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Love the disabled tycoon Novel Cover

Love the disabled tycoon

She thought she was marrying the handsome second young master of New York's most powerful family. Instead, she got his older brother, a cold and wheelchair-bound tycoon who wants nothing to do with her. One wrong move, and her family loses everything. Trapped in a gilded cage with a husband who pushes her away at every turn, Giselle has no choice but to stay. She tells herself this is just survival. But the closer she gets to Reid, the more she realizes something about him doesn't add up. Beneath the ice, there are moments of unexpected warmth. Beneath the darkness, there are secrets he will kill to protect. What if the man who claims he cannot walk is hiding the truth?
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Chapter 2

She lay unconscious in the bathroom all night, with no one checking on her, leaving her to sleep on the cold floor until morning. It was Reid who had caused her to hit her head, and he had watched her faint with his own eyes. What kind of man could be so heartless as to abandon her there without a word of concern?

After Giselle woke up, her eyes searched the room. She crawled up and left the bathroom for the bedroom, but Reid was nowhere to be found. There were no traces of anyone having been on the bed. Giselle's gaze landed on the alarm clock; it was nearly eleven o'clock.

She had been unconscious for a very long time. Opening the wardrobe in the room, she chose a simple set of loungewear, changed, and headed downstairs. The house was designed with European architecture, featuring a spiral staircase and a quartz clock hanging on the wall.

Upon reaching the ground floor, Giselle saw her mother-in-law staring intently at that quartz clock, her expression incredibly cold.

Apprehensively, she stepped forward to greet her. "Mother."

"My, do you still know how to get out of bed. Look at what time it is." Mrs. Theophilus paused to pick up her coffee cup, lightly sipping as she let out a cold laugh. "You aren't exactly a pampered young miss of the Yashashree family anymore. Entering this house certainly seems to have made you quite comfortable and idle."

Her words were harsh. It was a far cry from before the wedding, when Mrs. Theophilus hadn't treated her this way and had even taken her to pick out jewelry. Giselle knew she shouldn't have woken up so late on her first day of marriage, but she had her reasons.

Seeing that Mrs. Theophilus was still resentful, she prepared to explain, but the older woman gave her no such chance.

Mrs. Theophilus spared her a cold glance. "This is my fault for choosing you to enter this family. Before you arrived, I didn't explain the rules of the Theophilus household. I saw that you were filial and obedient, which is why I chose you as a daughter-in-law."

"Reid is your husband, and your duty is to take meticulous care of him. From now on, you must adjust your schedule. You are to wake up half an hour earlier than Reid."

Mrs. Theophilus went through the household regulations one by one for Giselle. Beyond caring for Reid, she had to serve tea to her parents-in-law every morning. Giselle had known a little about general household expectations, but the rules here were excessively strict. They forbade her from leaving the house and even prohibited her from speaking to any man other than her husband.

By the time the lecture concluded, it was already time for lunch, and the wound on her forehead remained untreated.

At the dining table sat the second master of the Theophilus family and Flynn. Reid was not present. Seeing her look of confusion, Mrs. Theophilus explained that Reid usually ate in his room. Giselle poked at the rice in her bowl, keeping her head bowed low.

"I hope you remember clearly that you are Reid's wife, not a servant. I have you looking after him, but if that is all you do, how are you any different from the hired help?" After making her point, Mrs. Theophilus returned to her meal.

Giselle understood the underlying meaning. Reid typically stayed in the inner study of their wedding suite. After finishing her lunch, Mrs. Theophilus urged her upstairs to attend to him.

Giselle opened the door to find a study where Reid sat in his wheelchair with a book resting on his lap. The curtains were drawn shut, making the room as dark as night. Giselle set down a fruit platter. "Would you like some fruit?"

The memory of the previous night was still fresh, so she remained cautious and kept her distance while facing him.

Reid looked up at her. "Bring it here."

Compelled to comply, Giselle hesitantly picked up the platter and walked toward him. Reid was slow to take it, his gaze lingering on her forehead. In the gloom, that stare was impossible to ignore. She reached up to touch the injured spot and spoke softly. "Yesterday you used too much force, so..."

There was no resentment in her voice; she was simply explaining why she was bruised.

"So what?" He spoke without a trace of warmth.

When she saw him looking at her injury, she had briefly thought he might possess a shred of concern for others. Hearing his tone now, she realized she had been overthinking.

"It's nothing." The atmosphere grew awkward. Giselle set the fruit down and tried to change the subject. "The weather is lovely today. Shall I wheel you outside to get some sun?"

As her hand reached for his wheelchair, he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her forward, his hand clamping around her neck. The sensation of pain and the lack of oxygen turned Giselle's face pale. She reached out to pry his hand away, but both of her hands were not as strong as his single grip.

Reid hissed through gritted teeth, "Who gave you the audacity?"

She couldn't understand why he was so angry. She was only trying to play the part of a good wife by caring for him.

It was only when she could no longer breathe that the hand squeezing her throat finally let go. Giselle felt as though she had died and come back to life. Her entire body went limp, and she slumped to the floor. The suffocating pain left the corners of her eyes stinging with bitterness.

"Get out now." Reid sat in his wheelchair, speaking through suppressed rage.

His voice sounded as if it came from hell, sending a chill down her spine. She was still gasping for long breaths, trying to stand up quickly, but her body lacked the strength to support her and flee. A man with such an unpredictable temperament was like a bomb that could explode at any moment. In his fits of rage, he could kill her anytime. Once she managed to steady herself and stand, she immediately hurried out of the study.

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