Katherine Novel By Anya Seton Novels & Stories

“No. It has to be another name. Another girl. It can’t be her.” But memories surged, tearing through the walls I had built. Katherine Dalton. The most beautiful she-wolf of our generation. I saw her again in the red gown at the award ceremony, her light-brown curls glowing under the lights, a crown on her head. She had stood beneath the spotlight, declaring to the world she wanted me. On my eighteenth birthday, she had worn black silk, carried a cake she made herself. She trembled as she rose on her toes, pressing her lips on mine.

And my mother wanted to have lunch with her like this was some kind of crazy mafian novel. I ignored my feelings, turning away from the window and heading to my bar. Whiskey in a glass and a seat was all I needed Ana soon I had it. My mind wandered again. To Katherine. To how she looked earlier when she stepped into the estate. Wide-eyed, staring at everything like it was a dream. Her small steps. Her silence. Fear and confusion in her eyes. I wouldn’t blame her. She came from a home where it looked like her despised her. Her own father couldn’t protect her. And now she was here. With me.

At the moment, Seth was in the middle of tucking a flower behind Catherine's ear. I lunged at Catherine like a madwoman. "This is my wedding dress! How dare you wear it without my permission! And worse, you even ruined it!" Catherine collapsed to the ground after getting shoved like the fragile maiden she was. She began crying out of fear. Seth pushed me away before wrapping an arm around the feeble-looking Catherine. He roared furiously at me, "That's enough, Callista Parker! This wedding dress is meant for my viewing pleasure anyway!

I had chosen simplicity over ostentation—a decision I now questioned as I watched her command the room's attention. Even though my beauty had reached new heights—almost no one present could outshine me—my simple style was completely overshadowed by Katherine's flamboyant radiance. She wore an elaborate gown of deep crimson with gold embroidery, adorned with jewels that caught the light with every movement. Katherine responded with a gentle smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm terribly sorry for making everyone worry. Our Morgan Estate did indeed suffer a fire, and I truly fell gravely ill."

Not if she didn’t want me there. My phone stared at me mockingly and I assured loudly as I picked it up and went through the text I got earlier today while talking to Henry about what transpired at Franklin's school. "Katherine's mom was murdered by someone close to her and she's next." It was a simple text.. except it wasn't simple. While we might not have been too close to each other while we were married, it was quite obvious that Katherine loved her mother a lot. Wasn't that why she married me? To protect her mother's company?

Katherine Throne: After Alexander dropped me at home, I immediately went to my study desk to get started on studying. I have already missed out on a lot of work and I needed to catch up or else it would be detrimental to my top grades, and I can’t have my mother get another reason to lash out at me again. No, never. I was about an hour deep, buried in my books and study materials when I heard a knock on the door. I paused, arching my brows. The knock came again.

The handsome man says. When the surname sinks into my brain I quickly get up to shake his hands so as not to seem rude. Now I understand where Enzo gets his handsome looks from. “Good evening, Sir, my name is Katherine Luciano. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “The pleasure is all mine. May I ask why such a beautiful lady is sitting alone?” he says with a beautiful smile on his handsome face. “Oh, I came with someone. He said I should wait for him, he went… Oh, here he comes.”

“Because... it’s a bit, hmm, erotic. And I want you to read it without judging me. Just read it with an open mind. Are you going to promise me that?” The kids exchanged glances but eventually nodded. *************************** Katherine’s POV My full name is Katherine Cassin. Because of the promise I made to my grandchildren, I’ve decided to document this story. Only when they’ve crossed the age of eighteen will they be allowed to read it. This is how it all began...Just like my grand kids, please don’t judge me. Read it with an open mind. I acted according to my impulse.

She doesn’t move back, but I can tell by the stuttering of her heart and the way she grips her chair that fear has her in its grip. “That can be arranged,” I say, then smirk as I walk away from her and call Valentine to take her back to her room. Little Katherine, the hunter who swore to kill creatures of the night and slaves of the moon, got aroused watching me drink another woman’s blood. I’m sure she’ll hate herself for that more than she can ever hate me.

And with that, she walked out of the dining room, leaving Kingsley sitting in front of untouched eggs, a cooling coffee cup, and the heavy, suffocating silence of a marriage barely breathing. That same morning in Brooklyn, the light filtered in softly through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow over the small living room of Katherine’s apartment. She sat curled on the couch in an oversized hoodie, legs tucked beneath her, a novel in her hands. A half-empty mug of chamomile tea rested on the side table, its steam long faded. The book was good—slow, but good. She had underlined a sentence in pencil just a few minutes ago: “Sometimes the things we walk away from are the only things we ever