"Give me a hand."

She honestly thought he'd be able to manage getting up on his own by now.

Celeste hesitated a little before going over and helping him off the floor.

It was only then that she realized how tall Ethan actually was. Sitting in the wheelchair didn't show it, but now that his six-foot-one frame was leaning on her, he felt ridiculously heavy.

She struggled to get him back into the wheelchair, panting as she did so.

"If that's all, I'm going back to bed." She yawned like she could fall asleep standing-no joke, the nightmares had been relentless these past few days.

Her careless words made Ethan's brow tighten dangerously, like he could swat a fly to death with the tension.

"It's late. I need a shower," he said, in that low, no-discussion tone, voice sharp with chill.

Celeste stopped mid-step.

"...A shower?" Her brain was already turning into a confused mess.

Was he seriously asking her to help with his bath?

No way. That gorgeous woman earlier offered, and he turned her down. Now she walks in and gets stuck with this job?

"Yeah." Ethan clearly had zero patience left. He was already wheeling toward the bathroom. "Come here."

Again, he was ordering her around like she was his assistant.

Ughhhh. Could she say no? Who takes a shower at this hour?! But also, ditching a disabled guy alone in this state felt kinda heartless...

Fine. Whatever. She'd suck it up.

After standing there mentally prepping herself for a moment, Celeste finally dragged her feet forward.

Never in her life had she helped someone shower. Back when she was the pampered Goodwin heiress, she had maids doing all this for her.

She went through the motions she vaguely remembered-started the water and filled the tub.

Ethan sat nearby in his wheelchair, eyes fixed on her.

Under the dim LED bathroom light, Celeste's delicate features were softened. As she bent over the tub, the exposed curve of her collarbone caught the light. She dipped her hand to check the temperature again, adjusting it slightly.

"Alright, water's ready. Hop in." She turned around and said it offhandedly.

And instantly regretted it.

She'd forgotten-he couldn't "hop" anywhere by himself. She'd have to undress him first.

Sure enough, Ethan's whole expression dropped a few shades darker.

The air in the room instantly tightened, like all the oxygen had been sucked out.

Celeste looked at him, then awkwardly pointed to herself. "So... you want me to, uh, help with your clothes?"

He didn't reply, just kept staring at her like she'd grown another head. The kind of stare that made her skin crawl.

Alright, point taken.

She braced herself and helped him up again, wobbling under his weight like she might tip over any second.

With one arm holding him steady, she started unbuttoning his shirt, gritting through her teeth. "You're seriously heavy. Who usually helped you shower before?"

And then she muttered, "If I'm stuck doing this from now on, I might need to go buy a cane or something, otherwise-"

The rest of the sentence never made it out.

In a blur, Ethan pushed her hard, frustration snapping.

She stumbled, her foot catching on some spilled water, and she ended up landing straight on him as he'd just started getting into the tub.

Both of them crashed into the bath at once, water splashing everywhere.

Now fully soaked, her white shirt clung to her like second skin, showing off every curve. But worse than that-her hand had ended up somewhere it really shouldn't be...

"How long are you planning to stay there?" Ethan's voice suddenly erupted above her, full of burning anger.

"Ah!"

Celeste finally screamed, only just realizing the awkward position she was in. Her right hand felt like it was on fire-his body was definitely reacting. She could feel every bit of it.

She yanked her hand back like she'd been electrocuted, scrambled up from him in a messy panic.

But the tub was tiny, and the lighting wasn't doing her any favors. In a split second, her eyes snagged on... certain places on his chest.

Wow!

'Deep breaths, Celeste. Just breathe.'

Her skin glistened with water, like a fresh blossom just out of the pond, her soaked shirt clinging tightly to her body. Ethan could very clearly see everything, and for a moment, the temptation nearly broke his self-control.

"Your little tricks are getting more and more pathetic."

His tone was ice-cold, but you could hear the rage he was trying so hard to swallow.

"Geez, chill. It's not like you've got something the whole male species doesn't. No need to act like it's gold-plated." The words slipped out before she could stop herself-like seriously, who even cared?

"What did you just say?"

His eyes went stone-cold, and even under the dim light, Celeste could feel his glare piercing through her like needles. It was hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"I... pretend I said nothing!"

She exhaled and climbed out of the tub, fumbling around until her hand landed on a washcloth. Then she began scrubbing his back like mad, not even caring if she was gentle.

Her frantic scrubbing had Ethan's jaw clenched up tight, lips pressed into a straight line. Not a word came out of him.

'Wow. Dude can really hold it in?'

Celeste tossed the washcloth at him, clearly over it. "Wash the front yourself."

She wasn't about to get accused of 'seducing' him again, no thanks.

Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He grabbed the cloth and nonchalantly started scrubbing his body, right there in front of her.

Celeste's eye twitched. She quickly turned her head away. She had seen enough tonight.

Once they finished up, Celeste handed him a robe and helped him into it. While crouching down to tie the belt around his waist, she tried really hard not to look... down there. But no matter how hard she focused, her mind still flashed back to what her hand accidentally grazed earlier.

Ethan stared at her face, and out of the blue, remembered a wedding invite that had landed in his inbox that morning.

"There's a wedding the day after tomorrow. You're coming with me." His tone was indifferent, like this was some routine obligation. She was, after all, still technically his wife.

"A wedding?"

Celeste froze mid-knot and looked up. The guy was still pulling that emotionless face like everyone owed him money.

That was his idea of 'inviting' someone?

"Yeah, no. I'm not going."

She declined flat-out, tied a firm knot at his waist. "I'm not into weddings. And I've done jail time-everyone in that circle knows me. Why would I wanna get dragged into that mess?"

Ethan's face darkened. He wasn't used to Celeste turning him down so bluntly.

"Anyway, you're clean, clothed, all set to sleep."

She helped ease him into bed, tucked the blanket around him, then stretched her arms and glanced at the time. Almost 3 a.m.

"I'm off to bed too. 'Night."

She turned to leave, heading toward the door. But just a step out, Ethan spoke up from behind her.

"Oliver and I grew up together in the military compound. Grandpa considers him like a grandson. For his wedding, every member of the Shaw family has to be there."

Celeste stopped with her hand on the doorknob, brows furrowing. She turned around slowly and asked, "Whose wedding did you just say?"

"Oliver," Ethan said flatly, still lying there looking unbothered.

He'd seen the guy at his grandfather's birthday party not long ago, though Celeste had still been locked up at that time.

"You probably met him once, three years ago when we got married." His tone was more guessing than stating-he didn't attend the banquet anyway.

The bedroom was eerily quiet, like seriously drop-a-pin-and-hear-it quiet.

Celeste clutched the golden-framed door, her nerves shot to the point her hands were trembling.

Sharp as ever, Ethan noticed something was off. He'd been about to shut his eyes, but now reopened them slowly.

Bracing himself with one arm, he sat up a bit. Ten meters away, Celeste just stood frozen there, fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms-completely unaware.

Oliver. That name burned into her chest like a searing brand.

"What's on your mind?" came Ethan's cold voice from behind. Of course he noticed that cocktail of hurt and anger written all over her face.

Snapping back to reality, Celeste turned and saw his face had gone cold again-talk about mood swings.

"Nothing," she said after pulling herself together. "Do I really have to go to that wedding? Like, can't skip it?"

"Yeah." His voice was indifferent, pretty clearly running low on energy. Supporting his upper body even a little was tiring, and he slowly lay back down.

"Fine."

Logic reminded her-she wasn't Isabella anymore. She was Celeste now.

If she wanted revenge, uncover her parents' deaths, and take back what was hers, she needed the Shaws. More specifically, Ethan.

Yet she, the daughter-in-law of the elite Shaw family, didn't even have the right to sleep in the master bedroom. No wonder even the maids looked down on her.

"I'll go," she said finally. "But I've got one condition."

Silence.

Ethan didn't seem to care-or maybe he just couldn't be bothered.

Celeste rolled her eyes. Honestly, talking to him felt like shouting into a void. Might as well act instead.

"You're not saying anything-I'm taking that as a yes."

With that, she spun around and headed back to her tiny room. After rummaging through a few drawers, she gathered a blanket and pillow, marched right back into Ethan's room, and straight-up claimed the only open space on the bed.

It was massive-nothing like her cramped single bed where turning over felt like navigating a maze.

"Now this is more like it," she sighed, flopping down with obvious satisfaction.

Ethan's expression darkened immediately. He was on the verge of exploding.

"Celeste, have you even heard of shame?" he practically growled.

She didn't even flinch. Acting like she belonged there, totally unbothered.

So that was her condition?

He was already regretting that moment of silence earlier.

"Shame doesn't feed you!" she shot back. "And come on, Mr. Shaw, we're legally married, marriage certificate and all. What's with the separate rooms? We're supposed to sleep here together. Besides, it's not like we can actually do anything..."

Her last words got stuck in his brain like a screaming alarm. That final line? Basically a slap to the face.

Three years in jail-how did her comebacks get so sharp?

Ethan wanted to shut her down so badly, but decided to just give her his back and not respond. Safer that way for his sanity.

Night deepened outside. The window cast faint moonlight across the room.

Lying beside him, Celeste had her eyes open wide-clear, focused, totally different from earlier.

'Oliver, maybe it's time I gave you a surprise.'