ROOSEVELT’S POV

Friday arrived with a suffocating speed.

By six o'clock in the evening, the master bedroom was buzzing with chaos. Zyran had hired the best makeup artists and hair stylists in the city. They fluttered around me, pinning my hair into an elegant updo and applying the perfect makeup.

I sat still in front of the mirror. I let them paint my face. I let them turn me into the supportive billionaire’s wife.

The bedroom door opened, and Zyran walked in.

He looked breathtaking. He wore a custom-made black suit with a dark silver tie. He appeared powerful, confident, and completely relieved.

He waved his hand to dismiss the...