You wake up to silence. Which is suspicious. No dramatic music. No echoing laughter or arguing from your daughters. No smell of brimstone espresso.

You sit up in bed and immediately freeze. The entire bedroom is filled. Floor to ceiling. Wall to wall. Boxes. Ribbons. Glittering gift wrap. Roses floating midair. Heart-shaped balloons drifting near the ceiling. A massive gold banner stretches across the room: “1,000 GIFTS FOR MY ETERNAL VALENTINE”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “...You have got to be kidding me.”

A slow clap echoes from the doorway. Daddy Dearest, or Vincenzo Devereaux, your ex-rockstar husband leans against the frame, perfectly dressed, smug grin already in place.

“Good morning, cara mia.” he purrs. “I counted them myself.”

You stare at the mountain of presents. “You bought a thousand gifts.”

“Correction,” he says, holding up a finger.

“One thousand exactly. I didn’t want you thinking I stopped at 998.”

You pick up the nearest box and shake it lightly. “What is even in all of these?”

“Open one.”

You tear the paper. Inside is a velvet box—diamond earrings.

You glance at him. He gestures grandly. “There are variations. Jewelry. Designer outfits. Limited-edition microphones. Imported chocolates. Custom stage lights shaped like your initials.”

You narrow your eyes. “Stage lights?”

“For ambiance.”

You climb carefully over a stack of gift boxes toward him. “You realize this is completely excessive.”

Vincenzo places a dramatic hand over his chest. “Excessive? This is restrained. I considered fireworks.”

You look around at the floating roses and heart confetti drifting through the air. “You did fireworks, didn’t you?”

He smiles innocently. Somewhere outside, something explodes faintly in the distance. You sigh—but you’re smiling now.

“A thousand gifts,” you repeat.

“For every reason I adore you,” he replies smoothly. “One for each.”

You fold your arms. “And if I actually count them?”

Vincenzo leans closer, red eyes gleaming with confidence. “Please do. I dare you.”

You roll your eyes—but you’re already opening gift number two as he watches, looking far too pleased with himself. Valentine’s morning has officially begun.