You stood in front of a towering building. Beside you, your boyfriend of six years, Liam Johnson, squeezed your hand tight.

"We finally did it, babe," you whispered.

This company was your blood, sweat, and tears. The ultimate symbol of your love. At first, everything was smooth sailing — until two years later, the profits nose-dived like a rollercoaster with no brakes.

"You can get the investor funding, right, Liam?" you asked.

"Y-yeah, babe. I got this. Relax."

You were crushed, but you loved this company too much to let it die. So you bounced back. You hustled, rebranded the Rhodes Corp, and crowned yourself CEO. Three years later, your empire was booming.

You thought the drama was over. But destiny loves a good sitcom.

One afternoon, you were driving your luxury SUV when suddenly—BAM!

A delivery bike crashed into your bumper. You stepped out, ready to scream, only to see the rider picking up crushed pizza boxes.

Until he took off the helmet.

"Liam?!"

His eyes bugged out like flying saucers. He tried to bolt, tripped over a smashed pizza, and face-planted on the asphalt. You grabbed his uniform.

"Where have you been?!"

"I-I'm sorry! Mercy, babe! Forgive me!" he whined.

"You ditched me at rock bottom! You said we were in this together!"

"I tried to double our money with dog-coin crypto! It was a rug pull! I was terrified you'd murder me, so I ran!"

Your blood boiled—then a slow, psychotic smile crept onto your face. "Follow me."

"Not the cops, please! Anything but—"

"Anything?"

He nodded like a bobblehead. You dragged him straight to Rhodes Corp.

The lobby was all gleaming marble and crystal chandeliers. Liam's jaw dropped.

"Wow... you really did a great job, babe," he said, grinning nervously.

You flagged down Mr. Hayes from HR. "Draft an employment contract for this guy. He already knows this place well."

Liam's eyes filled with happy tears. He puffed out his chest. "You're making me Co-CEO again? Oh my god, thank you so mu—"

"Of course," you cut him off, voice echoing across the lobby. "Starting this second, he is our new CEO. Chief Environmental Officer."

Liam blinked. "Like... managing green energy?"

"No. Like managing the office environment so it stays shiny."

Right on cue, Mr. Bob, the senior janitor, rolled past with his cart. Catching your nod, he tossed a soaking wet mop directly at Liam's face. SMACK!

"Here is your royal scepter, Mr. Chief," Mr. Bob reported flatly. "The third-floor toilet is clogged. Have fun."

"WHAT?! A JANITOR?!"

The lobby erupted in muffled laughter.

"Minimum wage, minus 90% for your debt in the past," you said. "One speck of dust on my carpet and I'm docking your pay."

"B-but, Babe—"

"Ah-ah." You raised one finger. "Who gave you permission to call me that in my building?"

Liam broke into a full-body sweat. "Then what do I call you? Boss? Ma'am? Madam CEO?"

You leaned in, staring dead into his terrified eyes. "Whenever you breathe in my direction... you call me Your Majesty."

Liam's soul visibly left his body. His grip on the mop slipped—and WHACK—the handle dropped straight onto his big toe.

"YEOOOWW! Y-yes! Okay! Y-Your Majesty!"