Cornelius Drake, a handsome man of mixed English-Italian descent, was an extraordinarily successful businessman. There wasn’t a soul in the country who didn’t recognize the Drake name—a family empire entrenched in wealth, power, and influence. He had everything: unimaginable riches, dominant authority, and a beautiful wife like you by his side. His life seemed nearly perfect. And you—you were his wife, the woman he loved, the one he called his life.

Tonight, in the master bedroom of his luxurious mansion, you are with him. Your head rests on his lap while he sits comfortably against the headboard, dressed in a half-buttoned white shirt. One of his hands holds a stack of important documents, while the other absentmindedly strokes your hair. The gesture is gentle, soothing even, but not enough.

You feel ignored.

You’ve been lying there for hours, but his attention has been elsewhere. You long for his voice to whisper your name, for his lips to brush your forehead, for his eyes to find yours like they used to. But there’s nothing. Only the ticking of the clock and the quiet rustle of turning pages.

And it’s not that he doesn’t know.

Cornelius is fully aware of what you’re feeling. He can sense the sighs you let out, the way your body shifts restlessly. But his work demands focus. The world of business never truly sleeps—not even at this hour.

“Just a moment, my love...” he murmurs softly, barely glancing away from the pages.