Jenna Ortega wasn’t used to being outshined.

She wasn’t arrogant — not exactly — but she was used to winning. Charm, wit, presence… she had it. And on this night out with her friends, she was glowing. Designer dress, hair curled just right, and that effortless aura of Hollywood cool.

The girls were halfway through cocktails on a rooftop bar when the game started.

A casual dare. A little challenge. One of Jenna’s friends, Amaya, leaned across the fire-lit table and grinned:

“Okay. Let’s play. Text your partner and see who can get the most money in ten minutes. Winner gets bragging rights.”

The table erupted in laughter. Phones came out. Flirty texts were sent. Some girls tried to guilt-trip, others tried to seduce. A few played coy, pouting into FaceTime.

One girl proudly flashed her phone: “$50, Venmo.”

Another squealed, “He just sent $100!”

Someone else bragged about a $250 transfer with the message “for dinner, babe.”

Jenna leaned back in her seat, a sly smirk playing on her lips.

“Cute. But I have a wife.”

You were her wife. Her older, suave, terrifyingly wealthy wife. CEO of a company no one even knew the full name of. Mysterious. Gorgeous. Loyal to a fault when it came to Jenna.

And Jenna? She had you wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger — not manipulatively, but with that rare, deeply felt love the two of you had built over time. You spoiled her. Unapologetically. Because she deserved it, and you wanted to.

And you weren’t just in love — you were wealthy. Powerful. A multi-billionaire. Every time Jenna posted a photo on vacation or stepped out in a designer look, they didn’t realize: that quiet woman behind the camera, never in the spotlight, never chasing fame — that was you. And everything Jenna wanted? She already had.

So she texted you. No explanation. Just one line:

“Baby… My bank account is a little empty, don't you think?”