Chapter 4
843words
Ethan Holt had changed into a black silk robe, water still dripping from his dark hair.
He maneuvered the wheelchair himself, but his injured fingers made his movements clumsy.
The wheelchair's wheels caught on the edge of the carpet. After several frustrated attempts, he still couldn't free it.
His expression darkened instantly, the air around him becoming heavy with tension.
[Ding! Daily task issued: Help target get unstuck. Task reward: Random. Failure penalty: Experience target's current frustration for one minute.]
Hell no, I didn't want to experience a tyrant's frustration.
I jumped up from the floor and hurried behind him.
"Mr. Holt, let me help you with that."
I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and, with a slight push, freed it from the carpet.
The "Power Pill" hadn't completely worn off—I still felt stronger than usual.
Ethan Holt clearly hadn't expected my voluntary help. His body stiffened momentarily.
[Ding! Task completed! Rewarding host with one "Universal Key," capable of opening any ordinary lock.]
Great. Another bizarre reward.
I pushed him to the edge of the bed, but he didn't move. He just stared at me with an unreadable expression.
His stare made my skin crawl. "Mr. Holt, are you… ready for bed?" I asked cautiously.
He didn't speak, only lifting his splinted hand slightly.
I got the message immediately.
With one hand out of commission, he couldn't get into bed alone.
I sighed, walked in front of him, and bent down. "Let me help you."
I placed his good arm around my shoulders, wrapped my arm around his waist, and used all my strength to lift him from the wheelchair.
But damn, he was heavier than I expected. I stumbled forward, falling straight into his arms.
My cheek pressed directly against his chest.
Through the thin silk, I felt his warmth and the strong, steady thump of his heart.
My face burned crimson instantly.
[Ding! Target's heart rate 115! Villain Meter decreased 2%! Current Villain Meter 93%!]
Wait, that works too?
Ethan Holt's body went rigid.
He looked down at me, flushed and tangled in his arms, his gaze dark and unreadable.
"Throwing yourself at me now?" His voice was rough, dripping with mockery.
I scrambled away from him, desperate to put space between us.
"No! God, no—it was an accident!" I stammered.
He let out a derisive snort, neither confirming nor denying.
I didn't dare waste another second. This time I was smarter—I used a proper lifting stance, legs braced. I managed to hoist him from the wheelchair and place him carefully on the bed.
The entire process went surprisingly smoothly.
I even had enough strength left to pull the blanket over him.
Ethan Holt lay there watching me, curiosity growing in his eyes.
"You're stronger than you look."
I forced a laugh. "I, uh… got practice helping my mom around the house."
He didn't press further, just closed his eyes as if preparing to sleep.
I exhaled with relief and tiptoed toward the door, eager to escape.
Just as I reached the doorway, his cold voice froze me in my tracks.
"Where do you think you're going?"
I turned slowly, heart pounding. "I… I thought I'd sleep in the guest room."
"Who gave you permission?" He opened his eyes, his gaze dark and penetrating. "You're my wife. Where else would you sleep but here?"
I stood there, stunned.
Was he serious? He actually wanted me to stay?
"Come here." He patted the empty space beside him.
On that massive king-sized bed, he occupied barely a third. The remaining space was both an invitation and a threat.
A deadly trap if I'd ever seen one.
I stood frozen, caught in an impossible dilemma.
[Host, don't chicken out now!]The system cheered frantically in my mind.[Perfect opportunity to get closer! Sharing a bed will definitely lower the Villain Meter faster!]
Like hell I believed that!
The moment I closed my eyes, he'd probably strangle me in my sleep.
Seeing my hesitation, Ethan Holt's patience visibly thinned.
"Eve Sullivan, do I need to spell it out for you?" His voice turned to ice.
I shuddered and forced myself to approach the bed.
I lay down on the far edge of the bed, as far from him as possible, my body rigid as a board.
In the darkness, our breathing seemed unnaturally loud.
His was steady and deep; mine was quick and shallow.
After what felt like hours, just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, he spoke.
"Story."
"What?" I blinked in confusion.
"You promised me a bedtime story," he reminded me coolly.
Only then did I remember, wanting to cry.
God, what a hole I'd dug for myself.
I racked my brain for something—anything—to tell him.
"Well… how about the story of 'Snow White'?"
My voice drifted softly through the darkness. Halfway through, I was fighting to stay awake.
Through my drowsiness, I felt him shift, turning to face me.
The faint scent of his shower gel enveloped me.
I drifted into oblivion.
