The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 131: The Price of Indulgent Nights
When Julian Sterling drifted back into consciousness, the world felt like it was composed of nothing but lead and shadows. He lay there, pinned to the mattress by an overwhelming lethargy that seemed to seep into his very marrow. His body was a map of dull aches and sharp reminders of the night before, leaving him so utterly drained that the mere thought of shifting his weight felt like an insurmountable task. The room was shrouded in a heavy, artificial night. The thick velvet curtains were drawn so tightly that not a single stray beam of sunlight from Saint Lawrence City could find its way inside to disturb his weary eyes.
Time had lost all meaning. He had no way of knowing if the world outside was bathed in the golden hues of morning or the cool blues of twilight. In those first few moments of waking, his mind was a hazy whirlpool of sensations, momentarily convinced that he had only just emerged from that feverish, frenzied storm of passion. It took a significant effort of will to piece together the fragmented reality of his situation.
Ah, right, he thought, a slow realization dawning on him. I’ve already slept through two cycles. This is the second time I’ve opened my eyes.
The memories began to flicker back: the exhaustion of the first wake-up, the heated, emotionally charged confrontation with Ethan Caldwell, and the raw, vulnerable outpouring of feelings that had followed. They had bared everything to each other, their fears, their possessiveness, and a depth of devotion that was as terrifying as it was intoxicating. Yet, despite the emotional resolution, his physical body was currently paying a steep price for that reconciliation.
Even with the benefit of two long periods of rest, Julian felt as though his very skeletal structure had been dismantled and haphazardly put back together. Every joint protested with a stiff ache, particularly in his lower back and... that one specific area, which still felt alarmingly tender and swollen.
"That absolute bastard." Julian muttered internally, a mixture of exasperation and lingering heat flushing through him.
He attempted to lift his hand, his intention simply to rub his throbbing lower back, but the movement felt like trying to hoist an anchor. His arms were heavy, burdened by the phantom weight of the restraints and the memory of having to support his own trembling body against the cold surface of the mirror for far too long. The sheer physical toll of Ethan’s relentless intensity was staggering.
As he lay there in a state of semi-paralysis, Julian found himself spiraling into a fit of mental pique. This time, however, the anger lacked the sharp edge of wounded pride or the bitter sting of feeling devalued. The air had been cleared. Ethan had finally dropped the cold facade and spoken to him with the raw honesty he had craved. If the man hadn’t finally opened up, Julian feared their relationship would have fractured beyond repair.
But that didn’t change the fact that he was currently a "dried fish" on the bed, unable to move a muscle while his "husband" was nowhere to be found.
He assumed Ethan had headed to the headquarters of the Caldwell Empire. Even a man of his immense power and influence couldn’t simply abandon his responsibilities indefinitely. The gears of such a massive corporate machine required the steady hand of its ruler, and there were undoubtedly a thousand crises and decisions that couldn’t be resolved through a mere laptop screen. Yet, a small, irrational part of Julian felt a pang of abandonment. He had naively hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would find the man still lingering by his side, perhaps watching him with that intense, predatory gaze that had softened ever so slightly during their talk.
A wave of self-pity washed over him. While Ethan was out there, impeccably dressed and commanding the business world, Julian was relegated to the status of a functional invalid. He felt so pathetic that he suspected even a trip to the bathroom would require him to crawl like a wounded animal.
As he lay on his back, his mind a chaotic blend of erotic flashbacks and current physical misery, the silence of the room was shattered by a sharp, persistent ringing. It was the default ringtone of his phone, sounding jarringly loud and intrusive in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom.
Julian winced, the sound vibrating through his skull. He tried to ignore it, burying his face deeper into the plush pillows, hoping the caller would simply give up. But the caller was relentless. The ringing would stop for a few heartbeats, only to resume with a stubborn, irritating persistence that demanded attention.
Finally, driven by a flicker of annoyance, Julian summoned his remaining strength to lurch toward the nightstand. His fingers fumbled blindly in the dark before finally closing around the device.
"Hello..." his voice came out as a ghost of its former self. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶
That single act of answering felt like it had drained half of his life force. He slumped back onto the mattress, the phone pressed weakly to his ear. As the screen lit up his pale face, he squinted at the name displayed: Lucas Hill.
The name hit him like a bucket of cold water. Since the explosive conflict with Aaron Sterling over the land acquisition, Julian had completely neglected the intricate plans he had set in motion with Lucas. A wave of guilt, heavy and cold, settled in his chest.
Before he had transmigrated, he was a man of discipline and meticulous detail. No matter how chaotic his life became, he always maintained absolute control over his projects, overseeing every micro-move and ensuring that every cog in the machine turned exactly as he intended. He was a perfectionist who thrived on control.
But here, in this world, something had shifted. This venture with Lucas was supposed to be his safety net, his path to true independence and financial freedom from the Sterling Group and the Caldwell shadow. Yet, he had essentially handed the reins to Lucas and walked away. He trusted Lucas, yes, but the real reason for his negligence was much more personal.
