Chapter 4: Is That His Wife?

It was Stefan, struggling to stand from his wheelchair and walk. Griffin stood off to the side, carefully watching so he would know when it was his cue to step in and assist him. Dorothy stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed on him. She could see how his closed eyes trembled with effort, sweat dripping down his face, veins bulging in his neck as he fought to stand but failed, collapsing back into his chair.

Griffin instinctively moved to help him, but Stefan stopped him with a raised hand, silently commanding him to stay back. He tried again, his legs trembling violently under his weight. The pain was evident, but he remained silent. Just as he nearly managed to stand upright without support, he fell once more.

Griffin tensed, his legs twitching to move, but again, Stefan stopped him. Griffin gulped, his lifeless eyes misting, though his face remained stoic.

Dorothy watched, her heart heavy. She felt a wetness on her cheeks—it was tears. Why was she crying? Stefan suddenly turned toward the slightly open door, his gaze locking onto hers. Panic flooded her as she tried to move, but her legs were frozen. Her heart raced as his expression shifted, the sadness in his eyes vanishing in an instant, replaced by the cold, dark look he always wore.

Griffin noticed her and immediately rushed to the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply, his tone laced with anger.

“I was looking for the...” Dorothy began, but she wasn’t even halfway through before Griffin slammed the door in her face.

She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart. She swore she’d nearly died on the spot.

Without hesitation, Dorothy left the room, taking the lift to the second floor. She finally found her room, rushed inside, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and teary. She couldn’t stop crying.

Stefan was trying so hard to get better, but it was so difficult for him. The thought of being in such pain and unable to cry out was unbearable.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and climbed into bed. “He looked so mad at me. I need to apologize when he gets back,” she murmured to herself. She waited for hours, but he never came. Sleep eventually claimed her.

The next morning, Dorothy woke slowly as the bright sun kissed her face. She instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed, but it was empty. Had Stefan not come back last night? Did he overwork himself like this every day? The thought plagued her.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. Stefan rolled his wheelchair out, and Dorothy’s eyes widened in surprise. She nearly screamed but managed to hold it in. What time had he arrived? How had he gotten into the bathroom? And where was Griffin? She glanced around, but the room was empty.

Stefan was wearing only a towel, and Dorothy couldn’t help but notice his defined abs and toned muscles. She quickly turned away, flustered.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, clearing her throat awkwardly. “I waited for you last night because I wanted to apologize. I overstepped. I promise I won’t use the lift again.”

She apologized but her words hung in the air, unanswered. Stefan didn’t look at her, nor did he give any indication he’d heard her.

“Do you need help with your clothes?” Dorothy asked, standing up. She opened his wardrobe, her eyes scanning the contents. Only now did she realize the clothes were all men’s suits. Perhaps she’d been too hungry to notice before.

“What color suit do you want to wear to work today? Navy blue, gray, or black?” she asked. Again, there was no response.

“Alright, how about this?” She demonstrated with her fingers as she explained. “One finger for the navy blue suit, two fingers for the gray suit, and three fingers for the black suit.”

Stefan remained silent for a few moments, and Dorothy sighed, ready to give up. Then, he slowly raised two fingers.

Her face lit up with a wide smile. “The gray suit it is! I knew you had great taste. This will look perfect for a Tuesday morning,” she said, pulling the suit out of the wardrobe.

A knock at the door interrupted her.

“Who is it, please?” Dorothy called out.

“It’s Griffin. May I come in?”

“Yes, sure,” she replied. Griffin stepped inside.

“Good morning, young mistress. Good morning, Mr. Stefan,” he greeted, his eyes widening when he saw Dorothy holding one of Stefan’s suits.

“Oh, I’m not trying to wear it this time,” Dorothy clarified quickly, holding the suit out to Griffin. “He chose it himself.”

Griffin glanced at Stefan, who didn’t look upset, and nodded. He helped Stefan dress while Dorothy stepped aside to give them space. Once Stefan was ready, Dorothy grabbed her bathrobe and headed for the bathroom.

“Young mistress,” Griffin called, “Mr. Stefan wishes for you to accompany him to the company today. Please join him for breakfast so we can leave soon.”

Dorothy turned to Stefan, but he didn’t spare her a glance as Griffin wheeled him out of the room.

After showering, Dorothy returned to her closet. She chose a fitted blue dress, paired it with black heels, and tied her hair into a simple bun—the only style she knew. She wasn’t skilled with makeup, so she left her face bare.

Dorothy still looked lovely, but Agnes and Clarissa had gaslit her into thinking she wasn’t. If only she knew Clarissa envied her natural beauty.

She struggled slightly with her steps as she climbed the stairs to the dining room. When she reached it, she found Stefan slowly eating a piece of bread, Griffin standing silently behind him.

“Griffin, would you like to join us?” Dorothy asked politely.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Griffin replied flatly.

“Oh,” she murmured, frowning. It didn’t seem fair that Griffin, who had been with Stefan for so long, couldn’t eat at the same table.

Stefan ate so little—a single slice of bread and a medium cup of milk tea. Once done, he glanced at Griffin.

“Young mistress, we will meet you at the car,” Griffin said after wheeling Stefan away.

Dorothy finished her breakfast and went to join them. The car they used this time had an extra back seat, where she sat while Stefan sat up front and Griffin drove.

Within thirty minutes, they arrived at the Everest Stock Exchange parking lot. Griffin helped Stefan into his wheelchair while Dorothy got out on her own.

As they entered the building, the glass doors automatically slid open. Dorothy couldn’t help but admire the towering skyscraper and the interior’s fresh sunflower scent. Employees were busy at their desks, some walking around with walkie-talkies in hand.

“Good morning, Mr. Stefan,” the employees greeted politely. But their curiosity was evident as they whispered amongst themselves.

“Who is that woman with him?”

“Is that his wife?”