Chapter 14

The next morning, Delia slowly woke up, still feeling a bit groggy. To her surprise, she was curled up in Curtis's arms. His arm was wrapped loosely around her, breathing calm and steady. Warm sunlight trickled in through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his peaceful sleeping face and throwing his sharp features into gentle relief. Delia's heart gave a tiny jolt. A playful impulse bubbled up from nowhere. She hesitated, then carefully lifted her head, holding her breath. In a flash, she leaned in and brushed a feather-light kiss against his lips. But as she pulled back, a pair of deep, clear eyes met hers. Wait... had Curtis been awake all along? Delia froze. He was watching her quietly, his eyes too clear for someone who had just woken up. It felt like he'd been looking at her like that for a while. In an instant, her cheeks flamed red-bright and hot like she'd just been set on fire. Being caught stealing a kiss left her completely flustered and at a loss for words. "I... uh... I just..." she stammered. Then she practically launched herself out of bed, tossing the blanket aside. "I'm gonna wash up!" Before Curtis could even react, she had already dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He gazed at her fleeing figure, then slowly reached a hand to his lips, fingertips grazing the spot she'd kissed. That soft touch still lingered. His face stayed unreadable. "Delia..." he murmured. A faint blush crept up from his neck to the edges of his ears. ***** Delia let cold water splash on her face for quite a while before the burning sensation on her cheeks cooled down. Once she pulled herself together and came out, she found Curtis already sitting up, resting against the headboard. "Hey, babe, let me help you get up to wash up," she offered, still sounding a little shy. "I've got it," Curtis replied. His eyes flicked briefly to her outstretched hand, pausing just a moment too long. That flicker-a mix of hesitation and resistance-didn't escape Delia's notice. Her chest tightened. He was still struggling with the self-consciousness his injury had left him. And she knew, deep down, it was probably her past harsh words that made it worse. Which only made her more determined to be there for him now. Before he could refuse again, she gently and firmly took his arm. "It's fine. Let me help you." With her steady support, Curtis got into his wheelchair, and she wheeled him to the bathroom. She prepared his toothbrush and laid out warm water, then stepped back quietly to give him space. She didn't hover or take over-just stayed nearby in case he needed anything. Her measured, thoughtful care helped ease the tension in Curtis's shoulders a bit. Then came a soft knock at the bedroom door. Followed by Edith's polite voice, "Sir, someone from the Stockton estate is here. Says it's important and they wish to speak with you." Curtis paused mid-movement, a barely noticeable crease forming between his brows. Visits from the old house rarely meant anything good-usually blame, or demands out of nowhere. Back then, Delia wouldn't just stand by doing nothing. She used to mock him, sometimes even make things worse. Hearing that, Delia's stomach dropped. Old memories came flooding back, all unpleasant. She glanced at Curtis and saw the subtle storm brewing in his eyes. Clearly, he didn't want to deal with this right now. A thought popped into her head. "Tell them to wait downstairs," Delia called out toward the door. Then, turning to Curtis, she softened her voice. "You go wash up, I'll handle the people downstairs." Curtis shot her a surprised look. Delia wanted to face the Stockton family for him? Wasn't she the one who usually kept her distance from this kind of mess, even secretly wishing the family would make things hard for him? Seeing the confusion in his eyes, Delia's guilt deepened. But she forced a small smile. "I'm your wife, remember? Isn't that part of the job?" "Babe, don't worry. They're in our house, not like they can cause real trouble." There wasn't a trace of hesitation in her steady gaze. Curtis stayed silent a beat, then finally gave a slight nod. "Just be careful." With his okay, Delia took a deep breath and straightened herself up. She opened the door and said to Edith, who was waiting outside, "Edith, take me to them." Edith looked slightly stunned for a second, but quickly regained her composure and replied politely, "Of course, ma'am. This way please." Down in the living room, a few people sat with visible arrogance etched on their faces. As soon as they saw it was only Delia coming down, the air shifted-clearly displeased. The middle-aged man in front, Curtis's father, Craig Stockton, let out a cold snort and said with disdain, "Just you? Where's Curtis? Thinks he's too important to greet his own father now?" Delia actually chuckled. "Wow, this is something... Barging into someone else's house uninvited, yelling like you own the place. And now you wanna micromanage when my husband decides to come say hi?" The moment her words dropped, the room stiffened. "Delia!" Craig's face darkened, "That's your tone? Who gave you the nerve to talk to me like that? Edith, go get Curtis right now, make him see what kind of woman he married!" Watching him lose it over one sentence, Delia just smiled calmly. "Sir, I think you're barking up the wrong tree." Her tone was lazy but sharp. "Calling your daughter-in-law rude without a second thought-don't you think that says more about your own manners?" Delia hadn't cared much about Curtis in her previous life, but even then, she knew Craig never saw him as worthy. He only doted on Matthew, his son with Vanessa Granger. Seeing that kind of blatant favoritism now, she couldn't help but feel angry for Curtis. "You... You've completely lost your mind!" Craig choked on his fury, his face turning red from blue as he lashed out. "Dad, why waste words on her?" Matthew snapped from beside him. He glared at Delia with that snake-like stare, oozing provocation. Next to him, Vanessa added sharply, "Craig, don't bother arguing with her, just make Curtis come down." "This rude girl-she..." Craig fumed, but then a deep, calm voice cut him off. "No need to call for me. I'm here." Curtis slowly appeared at the staircase. He'd changed into a crisp shirt, his expression even colder than usual. He wheeled himself over to Delia's side, stopping just slightly ahead of her. The second Craig saw him, he immediately redirected his anger. "Curtis, good timing. Tell me straight-are you behind what's happening with Matthew?!" Curtis's brows drew together slightly, while Delia, standing next to him, felt a sharp flicker of confusion. Matthew was getting targeted? It reminded her of the recent attempt on Curtis's life. And just like that, everything clicked into place. So that's what's really going on.