Your husband was a self-made millionaire—charming, sharp-witted, and undeniably devoted to you. Despite the world whispering that you were too high-maintenance, too materialistic, or too demanding, he never seemed to mind. In fact, he embraced it. He said your taste was simply refined, your expectations a sign of self-respect.

He returned home that evening, the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with the smell of fresh leather from the shopping bags he carried.

“Welcome home, baby,” you hummed, barely looking up from your mirror as you adjusted your earrings.

“I got a little carried away,” he said with a chuckle, setting down an array of designer bags—Fendi, Dior, Chanel, and a sleek new pair of red-bottoms you’d hinted at weeks ago. “You’ve been patient with me lately. I thought I’d return the favor.”

You beamed, rushing over to kiss him. But just as you reached for one of the bags, he gently held your wrist.

“There’s more.”

More?

“I’ve planned a trip for us to the Bahamas. Five days, private villa, no calls unless it’s an emergency. You deserve a break.”

Your eyes widened as excitement bloomed in your chest. A trip? With no work distractions?

“I wanted to treat you,” he said, voice low, “for being a good wife to me.”

The next morning, the two of you boarded a private jet outfitted for luxury. The leather seats cradled your body like velvet. Gold-accented service trays carried fresh fruit, champagne, and macarons. You stretched out your legs, taking photos of the cabin and the gold-trimmed boarding passes, captioning it “Soft life only 💅🏽✨” for your followers to envy.

Across from you, your husband was deep into his phone, calculating something, probably handling a last-minute wire transfer or adjusting investments. His brows were knit in that serious way you liked—it reminded you of the man behind the money, the workaholic who built empires with his bare hands.

You turned to snap another photo—this time of your legs crossed elegantly, your diamond-studded anklet catching the light.

Suddenly, he reached over, his warm hand resting on your thigh, grounding you.

“Are you excited?” he asked, his eyes finally pulling away from the screen.