They arrive at the Chen estate. Julian gets out first on the wheelchair without a glance in her direction
Jasmine follows, amazed she's walking into the house where she was once only allowed in the living room, kitchen and the room where she helps Julian with his body massage.
Gabriel speaks gently,
"Sam will show you to your room."
She nods, grateful. Although not sure who Sam is and an older lady appears in front of her.
Ever since she starts to work for him, she never saw anyone else come into the house aside the doctor and Gabriel.
Julian's world has always been closed off, guarded.
He never let anyone too close—not even his own mother.
Jasmine was only allowed in the house to take care of him since he can't move around freely with his wheelchair and she takes care of every of his physical needs.
Including helping him massage his legs like the doctor recommended to hasten his recover.
She was allowed near him, not because she was special, but because she wasn't obsessed with him like the others and did her job well.
That's what Julian wanted—someone simple, someone safe.
Now, she's his wife. On paper.
And somehow, she sold the world the lie that she loved him.
A love story that happened while she worked and took care of him.
Enough to win over even his lionhearted grandfather.
Her cheeks flush at the memory—how she'd sat in front of the old man and delivered the performance of her life, spilling sweet words and tender declarations she barely believed herself.
But it worked. His grandfather approved the marriage.
Jasmine gets goosebumps, remembering the words the stony-hearted Julian has used for her in front of his grandfather when he profess his 'love' to her as well.
"This is your room," Sam says, bringing her back to the present.
Jasmine steps inside and gasps. It's modest but elegant.
A white-painted room with a queen-sized bed, a makeup table, a sofa, and a grand closet.
She walks to the bed and runs her hand over the silky sheets. So soft. So warm. So unlike the lumpy mattress in the attic.
Jasmine can't believe she is getting her own room after so long.
She sits, letting herself smile for the first time in days.
Sam leaves, and she stays in that quiet moment of wonder—until her stomach growls. Loudly.
Reminding her fiercely that she hasn't fed it yet.
The thought of going to the kitchen to prepare some food crosses her mind. After all, she knows her way there.
Or maybe she should wait until dinner. Julian always eats at six…
Her phone rings.
President Chen flashes on the screen.
She answers cautiously.
"Hello?"
His voice slices through the silence.
"Where are you?"
"In the house," she replies, choosing her words carefully.
"Come here. Immediately."
The call ends before she can say another word.
Her lips press into a thin line. Cold as always. No warmth. Just commands.
She rises from the bed, smoothing down her dress.
This is her new life.
And it's only just beginning.
---
Jasmine stands up quickly, smoothing her dress as she hurries down the hallway. Her heels barely make a sound on the soft carpet, but her heart is pounding.
She knows exactly where he is—his private room, the one no one enters without permission.
She knocks softly before opening the door.
Julian doesn't look up from where he reclines on a leather lounge chair, shirt off, bathed in the warm glow of a standing lamp.
"Didn't you check the time?" His voice is quiet, but edged with irritation.
Right. She's supposed to help him relax before dinner—massage his temples, his shoulders, his legs. It's a routine she's grown used to.
He never lets anyone else do that for him but her.
At first, Jasmine thought he was a pervert but as she continues to do it, she realizes it somehow helps him to sleep well and he never took advantage of her.
"You promised I don't have to work in the house after this" she reminds him gently.
That's the reason why Sam is also here
Julian tilts his head, his dark eyes settling on her.
"Only from cleaning and cooking duties." he tells her.
"This is your duty as my wife."
Her breath catches.
Wife? Her lips part slightly in disbelief. Surprise to hear him easily refer to her that way, even if it's just to make a point.
Jasmine walks toward him, trying to hide the faint blush that creeps across her cheeks as her eyes betray her again—drawn to his sculpted chest, the defined muscles, the smooth lines that seem too perfect to ignore.
She thought she'd be used to this by now. But every time, her body reacts on its own.
She pours a few drops of almond oil into her palm and rubs them together, letting the familiar scent soothe her nerves.
Then she leans forward, placing her fingertips gently against his temples. Her touch is light, practiced, and calming.
It always helps with his insomnia and headaches.
His lashes flutter slightly, then lower.
Julian exhales, the tension in his jaw softening.
Jasmine moves down to his shoulders, her hands kneading gently. His muscles are tight—always are.
But she knows the spots that ease his stress. He doesn't tell her, but she can feel it in the way he breathes deeper under her touch.
A small smile tugs at her lips. These moments are quiet, almost intimate, and she treasures them in secret.
She often wonders what it would be like if their roles were reversed—if he touched her with the same tenderness she gives him.
Now that they are married, she wonder if their relationship include fulfilling such marital duties.
Then his voice cuts through the silence.
"Where's the rest of your luggage?"
She stills for a second.
Did Gabriel tell him something? She wonders quietly.
"I brought everything with me today," she answers carefully.
Julian's brows pull together. He remembers the small nylon bag she carried earlier and frowns.
That's all she has? He's paid her more than enough—monthly wages, bonuses, enough to buy good clothes for herself. And yet… nothing?
He wants to ask what she's been doing with her salary, but swallows the question.
"It's none of my business."
He thought.
"Continue," he says instead, closing his eyes again.
Jasmine presses her fingers down his collarbone smoothly, then back up to avoid going further.
Julian let out the breath he held, and exhaled as she moves her fingers up.
At the beginning while she helped him, he felt nothing, but as time went by, he was unable to control himself and her touch--it stirred things in him that he wasn't ready to face.
So he stops her from going below his shoulders and draws a line.
Now, he's battling his thoughts again.
He tries not to think about her lips—the ones that pressed so briefly against his just an hour ago.
But the memory lingers. Sweet. Soft. Unexpected.
And then—she leans forward and kisses him again.
This time, it's slow, intentional. Her lips brush against his gently before pulling away.
Julian freezes, unable to process what just happened and opens his eyes to realize it's wasn't real--just his thoughts.
Jasmine, innocent of his thought moves to massage his legs next but pauses.
He's wearing long trousers. Normally, he wears shorts so she can work more easily.
"Should I…?" Her voice trails off, unsure if it's appropriate to ask.
Julian opens his eyes and they met with her hesitant stare he wonder what is wrong but then his eyes catches the trousers as well.
He forgot about it and Gabriel also left early for work or he would have reminded him.
Then he hesitates, fighting the temptation in his gut. He doesn't want to lose control.
"Leave it. Go to bed," he says flatly, deciding not to let his lustful desires get the best of him.
"But the doctor said it's important to massage your legs daily," she replies.
She doesn't want it to happen like she is slacking in her duties.
Julian exhales through his nose. Why does she care so much? He knows she wants to see him healed but she--cares a lot.
"Do as you like," he says, eyes shut again.