Chapter 10 Chapter 10 The Wife Who Claimed the Master Bedroom

"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.'