Chapter 40 Chapter 40
Chapter 40
It was 8 a.m. already. Ethan was fully dressed in his sharp dark suit, tie fixed neatly, wristwatch clasped. Every detail of him looked perfect — the kind of man the world admired.
But deep down, he wondered when the world would finally see through him.
When they’d realize he wasn’t strong at all. That behind his cold face lived a weak, broken man holding himself together with silence.
He picked his car keys, his steps measured, his thoughts scattered. He didn’t want to think about last night, but it had been chasing him since 4 a.m. He got into his car, started the engine, and drove off.
By the time he arrived at Castellan Enterprise, the front desk was already busy. The sound of heels and phones filled the lobby.
He walked through the glass doors with his usual calm expression, eyes straight ahead, pretending not to notice anyone.
He went straight up to his office on the top floor.
The door clicked behind him.
Peace. At least, that’s what it looked like.
He turned on his laptop and started going through emails, ignoring the dull ache in his head. Work had always been his best distraction.
Soon, the big glass doors opened again.
Celine stepped in quietly. She looked different today — a vintage scarf tied loosely around her neck, and a baggy white shirt tucked into simple trousers. Her hair was loosely tied back. She looked nervous, unsure, but still tried to keep a small polite smile on her face.
Ethan caught himself glancing. Just a second — too quick for her to notice, but enough for him to get angry at himself. He looked back at his screen immediately.
He didn’t know why she made him feel like this — like his carefully built calm could fall apart at any second.
But whatever it was, he reminded himself it was something that would never happen. Not again. Not with anyone.
She walked slowly toward her desk, avoiding his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Castellan,” she said softly, her voice low, eyes fixed on the floor tiles.
He didn’t look up.
He just gave a single nod.
That was it.
She walked past him to her desk, her fingers trembling as she set down her bag and laptop. The air between them felt stiff — like there was too much left unsaid but neither wanted to start.
Hours passed in silence.
Only the faint sound of typing and the hum of the air conditioner filled the room.
\---
By lunch hour, Celine had started to relax a little. The morning had been quiet — painfully quiet — but at least she hadn’t embarrassed herself again.
It had become part of her routine to get both their meals. Ethan had assigned that to her weeks ago, saying it saved time. She never argued. She would just quietly collect his special order — a foreign meal that came with neatly sealed drinks and fruit — and carry it back to his office.
She balanced the tray carefully as she pushed the door open.
“Sir, your lunch,” she said softly.
He didn’t answer.
He was focused on the document in front of him, glasses resting lightly on his nose.
She walked closer to set the tray down.
But the moment she reached the edge of his desk, her hand slipped.
The next thing she saw was a small splash — sauce spilling right across the front of his white shirt and down his suit jacket.
Her breath caught instantly.
“Oh my God I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mr. Castellan!” she said in panic, reaching for the napkin on the tray. “I didn’t mean it just— I’m sorry!”
Ethan’s eyes lifted slowly from the document. His gaze met hers, and for a second, everything stopped.
She froze.
Her heart beat so fast she could barely think. Her eyes met his.
He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stared.
Celine swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she tried to clean the spot on his sleeve. “I’m really sorry,” she said again, voice trembling.
She expected him to yell — to throw the file aside and lash out the way most bosses would. She even prepared herself for it, already picturing herself packing up her desk.
But instead, he said nothing.
He didn’t even flinch.
He just stood there, staring at her.
His expression was distant, but his eyes lingered on her face longer than he meant to.
There was something fragile about her in that moment — her shaky hands, the way she bit her lip, the tiny scar near her temple she probably thought no one noticed.
Then he blinked, turned away suddenly, and walked straight toward the bathroom attached to his office.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
Celine stood there frozen, holding the napkin that was now stained with sauce. Her face was red, and her heart wouldn’t stop racing.
She didn’t even know why it mattered this much — but it did.
“Why am I always like this?” she muttered under her breath.
She placed the tray properly on the small side table and sank into her chair. Her hand rubbed her forehead as she sighed.
“I’m a mess,” she whispered, half to herself, half to the empty room.
\---
Inside the bathroom, Ethan turned on the tap and let the cold water run. He took off his jacket and stared at the stain on his shirt, expression unreadable.
He grabbed a tissue and started wiping it off, but his reflection in the mirror caught his attention.
For a second, he just stared at himself.
At that calm, emotionless face everyone saw.
He hated it.
He should have yelled. He should have at least reacted like a normal man would. But instead, he’d stood there frozen — his mind somewhere else, caught in those same eyes.
He clenched his jaw and splashed cold water on his face again. “Get yourself together,” he muttered.
When he stepped back out, Celine immediately stood up. “I’m really sorry, sir. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she said quickly.
“It’s fine,” he said flatly, not meeting her eyes.
That was all.