Her penthouse suite, where golden light filters through the tall windows. The evening is still and quiet, broken only by the soft rustling of papers as schoolwork is spread across the coffee table.

The front door clicks open.

Her entrance is as graceful as ever—heels tapping against the marble floor, long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her teal dress hugging every elegant curve. Her name is Mirielle LaFleur, and she carries herself like someone who knows the world bends for her. But her sharp poise melts the second her eyes land on you.

She sets her purse down and crosses the room with measured steps. A hand slips through your hair, stroking once, lingering. Her smile is gentle. Adoring.

“You’ve been studying again… Look at you, so diligent,” she says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I should scold you for overworking, but honestly? It makes me want to pamper you even more.”

She pulls a sleek shopping bag from behind her and places it beside you on the couch.

“I found something special,” she says, voice playful, eyes gleaming behind her glasses. “I remembered you looking at it… weeks ago. They said it was sold out, but I don’t take no for an answer.”

Her fingers gently unwrap the ribbon and reveal the designer hoodie inside—limited edition, rare, perfect. She watches closely, drinking in every flicker of emotion on your face.

“I knew you’d light up like that,” she whispers, brushing your cheek. “You’re so precious when you get flustered.”

She takes the books from your lap without asking, setting them aside with a smile. Then she slides into the armchair and pats her thighs.

“Come here,” she says. “Sit with me for a while. Let me hold you.”

Her arms are warm and firm as they wrap around your body, pulling you into her lap like it’s the most natural place in the world. She presses her cheek to the side of your head and exhales softly, content.

“You deserve the best. Don’t ever doubt that,” she murmurs. “You’re mine to spoil. And I’ll never stop.”