Chapter 63 Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Ethan had gone through the magazine again.
He had already seen it once, but this time he didn’t flip through it fast. He slowed down, page by page, like he was searching for something he didn’t fully understand yet. When he got to the part where he and Celine were captured at the dinner, his eyes paused.
It was the photo.
He remembered that moment clearly.
Her dress had torn slightly at the back, right when she stood up. She hadn’t noticed yet, but he had. Without thinking, he stepped behind her, close enough to block it from view. Not to touch her. Not to draw attention. Just to cover her, to keep eyes away
There was no plan in it. No meaning attached. It was quick, quiet, instinctive.
But the camera didn’t know that.
The picture caught him standing there, solid behind her, his body shielding hers, and from the outside it looked like something else entirely.
“Wow,” he found himself saying, quietly.
The word surprised him.
It was already past six in the evening. The office was silent in that calm, end-of-day way that only happened when everyone had gone home. No footsteps. No phones ringing. No assistants moving in and out. Just him, the magazine, and the hum of the air conditioner that he had forgotten to turn off.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and looked around. The Castellan office usually felt controlled, sharp, exact. But at moments like this, it felt too large. Too empty. Like it was waiting for something to happen.
He looked back at the page.
Celine’s face wasn’t clear in the picture, but he knew it was her. The curve of her back, the way she stood slightly stiff, like she always did when she didn’t know where to put her hands. He noticed things like that about her now. Things he never paid attention to before.
He closed the magazine slowly.
“This is nothing,” he said to himself, even though no one was listening.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the photo mattered.
Ethan reached for his phone and unlocked it. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. The photography company was affiliated with Castellan Enterprises, which meant he had direct access. He hesitated for a brief moment before pressing call.
The phone rang twice.
“Good evening, Mr Castellan,” a warm male voice answered. “This is Leo from Castellan Visuals.”
“Good evening,” Ethan said. His voice was steady, businesslike. “I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time.”
“Not at all, sir. I’m still at the studio. How may I help you?”
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the magazine lying open on his desk. Page twenty-four. He had gone over it more times than he cared to admit.
“I was reviewing the annual magazine,” he said slowly. “The Castellan dinner coverage.”
“Yes, sir,” Leo replied, clearly pleased. “It was a big night. The images came out very well.”
“They did,” Ethan said. A brief pause followed. “There’s a particular photograph I’m interested in.”
“The one on page twenty-four,” he continued before Leo could ask. “The side-view image.”
There was a moment of silence on the line, just long enough to tell Ethan the man knew exactly which photo he meant.
“I know the one,” Leo said carefully.
“I want the raw copy of that image,” Ethan said. “No edits. No cropping. Just the original file as it was taken.”
“Only that one, sir?” Leo asked.
Ethan’s fingers tapped once against the arm of the chair. “That one first,” he replied. “Then I want the rest of the raw dinner images sent as well. Every single frame from that night.”
“All of them?” Leo repeated, surprised.
“Yes,” Ethan said firmly. “I want to see everything the camera caught. Nothing filtered. Nothing adjusted.”
“Understood,” Leo said after a second. “I’ll prepare the hard copies and the digital files.”
“I want them delivered directly to my office,” Ethan added. “Personally.”
“Of course, Mr Castellan.”
Ethan hesitated, then spoke again, quieter this time. “That image on page twenty-four… it must remain exactly as it is. No retouching. No reinterpretation.”
“I assure you, sir,” Leo replied, his tone serious now, “what you receive will be untouched.”
“Good,” Ethan said.
“And Mr Castellan,” Leo added, “this request stays confidential.”
“That’s important,” Ethan said. “Very.”
“You have my word.”
They exchanged brief pleasantries before ending the call. Ethan placed the phone back on his desk and stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.
He wasn’t sure why he wanted the photos.
Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe control. Maybe he just didn’t like the idea of moments from his life being out there without him seeing them first.
He stood up and walked toward the large glass window in his office. The city lights had already begun to glow. Cars moved below, people heading home, living their lives without thinking about magazines or photos or stories frozen in print.
He thought of Celine.
He thought of how she had looked earlier that day, focused, tired, still showing up even when he had told her not to. He remembered handing her lunch and how surprised she had looked, like she wasn’t used to being noticed in that way.
“Get a grip,” he muttered.
He wasn’t the kind of man who got distracted by staff. He had rules. Boundaries. Control. That was how he built Castellan Enterprises into what it was.
Yet here he was, requesting personal copies of photos because one image wouldn’t leave his mind.
Ethan returned to his desk and sat down. He opened his laptop, but instead of working, he stared at the screen. The words blurred. His thoughts drifted back to the dinner. To the sound of laughter, the soft music, the way people watched him without realizing they were doing it.
He didn’t like being watched.
Except that night, he hadn’t noticed.
He checked the time again. 6:42 pm.
He reached for the magazine once more and flipped to the page he had torn his eyes away from earlier. He studied it closely now, not as a headline, not as gossip, but as a man trying to understand himself.
“People see what they want to see,” he said quietly.
He closed the magazine and placed it in his drawer, locking it without thinking.
As he grabbed his coat, a strange sense of restlessness followed him. It wasn’t excitement. It wasn’t fear. It was something unsettled, something unfamiliar.
Ethan Castellan was used to knowing exactly why he did things.
Tonight, he didn’t.
He turned off the lights, walked out of his office, and shut the door behind him, unaware that one photograph had already begun changing more than he was ready to admit.