Chapter 7
907 Words
THE DINNER THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The little Italian restaurant at the edge of Riverside had always been Catherine’s favorite. It wasn’t fancy, but it had warm lighting, garlic bread that melted in your mouth, and a resident violinist who played love songs whether customers asked or not. Alfred had made a reservation under the name A. Mureithi, and Catherine arrived before him, sitting by the window, twisting her fingers nervously.
After the argument with Ms. Mwihaki at the office, Catherine had gone the entire afternoon without replying to Alfred’s texts. She wasn’t angry at him—she just needed space to breathe. Being treated like a threat, a distraction, or a problem had reopened wounds she thought were long healed. She had promised herself she’d never be belittled again.
But she also didn’t want to push Alfred away. He had been nothing but gentle.
So she came to dinner.
When Alfred walked in—dressed casually, looking tired but relieved to see her—Catherine felt her heart settle.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Hey.” She tried to smile.
He pulled out her chair before taking his seat. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I just… needed time,” she said honestly. “Today wasn’t easy.”
Alfred nodded. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with that. What she said was uncalled for.”
Catherine sighed. “It’s not the first time I’ve been made to feel… less. Because of where I work. Because of where I come from. Because I’m not polished enough, or rich enough, or whatever enough.”
Her eyes stung, and Alfred reached out, gently covering her hand.
“You’re enough,” he said firmly. “More than enough. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”
She swallowed. “Alfred… who are these people to you? Why do they look at me like they know me—and don’t want to?”
He tensed.
There it was.
The question he had been desperately trying to avoid.
He forced a smile. “It’s complicated.”
She pulled back her hand. “Try me.”
Just before he could speak, the waiter arrived with menus. When he left, Catherine leaned forward again.
“You know almost everything about my life,” she said. “Where I grew up, my family, my job… but with you? I feel like there are locked doors everywhere.”
Alfred stared at the tablecloth.
He felt like two men—one who wanted love, and another who was shackled to legacy and duty.
Finally, he lifted his eyes. “I’m afraid of losing you,” he confessed. “That’s why I haven’t told you everything.”
Catherine blinked in surprise.
“Losing me? Why would your truth make me leave?”
Alfred hesitated… then a vibration on his phone cut through the tense air. He glanced down.
Mother.
Again.
He muted the device.
Catherine noticed.
“Your family,” she said quietly. “They don’t want you… dating someone like me, do they?”
Alfred clenched his jaw. “My family doesn’t even know I’m seeing someone. And they don’t get to decide who I love.”
Her breath caught.
Love?
Did he even realize he’d said that?
Before she could ask, he continued:
“A lot is going on at headquarters,” he said. “The board is pushing changes I disagree with. My mother is… very controlling. And someone is leaking information. I didn’t want to drag you into that mess.”
Catherine’s frown softened. “You’re not dragging me anywhere, Alfred. I just want honesty.”
He nodded—about to speak fully, openly—
Then everything shattered.
A tall, elegant woman walked into the restaurant.
In a navy-blue designer coat. Heels that screamed money. A face Catherine recognized instantly from business magazines and corporate interviews.
Mrs. Margaret Mureithi.
Alfred’s mother.
And she walked straight toward their table.
Alfred’s blood ran cold.
Catherine froze.
Mrs. Mureithi stopped in front of them, staring Catherine down before turning to her son.
“Alfred,” she said, voice sharp as glass. “We need to talk.”
Catherine slowly looked at Alfred.
“Alfred?” she whispered.
“You’re Alfred Mureithi?”
The billionaire.
The CEO.
The man whose face was on the company’s annual report.
The truth finally hit her, crashing through every assumption.
Her chair scraped as she stood.
“You lied to me?” Her voice trembled. “For weeks?”
Alfred reached out. “Catherine, please—”
But she stepped back, shaking her head.
Mrs. Mureithi folded her arms. “Young lady, I think you’ve been under a very wrong impression.”
Catherine’s chest tightened.
“No,” she said, staring at Alfred with hurt in her eyes. “I think I finally understand everything.”
Then she turned and walked out of the restaurant.
Alfred rose to go after her—but his mother grabbed his wrist.
“If you follow her,” she said dangerously, “you will regret it.”
Alfred looked at the door where Catherine had disappeared…
Then he looked at the hand gripping him.
And for the first time in his life—
he pulled away.
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t ever hold me back again.”
Then he ran after Catherine.
But when he reached the street—
she was gone.
- Writer
