"Sir, you should get some rest. I'll head back to the base, pick you up tomorrow morning," Mr. Foster said before heading out of Ethan's bedroom.
Since Celeste wasn't around and Ethan had to pretend he couldn't walk, he needed help before bed. Until Celeste was released and came home, Mr. Foster had been showing up morning and night to keep up appearances.
After Foster left, a housekeeper knocked, came in with a cup of tea, placed it on the nightstand, and slipped out quietly. Ethan's bad temper had always made the staff keep their distance. The room fell silent.
It was late-he checked the clock on the wall. 1:30 a.m.
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a pink pillow next to him. The bedsheet and pillow faintly carried her scent-a soft jasmine that clung to her ski
