Chapter 49 Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Friday Night
“Put the ribbons on that side,” Celine said, pointing impatiently toward the corner. Her voice sounded tired, and her heels had already left red lines on her feet, but she acted like she didn’t feel anything.
“Make sure those flowers go with the white lilies. And please don’t mix the scented ones with the plain ones, it messes up the smell,” she instructed another person who kept pairing whatever he saw together.
“Madam, should we switch the lighting?” a technician asked.
“Yes, a bit warmer,” she replied without even looking at him. She was already writing something down, sending a text, and adjusting a flower vase at the same time.
She fixed a table layout with her left hand, held a walkie-talkie in her right, and signaled the serving team with her eyes. She didn’t know which part of herself was still working, but everything needed to be done. People kept looking at her like she had four hands.
“Someone fix the cards, the names are upside down!” she shouted.
The person rushed over and began flipping them.
“Not that way!” she corrected, walking over and doing it herself.
One of the workers whispered to another, “She doesn’t rest, does she?”
Celine heard it but pretended she didn’t. She didn’t need anyone thinking she was weak. She didn’t take breaks. She didn’t ask for help. She just wanted everything perfect.
She walked back and forth, arranging flowers, folding napkins, checking the schedule list, replying emails, answering questions. If someone came with a problem, she had a solution before they finished explaining it.
Finally, she paused for a moment and glanced at her phone. The time shone at the top of the screen:
9:00 PM
Her chest jumped. “I’m late,” she muttered. She was supposed to be home already. She needed to rest before tomorrow. She had planned to get up early to review the VIP list. She sighed, grabbed her purse, checked one last decoration, then another, then another she couldn’t stop.
\---
From the other side of the hall, Ethan stood silently, hands in his pockets, leaning against a glass wall. He didn’t even know why he was still standing there.
At first, he had only come to check arrangements like everyone expected the heir to do. But he stayed. And kept staring at her.
She didn’t notice him once. Not even when workers greeted him on the way in. She was buried in work like the world would collapse if she slowed down.
He didn’t understand why he stayed. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was disbelief.
He watched her grab a stack of files, place them in an orderly line, and then redo the same arrangement two minutes later. She didn’t see anyone. She didn’t see him.
Hours passed. He didn’t even check his own time. He just leaned there and kept watching her finish things no one would notice tomorrow.
When she finally left the hall, she didn’t look around like a tired person who wanted appreciation. She just wiped her forehead, lifted her purse, and headed out through the back door.
Ethan straightened himself, shocked at how long his legs had been still. He followed her with his eyes, not with his feet. He told himself he was only leaving because she left. Not because he waited for her.
\---
Outside, the air was cooler. Celine walked through the parking lot and almost groaned when she saw a familiar car.
“Mr. Castellan is still here,” she muttered, spotting the Lamborghini. She looked around, expecting to see him somewhere, but he wasn’t near. She assumed he had gone back inside or was still working somewhere in the building.
She rolled her eyes. Everyone worshipped Ethan like he had more brains than the rest of the company combined. She wasn’t interested in that. She walked past the shiny black Lamborghini without even glancing twice.
She reached the gate and waited for a taxi. One stopped, and she entered immediately, thankful to escape the long day.
She didn’t know someone saw her leave.
\---
Ethan’s Penthouse – 10:15 PM
He dropped his keys on the table and collapsed onto the couch. He didn’t even bother removing his shoes. The lights from the city came through the large windows, but he didn’t care to close the curtains.
His phone vibrated. His mother’s name appeared. He accepted the call and lay back, resting his head.
“Mom, please, I don’t have anything to offer. I don’t have to come to the villa,” Ethan said into the phone.
He wasn’t angry he was tired. It sounded like he was fighting the same battle he had been fighting since he turned eighteen
. His father made the decisions. His mother asked him to obey. And he was expected to quietly follow.
Maria’s voice came slowly through the speaker, softer than usual, like she was forcing her words out just to keep her son close.
“I know, Ethan. Just… do this for me.”
His mother had used “for me.” Not “for us.” Not “for your father.” For her. And that was the problem she always stood between him and the man he didn’t want to please.
“Just do this for me,” she repeated, and this time he heard her trying not to break down. He could almost picture her holding the phone with both hands, biting her lip, pretending she wasn’t begging.
He rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated. “Mom, don’t do this. Don’t be emotional. I don’t want to have issues with Dad, and tomorrow is the Castellan dinner. Everyone important will be there. You know I have to be present.”
He wasn’t explaining like a child.
He was defending himself like a man whose decisions were constantly overshadowed. He wanted her to understand him, not corner him.
“Ethan… please.”
Just one word please.
But it came from the woman who had defended him every time his father pushed too hard, the woman who checked his temperature in the middle of the night when he got sick as a child, the woman who celebrated his smallest achievements like they meant something.
He hated that she knew exactly how to speak to him. He hated that the moment her voice cracked, it felt like he couldn’t say no. Not to her.
“Fine,” he said quietly.
There was a long pause, like Maria had taken a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Thank you, Ethan,” she said, and her voice wasn’t shaky anymore. It sounded relieved. Almost peaceful. Like she had finally gotten what she needed.
He didn’t reply instantly.
He stared at the city lights without seeing them. He didn’t know if he agreed because he wanted peace, or because he didn’t know how to say no to her.
“Goodnight, Mom,” he finally murmured.
“Goodnight, son,” she whispered.
He ended the call and placed the phone on his chest. He hated that this felt like losing.