Catherine's quiet "thank you" didn't get a response. Instead, the man asked simply,
"Where are you going?"
His voice spread through the stillness of the car like the low hum of a cello, deep, magnetic, and with that unique charm only a mature man could possess. It tugged at her senses almost imperceptibly.
Catherine's thoughts drifted for a moment, then she refocused on the road ahead.
"Could you drop me off at the bus stop up ahead? I can make my way home from there."
She didn't want to trouble anyone—especially not a man she barely knew.
He let out a quiet chuckle, calm and controlled.
"Once you've brought someone out, you have to make sure they reach their destination safely, don't you think?"
Catherine bit her lip, finally saying,
"I'm going to People's Hospital."
Up until now, his gaze had stayed fixed on the road. But as soon as she spoke, he glanced at her, eyes flickering with a trace of amusement.
Catherine caught his look and immediately thought back to the hospital—the way he had mocked her, taunted her for being bullied, yet somehow made Lucca cry. And tonight, in the restaurant, his words had rattled Channing to no end… and then he had kindly driven her away from that chaos.
Now he looked at her again, eyes cold, teasing, almost unreadable.
Righteous, yet wicked.
That was the only way Catherine could describe him so far. Sometimes he seemed to stand on the side of justice—but she couldn't deny that he could be cruel too, particularly in a way that got under people's skin.
Her thoughts sharpened into vigilance. Who knew when he might throw another barb her way?
Perhaps sensing her wariness, he turned his gaze back to the road and spoke softly,
"Are you sure you want to go to the hospital like this, with your face swollen?"
Catherine stiffened. Of course—her cheek was badly bruised. How could she show up like this to accompany Renata? If her mother knew Channing had hit her, she would surely flare up in anger. Catherine could never let Renata go into surgery carrying that kind of worry or rage.
She hadn't even thought about it until now. He had reminded her at exactly the right moment.
"Thanks for the reminder," she said, a little embarrassed that she had initially assumed the worst about him.
As the car approached an intersection, she quickly added,
"I'll just go home first. If I take a left here and go straight, I'll get to my place."
The man said nothing, steering steadily left.
No sooner had they turned than his phone rang. He put on his earpiece and answered, and Catherine froze at how gentle his tone was—completely different from the sharp, teasing man she had just seen.
"I have something to take care of, so I'm leaving. You guys go ahead, don't wait for me," he said warmly.
The person on the other end said something else, and he laughed softly, voice full of indulgence and care.
"Eat well, don't worry about gaining weight."
"Mm, alright. I'll hang up now."
He ended the call, and Catherine couldn't help but recall the moment at the hospital—how carefully he had tended to that pregnant girl, how nervous he had been.
After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke,
"Um… if you have somewhere to be, you can just drop me off up ahead."
It was obvious he had been at the restaurant as well. If he had delayed his plans for her—a complete stranger—it wouldn't feel right.
From his calm tone and gentle expression just now, she guessed it had been a woman he had been with. Given his age, he was probably married, with a settled life. Out of courtesy, Catherine offered to get off first.
He didn't respond, and the car kept moving forward. Catherine realized she was almost home, so she let it be.
Bert had actually been dining with Dave and Lilian at that same restaurant, along with their families. Of course, Lilian brought Morrison, and Bert had Laurent and his daughter and son—everyone came with their kids.
Since Bert had returned to Burg Eltz., the three of them made it a habit to meet up from time to time. Not too often—half a month or, if busy, maybe a month—but never less than once a month. Bert enjoyed the warmth, the lively energy of everyone together, even if he often found Morrison irritating.
Daniel and Tiffany never joined the gatherings, nor were they invited. They respected Tiffany's feelings—no one wanted to see their husband constantly around another woman's son. Bert, aware of this, tried to keep visits brief; usually father and son met quietly outside the house.
Dave and Lilian had their own times to visit Daniel and Tiffany, separate from these gatherings. These get-togethers were purely siblings and close friends, unaffected by blood relations. Over time, they had become genuine friends, even without blood ties.
Earlier, it had been Lilian who called him. Before opening the Channing store, Bert had stopped by the restroom, only to run into Catherine once again, nearly caught in another precarious situation orchestrated by her father.
Bert couldn't help but wonder why it always seemed like she was being bullied. First, by her half-sister Lucca, now almost sold off by her father.
After last time—when she had glared at him for teasing her about being bullied—he had been ready to ignore her. He expected her to stay meek. Instead, she stood her ground, hitting Channing with a verbal barrage that left the man fuming. Bert had to stifle his laughter from the backseat.
She had spoken the truth. Why shouldn't Lucca marry if she wanted to? Break up with Gerald and remarry if necessary. Channing loved Lucca dearly—so why was Lucca now forced to rescue her father from his own financial troubles? The Channing family's fortune or downfall had nothing to do with Catherine; only Lucca's future hung in the balance.
Bert had felt relieved when she resisted… until he heard the slap.
The sound had been sharp, almost deafening. Channing must have unleashed all his strength, a middle-aged man's full force.
Bert wasn't a habitual smoker or drinker, but he carried cigarettes for occasions where social appearances demanded it. Feeling an inexplicable annoyance, he lit a cigarette and stepped outside.
And there she was—leaning against the wall, face covered. He didn't even glance at the swelling on her cheek.
Now, in the car, he still didn't know why he had driven her away, back home. Perhaps it was that he simply couldn't bear to imagine Channing dragging her to that… man's bed.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
Catherine slumped in the passenger seat, exhausted, staring blankly at the nightscape rushing past.
The sting in her cheek mingled with the ache in her heart, leaving her completely drained, both body and soul.
The car came to a stop in front of the building where Catherine lived. She unbuckled her seatbelt and gave a polite nod.
"Thank you… for tonight."
The man turned to look at her, his gaze lingering on the redness and swelling of her cheek before meeting her eyes.
His dark, penetrating eyes seemed to look right through her. Then, in his steady voice, he spoke:
"You should go home and put some ice on it. That'll help."
He was referring to the injury on her face.
"Th-thank you…"
Catherine turned her face away, feeling a little embarrassed.
"I—I'll be going now――"
"You live here?"
The question stopped her in her tracks. His brow was furrowed as he scanned the surrounding buildings.
The words hit her like a pang.
"Yes… I live here. It's… old, isn't it?"
Catherine gave a self-deprecating smile.
"But… after tomorrow, this place won't even be mine anymore."
With that, she opened the car door and ran off.
Although she had already sold the apartment and found a new place, she hadn't had the time—or the mood—to move yet. Catherine planned to wait until after her mother's surgery tomorrow, to see the outcome, before settling into her new home.