Before Catherine could look closer, her pulse spiked, too fast and too sudden. Her chest constricted. Her breath turned shallow, uneven.
She knew what it was. She would never escape it in this life.
Just like clockwork, she thought, watching rain streak down the glass like threads of silver.
A panic attack.
She refused to let it show. Not in front of Maximilian. He could never be allowed to learn her weaknesses.
"Excuse me," she said evenly.
She set her napkin down with deliberate calm, rose from her seat, and walked toward the restroom, her fingers clenched around the phone hanging from her neck, as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the present.
The moment she entered, her composure shattered.
She collapsed onto the couch, clutching her chest. Her heart thundered so violently that she was certain it would give out. For a terrifying second, she truly believed she was going to die.
But she knew better.
No one died from a panic attack.
