Catherine stood before the mirror for a moment longer than necessary, smoothing her fingers lightly over the structured lines of the vintage Chanel suit as if confirming its place on her rather than adjusting it. The fabric carried a quiet authority, the kind that did not demand attention and yet never went unnoticed, and the familiarity of it settled something inside her.
This had once belonged to her mother—one among many, each passed down with an unspoken understanding that it was more than clothing. It was legacy. It was belonging.
The pearl lanyard rested neatly against her collarbone, completing the look with an ease that felt almost instinctive.
When she turned to Maximilian, there was no hesitation in her posture, but there was still that small pause before she spoke, a flicker of something softer beneath her usual confidence.
"How do I look?"
