"I have an appointment."

Swirls of technicolour emotions twisted in her gut as she spoke — nausea, uncertainty, panic and stress — wrecking havoc all throughout her nervous system. The reception of the AGM headquarters alone sent her mind into a war zone.

Like a refurbished and lavish pantheon, there were marble walls and floors as far as the eye could see, with slender ionic columns every seven meters and tall vines that ached to reach the some above the. The dome in question was a Renaissance art of blue and black - a painting of weary Atlas holding the sky, grey streaks running through his ink hair and beard, muscles bulging under the weight of the world. She couldn't help but think of the TG motto: the world is in your hands. The corner of her mouth twitched, knowing the irony behind it. The world wasn't in their hands; the world wasn't even in her hands. Maybe someday it will, so that three decades of suffering would be worth it.

The man behind the reception counter, dark haired and dark eyed, gave her an unimpressed look. "What? No hello? No hey Chris, you look great? I put this stupid tie on for a reason."

"You look the same as you always do. Annoying and reeking of sampled Dior," Katherine scowled. "I have an appointment with my mom, now take me to her."

Chris let out an offended huff, grabbing his lanyard and exiting the reception through the door on the right. Katherine followed hot on his heels as Chris made his way to an elevator of ivory and gold, swiping his card to access the staff elevator. She stepped into the elevator after him, wrinkling her nose when she had to come into close contact with him. Having to smell Sauvage left a temporarily assault on her nasal passage and it gave her a minor headache. She simply stepped back to create distance between them, an action that Chris noticed with a small frown. She wanted to really put some distance between them, to tell him that he didn't mean anything to her. Just a means to an end that was so tantalizingly close, yet so far away.

God, the heavy cologne was distracting her from her thoughts. Chris was her mom's personal assistant and only got that job through a connection with Katherine's cousin, Alana. It was simultaneously funny and not-so funny at the same time, since he couldn't even get hired for a burger joint without making someone do it for him. Ditto Alana. But his status as a gateway between her and her mom meant that she could use him as an opportunity. She was able to leave her own mark on the empire, however small it was. 

She could feel her heart pounding up to her throat as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, right into a lavish penthouse that served as one great office space, all for one great person. But the decorative pillars and the fake vines stretching out to the dome art on the ceiling would never be enough to fill the void of the owner's heart. Nothing would. Ignoring the puzzled look on Chris' face, she sucked in a sharp breath and marched past him, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to emulate an authoritative figure. Her façade only lasted a moment, when she could hear the violin music floating from an adjoining room. 

Her crumbling began externally, with her sagging shoulders and her tightened lips. The music was all too familiar — a piece by Bach. Violin Concerto in A minor was a piece that acted as a string that tied her life together, the reoccurring pattern that followed her throughout her years. It haunted her, the hollow music sending shudders down her spine. Despite the melancholy of the tune, her body acted on its own, moving towards the direction of the music as it reverberated through the penthouse and filled her senses with a twisting dread. 

She located the source of the music on the other side of the elevator, where a large marble desk sat at the centre of the room, with a piano to one side and a woman playing a violin on the other side, looking out the glass and to the skylines and city life below. The woman was tall — taller than Katherine, give or take four inches — and slender, with her posture poised and refined and her blouse and skirt smoothed and clean. Her dark hair was pulled into a neat bun with a hair pin encrusted in diamonds, matching the necklace that adorned her neck. Katherine felt underdressed and unruly in comparison, wearing a red dress and a black coat, her own dark hair left down. 

The bow in her right hand danced across the strings of the violin with a precision that seemed almost robotic. Katherine always felt the urge to hold her breath whenever she had to play for her mother, knowing that she would inevitably make a mistake and consequentially be punished for it. It was the same for her sister and her brother, who also could never play as well as their mother could.  

As the composition came to an end, the woman lowered the violin from her chin, the bow attending her side. She turned, her eyes landing on someone behind Katherine. An inkling of resent sparked in her chest. "You can leave now, Beckett. I'd like to talk to my daughter."

Katherine hadn't noticed that Chris caught up with her. "Of course. Uh, quick reminder that you have a meeting with the shareholders in an hour, Ms Montague."

When Chris left, her mother finally spared a glance at Katherine, and she could see how Marienne's eyes tightened to a squint. "Stand straight. You're a Montague, so act like it."

She straightened upon command, letting in a shaky breath so that she could say: "You wanted me to be here?"

"It's your birthday, no? Turning thirty four?" Marienne smiled. "Happy birthday, Odessa."

It was strange how squared her shoulders were, how stiff her body was, even in the face of her mother smiling. Smiling? Katherine would like to use the phrase like her mom had won the lottery, but whatever the lottery could give Marianne was pocket change compared to her wealth — not including the money the Montague family already had. The best comparison she could use was if Marianne plucked Roy blood money from Logan Roy's shaking fist. It was a thought that became a little scenario in Katherine's head, where she liked to imagine herself handing the key to the Roy empire to her mother, beaming at the look of pride on Marienne's face.

Maybe she'd like to add the bratty Roy kids crying in a corner somewhere in her fantasy. Katherine rolled her eyes every time a Roy would be on the front page of Montague owner newspapers, and she'd like to think they did the same every time a Montague appeared front and center on Roy owned newspapers. Kendall Roy avows to fight climate change in recent interview. Shiv Roy claps back at Republican Senator on Twitter. Does Roman Roy have a Napoleon complex? More on page six. Katherine would rip off the front page and mould it into a ball, then toss it off the highest level of Atlas Global Media's headquarters in hopes that it would land on a Roy dick rider. 

