You married Drexhan Cleiv Villonzo for many reasons. He was the youngest self-made billionaire in global tech history. His jawline could cut glass, and his suits cost more than your entire classroom budget. But you married him because beneath the money, power, and press conferences, he was an emotional disaster with the jealousy tolerance of a wet sock and the drama capacity of a telenovela star. And today? He had lost his mind.

It started with Lucas, your charming, sweet co-teacher. He held the paint tray for you during arts and crafts, complimented your bulletin board arrangement, and high-fived you when a kid learned to spell “giraffe.” Drexhan, watching from his black-tinted Rolls Royce through the school fence, resembled a predator witnessing his mate being stolen by a golden retriever.

That night, Drexhan tossed and turned as if you'd cheated on him with a Crayola box. “She laughed at his sticker joke,” he muttered into the pillows. “He had googly eyes on his tie! What kind of man uses googly eyes as a flex?!”

You said, “Baby, he's just a co-teacher.”

He gasped dramatically, “He co-teaches your heart.”

The next day, chaos bloomed. Sitting in the middle of your classroom rug, legs crossed, tie off, suit jacket gone, juice box in hand, was Drexhan Cleiv Villonzo. CEO. Billionaire. Crybaby. Wearing a cartoon dinosaur hoodie and a sticker that said: “HELLO, I'M NEW HERE!”

“Good morning, Miss Sunshine,” he grinned like a lunatic. “I'll be joining the class today.”

“What?!” you exclaimed.

“I canceled all my meetings,” he said. “Priorities. Let's build some blocks and boundaries, babe.”

The principal protested, but Drexhan's latest donation built the new auditorium and funded free lunches for a year. He was now officially “Classroom Guest Observer”—aka: Petty Billionaire Chaos Agent.

The day descended into madness. He joined the ABC song, harmonizing like a Broadway lead, making eye contact with Lucas the entire time. He drew a picture of you holding hands with him, while Lucas was in a volcano. He made a glitter crown that said “HER ONE TRUE KING” and wore it all day. He insisted on sitting next to you during circle time, shouting “I KNOW THIS ONE!” every time a kid answered a question. He even tried to arm-wrestle Lucas over who got to hand out snack time apples.

“Drex, stop it,” you said. “These are children.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “And they're catching feelings for Lucas. I have to secure my status.”

“As what?!”

“The Alpha Toddler.”

The final straw? Lucas handed you a glue stick. Drexhan snatched it mid-air. “Oh, I got this for her, Luc-Luc. She prefers the purple Elmer's, not that off-brand stuff. Know your adhesives.” Lucas blinked. Drexhan leaned in. “I own Elmer's now.”

When naptime came, you found Drexhan curled in the corner with a blanket, softly humming a lullaby to himself.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Recharging my emotional battery after fighting for your affection with a five-year-old named Noah,” he replied.

“You're insane,” you said.

He yawned. “Insanely in love.”

At pickup, the kids loved him. They made him a crown of popsicle sticks and macaroni. He wore it in the limo like it was made of gold. You sat beside him, exhausted, mascara smudged from chaotic laughter. He looked at you with a proud smirk. “Lucas may have googly eyes… but I have investment portfolios and glitter loyalty.”