet of the snow-covered world, with the past behind them and the future waiting ahead... They didn’t.

-----

Meanwhile, in the lab, Jonathan sat hunched over Catherine’s research papers, his eyes scanning every line with restless intensity. He had gone through the material more times than he could count, yet something in him refused to let it go.

There had to be a mistake.

There was no way Catherine could outpace both him and Ashley—not at this level, not with something this complex. It didn’t sit right with him, not logically, not professionally, and certainly not personally.

So he went through it again.

Page by page.

Line by line.

His fingers traced over annotations, calculations, margins filled with her notes. At first, it was the same as before—fragments that didn’t quite align, transitions that seemed incomplete, a sequence that simply refused to stabilize.

Until... He paused.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned closer to the page, his breath slowing as something caught his attention. A small deviation. Subtle. Almost easy to miss unless one was looking for failure instead of success.

Jonathan straightened slightly, then bent over the paper again, this time sharper, more focused. He adjusted the sequence mentally, following the logic not as it was written—but as it was meant to be understood.

A beat. Then another. And suddenly...

It worked.

The entire sequence aligned. Clean. Elegant. Complete.

Jonathan froze for a second, as if his mind needed to catch up with what he had just seen. Then his eyes lit up, a slow, rising brightness that had nothing to do with admiration.

Everything to do with realization.

And opportunity.

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor behind him as his lips curved into something sharp.

"So that’s what you did..." he murmured under his breath.

A hidden step. A deliberate gap.

And now... Now he had it.

His pulse quickened, the implications unfolding rapidly in his mind. The scalability, the application, the reach of it... this wasn’t just research.

This was leverage.

Power.

Money.

A lot of it.

His grip tightened around the paper as a grin spread across his face, unrestrained now.

"Those billions..." he said softly, almost tasting the words.

"They’re mine."

He immediately sent an email to Dorian.