Whisper Destiny

Chapter 81

~ Natasha ~

"Catherine Ortiz Wows the Fashion Industry with Another Spectacular Show"

The headline flashed across my screen, bold and bright, accompanied by a slideshow of photos from the event. Catherine's designs were breathtaking, a harmony of innovation and elegance that only she could conjure. The industry was hailing it as one of the most unique shows of the season.

I couldn't help but linger on the article even after reading it for thousand time, scrolling through the images that felt simultaneously familiar and distant. In the photos, she look radiant as ever, standing at the finale to take her bow, surrounded by her team. She looked powerful, confident, utterly in her element. The sight made my heart ache.

I sighed, setting the phone down for a moment before picking it back up, unable to resist.

As much as I'd love to be with her right now, Catherine's schedule was booked solid for the whole month—or more. New York, Milan, and soon Paris—the spring-summer fashion season demanded her full attention. She had worked tirelessly to get to this point, and she deserved all the accolades. But that didn't make her absence any easier to bear.

My own life had been equally chaotic. The joint venture between Grayson Industries and The Savoy to acquire our new hotel was an all-consuming endeavor, pulling me into a labyrinth of meetings, late-night calls, and endless streams of emails, there wasn't much time for daydreaming. Still, Catherine managed to creep into my thoughts, whether I was staring out the window of a boardroom or reviewing financial projections.

And, despite our efforts try to stay connected, but most days, our calls are rushed, our messages are brief—leaving me feeling the weight of Catherine's absence, which each day pushing her away from me.

I missed her. God, I miss her so much. The kind of longing that left an ache in my chest, sharp and unrelenting. At times, I caught myself wishing Catherine were just another person—someone who didn't have the world's spotlight trained on her every move. And maybe I wouldn't have the weight of being a Grayson hanging over me. But those thoughts never lasted long. I loved her exactly as she was. I wouldn't change a thing.

Now, sitting in the quiet of a brief break before my next meeting, I scrolled idly through my phone, refreshing my messages every few minutes, hoping for something from her.

Nothing.

"She must be busy right now," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I tried to stifle the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I stared at my phone, the screen dimming as it waited for a notification that wasn't coming. Catherine was still in Milan, wrapping up the last of her commitments before flying to Paris. I knew how demanding her schedule was, how every moment of her time was meticulously accounted for. But knowing didn't stop the flicker of hope that sparked every time I glanced at my phone, an almost involuntary reaction, as if her name might magically appear.

She'd told me not to stay up and waiting for her call last night. "I don't know when I'll make it back to the hotel," she'd said, her voice soft with apology, "and you have an important meeting with Franck Arnold tomorrow. You need your rest."

It was practical advice, spoken with care, but it didn't make the silence feel any less heavy.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair, phone still in hand. Scrolling had become a habit, a way to pass the time between meetings, but today it felt like a cruel reminder of everything just out of reach. Headlines about Catherine were everywhere. My chest tightened as I scrolled further, almost compulsively, through the articles and photos.

And then, one headline stopped me cold.

"Catherine Ortiz Spotted with Olivia Dean: Close Friends or Something More?"