The Supreme Power Behind a Wheelchair

Chapter 3: Rising from Ruin

The room was eerily quiet, as if soaking up all the tension in the air. Damien tried to stand, reaching out to hug a distraught Celeste. For a fleeting moment, Celeste thought a miracle had entered their lives—but then Damien collapsed from his wheelchair onto the floor with a thud that was both painful and humiliating.

Lying there, Damien didn’t move. Pain coursed through his body, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. Celeste stood a few steps away, her expression unreadable—a mix of anger, despair, and emotional exhaustion.

“Damien,” Celeste finally broke the silence, her voice cold and laced with bitterness. “What exactly are you trying to prove? You can’t even stand on your own, yet here you are, still trying. Do you seriously think I’ll keep waiting for you to fight a losing battle?”

Damien looked up, meeting her sharp gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Celeste sighed deeply, stepping closer with an envelope in hand. She’d just retrieved it from the desk drawer moments earlier, sitting alone before Damien had entered. She’d already made up her mind then, but what she’d just witnessed left no room for doubt.

“Here,” she said, dropping the envelope onto the floor in front of him. “One million dollars. That’s all that’s left after my grandmother and Adrian took everything else from me. Think of it as a parting gift.”

Damien stared at the envelope on the floor, his throat dry. “Celeste…” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t need your money. I just need you to trust me… give me time.”

“Three years, Damien. Isn’t that enough time?” Celeste snapped bitterly. “I can’t keep waiting for someone who can’t even take care of himself, let alone me. My family has always called you weak, a useless burden. And honestly? Maybe they’re right.”

Her words cut deep, like a knife to Damien’s heart. But he wasn’t angry—he couldn’t be—because he knew how much Celeste had endured in the past three years. Her family, society, even himself, had made her feel trapped in an endless cycle of pain.

“Please…” Damien tried to reach for her hand, but his body betrayed him. He pushed himself, his arms trembling with the effort to shift into a better position, but his legs refused to cooperate.

Celeste looked away, unwilling to witness his struggle. She didn’t want pity to weaken her resolve. Her decision this time was final.

“Don’t push yourself, Damien. You’re only humiliating yourself more.”

But Damien didn’t stop. He kept trying, gripping the wheels of his chair with one hand while pressing the floor with the other. A strange warmth began to spread through his legs—something he hadn’t felt in years.

“I just need time,” he said again, his voice filled with determination despite his frail appearance.

Celeste shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Time?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I’ve run out of time, Damien. Five years building my company from the ground up, only to have my grandmother strip it all away and hand it to Adrian. Three years with you, hoping for something more from a man forced to marry me because of a will. What more do you want from me?”

Damien lowered his head, unable to argue. She was right. But beneath his weakness, something stirred within him—a drive he had buried deep under guilt and silence.

“I want you to believe in me one more time,” he said quietly but firmly. “Just give me one day, Celeste. One day. If I fail, I won’t ask for anything else.”

Celeste hesitated, frowning as if weighing his request. But deep down, she knew her decision was already made. She quickly wiped away her tears, determined to maintain her composure.

“I can’t do this anymore, Damien,” she finally said. “Staying with you will only drag us both down further in front of my family. And I don’t have the strength to keep fighting them. So… let me go. Let’s end this here.”

Damien felt something inside him break at her words. But he didn’t let it show. He just stared at her, memorizing every detail of the woman he loved, as if it were the last time they’d ever meet.

Celeste turned and walked out of the room without looking back. Her steps were heavy, but she knew this was what had to be done. Damien, still lying on the floor, refused to give up. With a newfound resolve, he kept trying to stand.

His body felt stiff, but something was different this time. The warmth in his legs grew stronger, spreading through him. Gripping his wheelchair tightly, he slowly pulled himself up.

“I won’t give up,” he muttered to himself. “Not now. Especially after I found out that Celeste is the girl I’ve been looking for and trying to protect!”

He pushed through the pain, sweat dripping down his face. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. Memories of battles he’d fought, sacrifices he’d made, became his source of strength.

Finally, with one last push, Damien stood. He wavered, unsteady, but his legs held him up for the first time in three years.

At that moment, the door burst open. Eleanor Stratton, Celeste’s mother, stormed in with a face full of rage.

“What are you doing, Damien?” she demanded, her voice as sharp as a blade. “Celeste is crying because of you. Again! Can’t you stop disappointing her?”

Eleanor froze mid-sentence as her eyes landed on something unusual. Damien was standing—weak and shaky, but standing nonetheless. For a brief moment, he radiated an aura of strength, like a king reclaiming his throne. But the moment passed quickly, and Damien collapsed back into his wheelchair, exhausted.

Eleanor caught her breath, stunned by what she’d just witnessed. Then, as Damien slumped back down, her smirk returned. It was a fluke, she thought. Nothing more. He’s still the same useless, crippled son-in-law.

“I won’t let Celeste down again,” Damien said in a low but firm voice. “From now on, I’ll prove that I’m her husband—not just with words, but with actions.”

Eleanor didn’t know how to respond. She stood there, staring at Damien with a mix of surprise and disbelief. For a moment, something in her hesitated.

Damien, on the other hand, knew this was just the beginning. But this time, he wouldn’t stop until he reclaimed everything he’d lost—and most importantly, won back the heart of the woman he loved.

"This bastard! How can he stand after three years? If this keeps up, my daughter will never have a chance to be free from him. He should’ve stayed crippled forever so Celeste could divorce him and start a new life with someone richer and more reliable! Should I just kill him now before Celeste finds out?" Eleanor muttered in her head.

"What did you say, Eleanor? I will never divorce Celeste, even if you have to kill me!" Damien retorted firmly.

But Damien’s words only left Eleanor in shock. "How do you know what I was thinking?"

The woman turned pale as if she’d just seen a ghost. Without realizing it, she started running away from Damien.

What? Damien thought. She clearly said she wanted to kill me, didn’t she? Or... did she not? Wait… I’m pretty sure she didn’t say it out loud. Was I… was I listening to her thoughts?

Flooded with terrifying realization, Damien grew anxious and hurried off to figure out what was happening to him. Could he really read someone’s mind?