"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.'

At 4 a.m., Ethan woke up.

He turned his head at the steady rhythm of breathing beside him. The woman next to him was sound asleep, her soft hair spread across the pillow, the beige comforter pulled up under her chin-still and quiet, like a sleeping kitten.

Without all the sass and snark from earlier, she was actually kind of... peaceful. He liked her a lot more when her mouth wasn't moving.

That cold heart of his, hardened from years of discipline, unexpectedly melted a little in that moment.

*****

Celeste had the best sleep she'd had in a while, waking up halfway into the day.

She sat up in bed, wrapped in the covers, yawning. For a second, she was confused at the empty space beside her.

Had she slept that deep?

Ethan got up and she didn't hear a thing?

Still groggy, she tossed off the blanket, went through a half-hearted morning routine, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

She had barely stepped onto the top stair when voices from the living room drifted up-Sophie chatting in hushed tones with a maid.

"He react at all?" Sophie clearly didn't want to be overheard, but unfortunately for her, Celeste was right at the perfect spot to catch every word.

Curious, Celeste craned her neck and peeked down-then froze.

'Wait a sec. Wasn't that the same maid from last night? The one who had on the little slip dress and literally ripped Ethan's boxers?'

Now this was getting juicy.

"I didn't get a good look. Sir didn't want to," the maid stuttered, cheeks blazing. "Then the missus came in, so I just... stopped."

"What are you afraid of her for?" Sophie sounded frustrated. "She's just a prop here. If Ethan actually cared about her, you think I'd need you?"

"Mrs. Larkspur, I really can't do this. Maybe... maybe find someone else?" The maid's whole face was red, words tumbling out in a nervous mess.

"Oh come on, we had a deal. I already paid you. You..."

Celeste had heard more than enough. Ugh. Forcing someone into that crap? Gross.

Without hesitation, she strolled downstairs, her voice light but clear enough to slice through the awkward tension. "Good morning, Mother."

Sophie instantly stopped mid-sentence and waved the maid away.

Then, brows furrowing, she walked up to Celeste, tone sharp. "You've got no sense of propriety, do you? Look at the time! Just out of prison and still sleeping in like this every day?"

She looked Celeste up and down skeptically. "Don't tell me you really just woke up..."

"Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to sleep in, but taking care of Ethan last night really wore me out. And he didn't wake me this morning either, so... here we are." Celeste gave an exaggerated yawn, looking appropriately 'apologetic.'

Ethan wasn't home right now, so she might as well throw his name around a little. It's not like he'd know-and technically, she wasn't even lying.

Sure enough, her words hit like a bomb. Sophie's eyes went wide in shock. "Wait, what? You- You were in the same room as Ethan last night?"

"Yep." Celeste nodded firmly. She then lowered her voice, glancing toward the kitchen. "Shh, Mom, there are staff around..."

Watching Celeste act all shy and bashful, Sophie's face finally lit up with delight. "That's wonderful! You must be exhausted!"

Seeing the servants cleaning up the dining table, Sophie called out, "Hold up-bring out the fresh steak from the kitchen, Celeste hasn't eaten yet. Why were you clearing anything away?"

Celeste stepped off the stairs in her slippers, a sly smirk tugging at her lips as she glanced around the room. Let Sophie keep fussing around her.

Yeah, she was right. Ethan might be in a wheelchair, but his status in this household? Still untouchable. As long as everyone thought their marriage was real and solid, she'd hold the spot of first lady in this house-no question.

And that? That was just step one.