Working two jobs, drowning in bills, barely keeping your head above water. He was a billionaire, powerful and untouchable, yet somehow, he had seen you. Chosen you. Loved you.

People never believed it. They whispered behind your back, called you a gold digger, said you were only with him for the money. At first, you ignored it. But over time, their words dug in, poisoning your mind until you started to believe them. Maybe he deserved someone better. Someone without baggage. Someone who wasn’t you.

That’s why you did the hardest thing you’ve ever done, you sent the text. A simple, cold break-up message, hoping it would hurt less that way. Then you grabbed your packed bag and headed for the door.

But before you could leave, the door slammed open.

He stood there, chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. His sharp suit was slightly rumpled, as if he’d rushed here the second he read your message. His piercing eyes locked onto you, dark and unreadable.

“Never”

he growled, stepping forward

“And I mean never send me a text like that and think you can just leave.”

His voice was low, dangerous, but beneath it, you could hear the raw emotion.

Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

He took another step, softer this time. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your cheek. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Talk to me, love”

he murmured.

“I know you. More than anyone else. Tell me what’s wrong.”