The Supreme Power Behind a Wheelchair

Chapter 1: Fragments Between Us

The soft squeak of wheels echoed as Damien Harlow rolled into the study. His wheelchair was simple, a stark contrast to the opulence that defined the Stratton family. Yet his presence cut through the silence like a knife.

In the corner of the room, Celeste Stratton sat upright in an armchair. Her dark brown eyes stared blankly out the large window overlooking the bustling cityscape of Lunaris. A porcelain teacup rested in her hands, but her mind was clearly miles away.

Damien paused at the doorway, observing his wife lost in her thoughts. The sharp lines of her face and the slight lift of her chin spoke of a woman accustomed to control. Yet there was a subtle weariness she couldn’t quite hide, even behind her cold and composed exterior.

Before Damien could say a word, Celeste broke the silence. Her voice was sharp and cutting, like shards of broken glass.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” she asked without turning. Her tone was flat, but each word dripped with anger she’d been holding back for far too long.

Damien bit his lower lip. For a moment, he hesitated but eventually replied in a voice that tried to sound confident.

“I won’t be gone long. There’s something I need to take care of, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

What might have sounded reassuring to an outsider only poured gasoline on the fire burning inside Celeste. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing.

“Back as soon as you can?” she repeated, her tone dripping with mockery. A bitter, wounded laugh escaped her lips. “You always say that, Damien. But you disappear for days, vanish without a word. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Damien let out a long sigh, trying to diffuse the tension. “Celeste, I know this is hard, but trust me. I’m doing this for us.”

That was the final straw. Celeste shot up from her seat, the motion abrupt and fiery. She lifted the teacup in her hand and hurled it at Damien. The cup sailed through the air, smashing against the wheel of his chair with a loud crack. The remaining tea splattered across the floor, leaving dark stains on the rug.

Damien didn’t flinch. He stayed still, even as the cup narrowly missed his feet. His gray eyes locked onto hers, steady despite the storm brewing in the room. For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, heavy and unrelenting.

“You can’t keep doing this, Damien,” Celeste’s voice trembled, a mix of raw emotion and exhaustion. “Three years. For three years, you’ve been disappearing every month. Thousands of dollars vanish without explanation. Do you think I don’t notice?”

A part of her wondered when everything had gone so wrong. Three years ago, she was a different person—a young, ambitious woman with sharp wit and an insatiable drive for success. When she outpaced her brother Adrian in the race to establish herself in the business world, she thought her triumph would change the family dynamics. But it didn’t.

Her grandmother, Margaret Stratton, had always favored Adrian. To Margaret, Adrian was the true heir of Stratton Enterprises, while Celeste was merely a talented but ultimately lesser female. Marrying Damien Harlow, a war-wounded man left paralyzed after combat, felt more like a punishment than a match.

At first, Celeste refused. But her grandmother manipulated the situation, framing the marriage as a moral duty she couldn’t escape. What hurt more was her grandfather Frederick, usually her protector, supporting the idea. Before he passed away, Frederick had said something strange: “Damien will be your fortune someday.”

Celeste never understood what he meant. After the wedding, her life spiraled into an endless cycle of humiliation. The Stratton family treated her like a pawn, and society labeled her a woman forced to marry a cripple for financial gain. Damien never defended her. He remained silent, absorbing the ridicule without protest.

But the one thing Celeste couldn’t forgive was his habit of disappearing. Each time he left, she was left to fend off her family’s attacks alone, alongside unexplained expenses that drained her finances.

Damien finally spoke, breaking her thoughts.

“I know it’s been hard, Celeste. I know I’ve never been the husband you wanted, but—”

“But what?” Celeste snapped, cutting him off. “Do you think you can just vanish every month without giving me a single explanation? Do you think I don’t deserve to know where all that money is going?”

Damien fell silent. His gray eyes, usually sharp, looked clouded, as though he carried a burden he couldn’t share. His lips moved, but no words came out. Instead, he lowered his gaze, his hands gripping the arms of his wheelchair tightly.

If only you knew what I was doing, you wouldn’t be this angry, Damien thought. In fact, it might be the opposite—you would beg me to fulfill your every desire with my limitless network. And every penny you’ve spent on me, I’d repay it many times over to make you happy. But not now. Not yet! Because I can’t take any risks while I’m still not fully recovered.

“Look at me, Damien,” Celeste demanded. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was firm. “If you can’t give me answers, I don’t know what’s left of this marriage. I’m exhausted.”

Damien slowly lifted his head. His face was calm, but there was something in his eyes—a feeling hard to define, like a storm brewing beneath a calm surface.

“I can’t explain right now,” he finally said. “But I will tell you, Celeste. I just need time.”

Celeste let out a bitter laugh. “Time? Time for what? To keep playing the role of a phantom husband who’s only there when it suits you?” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “I can’t live like this anymore, Damien. You have to choose: explain everything or let’s just end this. Thousands of dollars every month isn’t a small amount, especially given my financial situation right now. And you…”

Damien fell silent for a long moment. He lowered his head, his gaze fixed on his paralyzed legs—a constant reminder of the battle that had changed his life.

“I won’t let you go, Celeste,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with determination. “I may be broken, unable to give much right now, but I won’t give up on our marriage.”

Celeste turned away. There was something in his tone that made her chest tighten, but she refused to show it. She squared her shoulders and faced him again. For a moment, her gaze flickered to his paralyzed legs. Pity threatened to creep in, but she pushed it away.

“Prove it, Damien,” she said coldly. “Or leave my life for good. And you can start proving it by answering my questions, dammit! What have you been spending all that money on? Where the hell do you disappear to every month for years? Or…” Her voice faltered, tinged with bitterness. “Is it true, what people out there say about you?”

Her tone was laced with despair and anger. She exploded, consumed by frustration and exhaustion. All she wanted was an answer, but Damien still couldn’t give her one. His silence was enough to confirm what she had long feared—that their marriage was beyond saving.

“Fine,” she said, her voice ice-cold. “I’ll take your silence as agreement. We’re done.”

With that, she walked out of the room, leaving Damien sitting motionless in his wheelchair. His eyes followed her as she strode confidently to the door. He let out a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to face the storm looming on the horizon.