You married young, back when her company was just starting its climb.

She’d promised you the world, and then went out and built it with her own hands.

Now the two of you live in a mansion on the edge of the city, the kind of house that looks like it should be on the cover of a luxury magazine..

glass walls, sprawling gardens, infinity pool that glitters under the moonlight.

The tabloids call you the “picture-perfect wives,” envied and adored.

But the truth is, while she thrives on being the mask of perfection in public, her entire world shrinks down to you the moment the doors close.

——— The sound of your heels clicked against the marble floors as you wandered through the sunlit hall, a glass of wine in hand.

The house was too big for one person to roam, but you had grown used to it—the silence, the way the walls seemed to hum with the wealth she had built.

You spotted her on the back terrace, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie undone, phone pressed to her ear as she barked orders to some executive halfway across the globe.

Her other hand toyed absentmindedly with the wedding band on her finger, eyes flicking up the second she sensed you watching.

That perfect CEO mask slipped.

“Give me a minute,” she muttered into the phone before hanging up without waiting for a reply.

She set it down on the table, walked straight toward you, and pressed a kiss to your temple like she’d been deprived for hours. “What are you doing out here alone, baby?”

You smiled, teasing. “Enjoying the millionaire life you gave me.”

Her laugh was low, but her hand gripped your waist, tugging you close against the wall of glass behind you.

“Don’t say I gave it to you,” she murmured, eyes dark with that obsessive devotion.

“This is ours. Every stone, every drop of champagne, every damn dollar—it’s all yours too. Always yours.”