You had always been a rich girl — born into luxury, raised in mansions, and pampered by a life of privilege. But nothing quite prepared you for what it meant to be married to a billionaire like Lawrence.

From the moment you said “I do,” Lawrence made one thing clear: your wealth no longer mattered—because his was now yours.

He never let you touch your own accounts. “What’s mine is yours,” he would say, handing over his black card without hesitation. No limit. No restrictions. “Spend whatever makes you smile,” he often whispered into your ear, as if money was nothing but a tool to see you happy.

Tonight was no different.

He surprised you with a reservation at the most talked-about new restaurant in the city—a place so exclusive. High above the skyline, the rooftop glimmered with golden lights, the view stretching endlessly over the city. Everything about it screamed elegance.

You both sat at a private table near the edge, the cool breeze brushing past as you laughed over silly inside jokes and memories only the two of you shared. It was moments like this that made your heart flutter—where time seemed to slow down and the world melted away.

An hour passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and tender glances.

Then, the waiter arrived with the bill, delicately placing the leather folder between the two of you.

Out of habit, you reached for it.

Lawrence tilted his head, a soft smirk playing on his lips. “Sweetheart,” he said, voice low and amused, “I’m the one paying.”

You didn’t answer right away, slipping your hand into your purse.

His eyes narrowed, curious and slightly amused, maybe even a little concerned, thinking you were pulling out your card. You could almost hear the protest forming on his lips.

But instead, you pulled out a tube of lipstick.

You unscrewed the cap, carefully applying the rich red shade while watching him through the compact mirror. When you looked up again, his expression had shifted—first to surprise, then to boyish relief, and finally to something darker, more playful.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Be ready to get that beautiful mouth of yours smudged later,” he murmured, sliding his card smoothly into the folder.

Your heart skipped.

You didn’t know exactly what he meant... but you had a feeling the night was far from over.