"Deianeira and Adonis, are they..." Marienne drifted off, her brows furrowed as she struggled to find the right word. "...Productive? It's been a while, and they haven't scheduled an appointment on my calendar to see me."

Katherine swallowed thickly. "Uh, yeah, they're fine. And busy; super busy."

Her mother's lip twitched, completely unconvinced. "Well if they're out making their mark on the world, they wouldn't have such a terrible liar come here to protect them. I'm not stupid, Odessa. Your sister couldn't come up with a single thought of her own if her life depended on it, and your brother will throw himself at any lickspittle that gives him an ounce of attention. And you—"

Marienne pointed down at the marble coffee table with the bow in her hand, down at the newspaper with an unflattering picture of Katherine exiting a penthouse that belonged to Stewy Hosseini. Her hair was unkept, fluttering in the wind, along with her coat and dress. Katherine wasn't necessarily bothered by candid pictures of her taken by paparazzi, she was so used to it that every time she went for a jog in her neighbourhood, she always expected a man to jump out of the bushes with a camera in hand. Besides, nothing could be worse than the one tabloid article of her from when she was eighteen. No, no, it was the headline that made her wince: Is Katherine Montague sleeping her way to the top? Her wince shifted to an expression of fear, eyes wide when she realised that the worse thing about the newspaper is that it wasn't Montague owned, it was Roy owned. 

Fear imploded like a supernova in Katherine's chest, making her tremble. "Mama—"

Her words were caught short when Marienne struck her daughter with the wooden part of her bow, hitting the side of Katherine's head. The Montague let out a pained yelp, holding her bruised head with one hand for a moment. But she knew that if she continued to cower like that, her mom would simply hit her again and again until she took it without complaint. With tears stinging her eyes, Katherine straightened, rapidly blinking the tears back until only her agonised face was the only evidence of her mother's wrath. 

"Disgusting, stupid little bitch," Marienne snarled. "Have I taught you nothing? I've given you a comfort that people could only dream of - money, power, influence, opportunities - and instead of building something of your own, you spread your legs for that money hungry whore so that he would do all the work for you. Do you need Maysberry Capital's dirtiest knight to sweep you up like you're a stupid princess?"

"No," Katherine eyed the bow warily. "But I didn't—"

The blow of the bow stung her skin as she was hit again, making her flinch. The pain brought tears once more, forming a stream down her cheeks. With an expression of disdain, Marienne pointed at the floor, and Katherine knew what she had to do. She knelt despite her heels making it difficult to lower herself gracefully. Her knees rubbed against the cold marble tiles, her hands clasped together as if she was praying. Her eyes were firmly planted to the floor, staring at the marble swirls with a blurry vision. 

"Please forgive me, mom," Her voice shook with hurt. "I'm so sorry that I failed you and disgraced you by being a stupid slut. Please don't hurt me."

There was a small eternity where everything was silent, save for Katherine's broken sobs and erratic breathing. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her stomach twisting in those familiar Gordian knots, awaiting for her mother's next move. She almost half expected Marienne to hit her again and again until the bow snapped in half. It had been so long since her mom last punished her so severely that it was a shock when Marienne hit her with fluid strikes and without hesitation. 

Instead, Marienne took a step forward, resting her right hand on the back of Katherine's skull so that the cold sensation of the bow's stick would press against the broken Montague's head. It was like her touch burned the girl like hot molten with the way it pained her, but Katherine forced herself to tolerate it. Marienne gently guided Katherine's head to rest upon the older woman's abdomen, allowing Katherine to bury her tear stained face into her skirt and silently sob. With each short gasp, Katherine was forced to breathe in the dark scent of Marienne's perfume, poisoning her oxygen. 

"Oh, Odessa," sighed Marienne, the disappointment in her tone making Katherine quiver. "You're in your thirties and you still have a long way to go. I don't know how I could ever pass on my legacy when all my children are just... bad products."

Katherine said nothing, trying to find comfort in being close to her mother as she spoke. "Stupid and naïve. No doubt you got that from your cokehead of a father. Snorting lines with Logan Roy sent him to an early grave, it's almost like you want to join him."

Defensively, Katherine spoke up. "He's dead, just let him rest."

"I'll let him rest when I get a rest. Now get up and clean yourself. I won't have the shareholders see you in such a state."

And just like that, Marienne moved away, leaving Katherine like a broken vase on the floor, forced to put pieces of herself back together so that her mother wouldn't be humiliated amongst people more important than her own daughter. Katherine stood, slightly unsteady on her feet as she wiped the smudged mascara off her face with the back of her hand. Swallowing down any remaining urge to cry, she turned and stormed off towards the direction of the elevator. 

Her body was still shaking a little, trying to express her feelings without completely breaking down. But it wouldn't hold for long, tears already forming along her waterline, her hands softly trembling at her sides. Fuck Marienne. Katherine was just trying to follow in the steps of her mother, trying to find a way to help the company. What Katherine should've done was fuck her mother over by climbing higher than Marienne. Higher than Atlas Global Media or Waystar Royco, if that was even possible.

Anger rose in Katherine's throat like acid, burning the soft lining of her trachea. She wished she could spit her poison on her mom, watch her melt like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz. Then the Roys. And then everybody else who would dare undermine Katherine's iron rule. 

The elevator opened, and the men walking out of them one by one stared at Katherine's sullen face. Something about their disgruntled looks and the fact that Marienne prioritized them over her made her snap. 

"What are you stupid little bitches looking at? Ms Montague is ready to peg your little assholes," Katherine snarled, before getting into the elevator. 

Their priceless expressions was almost worth the onslaught of regret she felt as the elevator doors closed.