Chapter 51 Chapter 51
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CHAPTER 51
“Don’t move,” a firm voice said behind her.
Celine froze on the spot. She turned slightly, confused, and the moment she saw who was standing close behind her, her stomach dropped.
Ethan.
Mr. Castellan himself.
She panicked immediately. “Sir— I… I was just fixing—”
Before she could finish, he held her elbow gently but firmly and moved her away from the spotlight area. He didn’t ask permission. He simply did it.
They ended up near one of the speakers, a little hidden from the crowd. His expression didn’t show anger or irritation. Just a calm seriousness.
“Your dress tore,” he said quietly.
Her heart stopped. “What?”
“You heard me,” he replied.
She instinctively placed her hand behind her. She felt it. The tear wasn’t small. The seam had given way. She wanted to disappear. Her face suddenly burned with embarrassment. She knew people walked behind her earlier. Did anyone see it? Were guests whispering? She worked days and nights planning this event just to ruin it with a wardrobe disaster?
She swallowed hard, fingers shaking. “I… I didn’t notice it. I’m sorry, sir, I’ll just—”
“Stay here,” he said.
He didn’t ask. He ordered.
Before she could argue, he walked off, leaving her standing stiff like a statue, unable to even turn properly because one movement and the whole thing might rip apart.
For several seconds she just stared at the floor. She didn’t know where to hide. She didn’t know how to stand. She didn’t even know how to breathe normally at that moment. She kept glancing around, praying no one would suddenly walk behind her.
Her phone buzzed in her purse, but she
couldn’t move to take it out. She couldn’t risk bending.
Then Ethan returned—this time with his manager and the permanent secretary.
“Handle the event,” he said simply.
Both men nodded immediately. They didn’t ask why. They didn’t question anything. They just accepted the instruction, understanding there was no room for dialogue.
“Something came up,” Ethan added and began walking away again.
When he got close to her, she quickly tried to excuse herself, embarrassed to the core. “Thank you, Mr. Castellan. I’ll find a way to fix the dress, I promise. I’ll just leave now—”
“Come with me,” he said.
She blinked. She had never heard that tone from him. Not angry, not rude. Just absolute authority.
Her legs followed him before her brain processed it. She couldn’t even argue. She didn’t understand what was happening or why he was involved in the first place. He was her boss. The CEO. He shouldn’t be fixing her clothing issues. He shouldn’t be helping her. He shouldn’t even notice something as small as a torn seam.
Yet here they were.
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When they reached his car, she paused. “Sir… you don’t have to. I can manage—”
“Get in,” he said without looking at her.
She sat silently, clutching her purse on her lap, sitting stiffly so she wouldn’t worsen the tear.
He didn’t play music. He didn’t make conversation. He just drove. It took ten minutes of awkward silence before they stopped in front of an upscale store—expensive-looking women’s boutique, the type that never puts price tags on display.
Her jaw nearly dropped.
“Wait here,” he said, stepping out.
She watched through the window like a confused child. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or panic. Why was he doing this? Why would a CEO leave his own company dinner to handle a ripped dress? Maybe he was embarrassed having an employee ruin his event. Maybe he didn’t want negative attention. Or maybe it was his perfectionism. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t make sense to her.
He walked back, carrying a box. He didn’t explain what he bought. He just opened the door and handed it to her.
She whispered under her breath, “Mr. Castellan… doing this?”
Soon, he was driving again. She expected him to return to the company. Instead, he drove somewhere else entirely.
To his penthouse.
She held her breath the whole time. She didn’t speak. She didn’t look out the window. She just stared at her lap.
When they arrived, he stepped out first. “Get down.”
She followed him silently, barely even walking properly because she didn’t want the tear to spread. Her shoes clicked lightly against the polished floor as they entered his large, spotless penthouse.
He pointed down the hall. “There’s a room there. You can change. I’ll drop you off.”
As if she was a burden he needed to remove quickly. His tone was cold, but his actions weren’t. She nodded and walked away carefully, still shocked by everything that just happened.
Inside the room, her hands trembled as she opened the box. The dress was stunning. She wasn’t sure if she should even touch it. Expensive, soft fabric, perfectly tailored. She changed slowly, afraid she might damage this one too.
Meanwhile, Ethan was pacing in the living room.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I’m just doing this as her boss,” he muttered. “Nothing else. She looked ridiculous trying to walk like that. That’s all.”
He sat down for a moment,
She finally stepped out. “Thank you, Mr. Castellan.”
He looked up. And she looked different. Not glamorous, not seductive—just elegant. Simple. Confident. Like herself, but more refined.
He didn’t compliment her. He only glanced away. “I’ll drop you.”
She followed him quietly to the car.
He tried to start the engine. Nothing happened.
Again. Nothing.
He stared at the wheel, annoyed. “The engine failed.”
She scratched her arm nervously. “I’ll manage, Mr. Castellan. It’s just 11 p.m. I can call a driver, or—”
“No,” he cut in. “its not a good idea.The street isn't safe you could spend the night here.”
He stepped out of the car, annoyed at the stupid timing, and she slowly followed. They walked back inside, her heels clicking without confidence this time.
He didn’t look at her. He didn’t soften his voice. “You can take the guest room.”
She nodded and went straight to message Ariana, explaining she won’t make it home.
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1:00 a.m.
A loud scream echoed through the
penthouse.
Ethan jumped off his bed and rushed out. Without hesitation, he barged into the guest room.
“What happened?” he asked.
Celine stood near the curtains, shaking slightly. “Thank God you came, Mr. Castellan. Someone is watching me outside the window. I swear I saw someone.”
His eyes narrowed. He walked immediately to the window and pulled the curtains back.
There was nothing there. Just darkness and quiet.
He turned on the lights. Still nothing.
He exhaled slowly. “There’s nothing outside.”
She pressed her lips together, embarrassed. She covered her face for a moment. “I just… I woke up to use the bathroom, and I saw a shadow. I’m sure something was there.”
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t mock her. He didn’t show irritation. He just looked at her like someone who understood fear without needing proof.
She cleared her throat, feeling stupid. “I’ll sleep in the living room. Sorry for waking you.”
She walked past him quickly,
avoiding eye contact. She sat on the far end of the couch, hugging a pillow, wishing the floor would swallow her whole.
For a moment, Ethan just stood there, watching her. He could see she wasn’t pretending. She was genuinely scared and trying not to look weak.
He didn’t say anything else. He pulled a blanket from the linen closet and dropped it gently on the armrest beside her.