Celia's eyes welled with tears as she whispered softly, tenderly, "Husband…"
"You sound so sweet." Nathaniel kissed her again as a reward—but clearly, it wasn't enough. He gazed into her eyes and asked, "Who's your husband?"
Celia hesitated, cheeks burning, and then bit out the words from her rosy lips, "Nathaniel Fu is my husband…"
The next morning.
Celia couldn't even lift her body from the bed. She was stirred awake by the gentle chime of a phone ringing beside her.
Her eyes snapped open. What time is it now?
No—she was supposed to be up by six. She could only play the role of "Mrs. Fu" at night. When the sun came up, she had to disappear.
But now… she was still curled up in Nathaniel's arms.
They had gone to bed far too late, and he hadn't gotten up either.
Celia turned around and reached for the phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up with a name—Sylvia.
Sylvia was calling.
Before she could grab it, a firm arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back into his chest.
Still half-asleep, Nathaniel murmured against her hair, "Sleep a little longer."
But… it was Sylvia. The real "Mrs. Fu."
Celia lay stiffly in his embrace, the scenes from the night before replaying vividly in her mind—her breathy voice, her flushed cheeks, her whispered words echoing, Husband… husband… Nathaniel Fu is my husband…
It was humiliating.
Those words weren't hers to say. He didn't belong to her. She had just been a substitute—and now she'd blurred the lines and gotten lost in the role.
If Nathaniel ever found out who she really was… that she was just a maid pretending to be Sylvia… what would he think?
And now Sylvia's name on the screen was like a silent warning: Celia, your time's up. The real one is calling.
"I need to answer that," she whispered.
"No," Nathaniel said firmly. "Let it ring. Sleep."
His arms tightened possessively around her, as if declaring that the person calling didn't matter.
Celia hesitated. The warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength of his heartbeat—he made her feel safe, drowsy. Her eyelids fluttered shut again.
And just like that, she drifted back into sleep.
She didn't know how much time passed, but she was awoken by the tickle of breath against her ear and a deep, velvety voice.
"Lazy girl, time to get up."
Celia blinked her eyes open to find Nathaniel already up. He was dressed sharply again in a crisp white shirt and tailored black slacks, sitting at the edge of the bed. His fingers reached down to pinch her nose lightly.
She sat up with a start. It was nearly ten o'clock.
Ten o'clock?!
She was still in his bed—still playing the role of Mrs. Fu.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel looked perfectly refreshed, the very picture of composure. All traces of last night's passion had vanished from his face and posture. He was once again the cold, elegant CEO of the Fu Group—untouched, untouchable.
"Go wash up," he said casually. "It's ten. Aren't you hungry?"
"Oh… okay."
Celia scrambled out of bed and slipped into the bathroom. Under the running water, she finally returned Sylvia's call.
Her voice exploded through the speaker the moment the line connected. "Celia, why the hell are you just calling me back now?! What are you doing with my husband?!"
Celia answered coolly, "Sleeping. Sleeping with your husband."
"You—!"
"Didn't you tell me to do that? Don't act surprised now."
"…"
There was a pause on the line. Then Sylvia spoke again, her tone venomous but smiling through her teeth.
"Celia, I called to let you know something officially. Your job as my stand-in—is over. I don't need you anymore."