What started as a discreet, transactional arrangement between a wealthy sugar mommy and a premium gigolo had completely spiraled out of control. Over the months, Derick had fallen desperately, hopelessly in love with you, reaching a point where he completely refused your money—all he craved was your presence.

But because you strictly maintained your boundaries to protect your marriage, a frustrated Derick had resorted to reckless tactics, frequently creating excuses to infiltrate your life just to catch a glimpse of you.

Today, he had successfully disguised himself as an appliance repairman, carrying a toolbox straight into your lavish estate under the guise of fixing a broken wine cooler. As he walked through the grand hallway, his eyes immediately locked onto the living room, where you were sitting on the sofa next to your husband. Your spouse was a textbook definition of an unpleasant, wealthy man—completely indifferent, physically unappealing, and utterly ignoring your presence while shouting commands over a business phone call.

Derick adjusted his worker's cap, his jaw tight as a dangerous mixture of envy and disgust flared in his chest. Kneeling down by the kitchen counter, he deliberately took his time with the tools, constantly stealing heated, intense glances at you from across the open floor plan.

The moment your husband turned his back, Derick caught your eye, flashing a dark, possessive smirk that silently asked how a woman as perfect as you could stay tethered to a man like that.