Chapter 5

Matthew sat on the floor, soaked and fuming.

Isabella's face lit up with a smug smile. Serves him right for scaring her; he deserved a little payback.

She bent down to help him up.

But as she reached out, she slipped and fell right into Matthew's lap.

Matthew, who had been trying to sit up, was knocked back down. His brow furrowed in pain, veins bulging at his temples as he gritted his teeth and let out a groan.

Isabella looked up and saw his fierce yet striking face, his eyes glaring daggers at her.

Oh no, she had gone too far.

Panicking, she tried to stand, but her feet slipped again, and she fell onto Matthew once more. This time, she managed to brace herself with her hands.

But her hands landed in the wrong place.

Isabella's fingers instinctively clenched, grabbing his crotch. She looked at Matthew, trembling.

He clenched his jaw, looking like he was about to say something.

"Sorry, sorry!" Isabella quickly pulled her hand back as if she had touched a hot stove. She knelt and carefully wiped the floor with a large towel.

Matthew's anger burned behind her, his eyes fixed on her. But as he watched, his attention shifted to her wet T-shirt.

The T-shirt, already soft, clung to Isabella's body when wet, outlining her curves as she moved. Her swaying hips were an unintentional temptation.

He looked away, his anger inexplicably fading.

Unaware, Isabella finished drying the floor and turned to face Matthew. She slipped her hands under his arms and, using all her strength, lifted him into his wheelchair, almost forcing his face into her chest.

A faint scent surrounded Matthew, making his throat tighten and his body heat up.

Isabella, panting from the effort, adjusted his legs and muttered, "Let's just wash you in the wheelchair today. I'm exhausted. I'll start working out from now on."

She babbled on, her eyes drifting to Matthew's crotch. Was it her imagination, or did it look bigger?

Could he still have kids? Should she make the first move?

Isabella's thoughts ran wild before she pulled herself back and started undressing Matthew.

Matthew grabbed her wrist, frowning.

Isabella pouted, "Mrs. Moore told me to give you a bath."

He pressed his lips together, wanting to say something but unable to without his phone. He pointed to the showerhead.

Isabella obediently handed it to him.

Matthew released her wrist and made a circular motion with his finger.

Isabella, surprisingly understanding, turned around.

The sound of water filled the room, occasionally splashing her back. The heat would fade, leaving a faint coolness. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

Ten minutes later, the water stopped.

Isabella didn't dare move. "Do you need clothes?" she asked instinctively.

Realizing Matthew couldn't hear her, she turned and saw him looking at the shelf where the towels were supposed to be. The towels were now wet and piled in the corner.

Sensing his growing anger, Isabella dashed out, rummaged through the cabinets, and found a bathrobe. She squinted and handed it to him.

Matthew put it on, making sure to cover himself properly.

Isabella pushed him out, then quickly typed on her phone: [Don't tell Mrs. Moore.]

She looked at Matthew with pleading eyes.

He glanced at the message and looked away.

Isabella grew more anxious, typing quickly: [It's my first time. I'll get better, I promise.]

Matthew remained unmoved, wheeling himself toward the bed.

Isabella stopped his wheelchair, typing: [Please be generous...]

Matthew pointed to his legs, indicating he needed help.

Isabella, seemingly a natural at assisting him, immediately started massaging his legs.

"Isabella, are you done?" Ava's voice suddenly called out.

Isabella's heart skipped a beat. She looked at Matthew, then remembered he couldn't hear. She pretended not to hear either and pushed Matthew back into the bathroom for authenticity.

Matthew frowned, then smirked slightly, reaching for the bell by the handrail.

The bell rang sharply, like a death sentence.

Ava opened the door the next second, seeing Matthew in a bathrobe and a flushed Isabella. She looked pleased. "Isabella, you did well."

Isabella forced a smile, more like a grimace.

Matthew rolled up his sleeve, revealing a bruise.

Ava's expression changed, rushing over. "What happened to your hand?"

Isabella tried to intervene, but it was too late. Matthew started signing, and the more he signed, the darker Ava's face grew, and the more doomed Isabella felt.

When he finished, Ava turned to Isabella and said, "Isabella, this isn't a joke."

Isabella felt wronged but also guilty. She nodded. "I'll do better."

She secretly pinched Matthew's arm behind her back.

Matthew winced but stayed silent.

Ava brought ointment and fussed over Matthew before leaving.

Isabella applied the ointment, muttering, "Childish, petty, untrustworthy..."

Matthew suddenly grabbed her chin, looking down at her with a warning in his eyes.

Infuriated, Isabella stood up, only to be pulled back down, landing on Matthew's lap.

He looked up at her, his fingers gently stroking her hand, as if to soothe her. He took his phone and typed.

Matthew: [My mom isn't really mad.]

Matthew: [Wash up and sleep.]

Isabella, exhausted, complied. Matthew's warm lap made her uneasy. She washed up and headed for the couch.

"Come here." The deep male voice startled Isabella. She sat up straight, shocked to see Matthew.

He leaned against the headboard, pointing to his phone. "Come here."

It was an AI voice.

Isabella waved it off, pretending not to hear.

Matthew narrowed his eyes, smoothly transferring himself to his wheelchair. In a flash, he was in front of her, scooping her into his arms and wheeling her to the bed.

He played another message: [My mom will check.]

Isabella had no choice but to comply.

She tried to move to the other side, but in a blink, Matthew was back at the headboard.

Isabella looked at the wheelchair, then at Matthew. How could he move so quickly?

Matthew remained silent, letting her stare.

What she thought would be a long night turned out to be peaceful. As she closed her eyes, sleep overtook her.

Matthew's presence gave her a sense of familiarity and warmth, helping her forget her trauma.

She unconsciously moved closer to him.

The next morning.

Isabella woke up refreshed, stretching and hugging her pillow. She hadn't slept this well in ages.

As she snuggled, she realized something was off. She squinted and saw a well-defined chest.

"Are you awake?" A husky male voice asked, sounding particularly enticing.