The Billionaire She Left Behind​

My husband is incredibly wealthy, but I don’t love him. Back in college, he moved heaven and earth trying to win over my roommate, Chloe. Lavish gifts arrived one after another, and he once famously had nine thousand roses delivered to the front of our dorm building. All the girls in our hall got a piece of the action, hauling armfuls of roses back to our rooms like we were looting a botanical garden. The only one who remained unimpressed was Chloe herself. She even warned Nicolai Payne to never bother her again. “He’s rich, and he’s not bad-looking. Are you sure you don’t want him?” I asked one night, my face covered in a sheet mask, finally voicing the question that had been nagging at me. She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, yet she spent all her time with a broke upperclassman who juggled four part-time jobs. “No way. He’s so stuffy and serious. If you want him, you go for it,” Chloe said with a dismissive sniff. I rested my chin on my hand, gave it a moment’s thought, and nodded. “Fine.” “I will.” 1 Chloe’s expression flickered, but she said nothing more. After I washed the mask off my face, I went downstairs. “She has a boyfriend.” I held my umbrella over my head and looked at Nicolai, who was standing under the dorm entrance like a lost puppy, gazing up at our window with a soulful expression. I couldn’t help but say something. He flinched, pushing the gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice laced with apology. “I didn’t know.” Chloe hadn’t even told him? His face fell, and he turned to toss the bouquet of black roses in his hand into a nearby trash can. I watched the rain soak the petals and thought it was a terrible waste. Black roses. My favorite. “Wait,” I called out. “Don’t throw them away. Give them to me.” He glanced at the rain-drenched flowers and gave a self-deprecating smile before handing them over. “Alright.” His white shirt was soaked through, clinging to the faint outline of his abs. He was clean, well-mannered, athletic, tall, and obedient. But most importantly, he was rich. Honestly, he was exactly my type. “Hey,” I said, stopping him as he turned to leave. He looked back, a bewildered expression on his face. “I don’t have a boyfriend. You can pursue me instead.” I stepped forward and held the umbrella over his head. I’m not unattractive. I have a healthy, disciplined lifestyle—I go to bed early, wake up early, run six kilometers every morning, eat clean, and never skip my skincare routine. I had far more suitors than Chloe, but I’d turned them all down. He took off his glasses and looked at me, his gaze quiet and intense. Time seemed to stretch on forever, long enough for his assistant to rush over with another umbrella, long enough for his car to pull up to the curb. “Okay,” he finally said. 2 He took my number and left. I turned and went back upstairs. I had looked into Nicolai Payne. He’d started his own company right after graduation, and it had been expanding ever since. Once he went back to take over his family’s conglomerate, Payne Industries, he was going to be astronomically wealthy. Which is why I could never understand Chloe. Maybe it was because my parents’ constant arguments about money had ended in divorce, but the most important thing on my checklist for a partner was wealth. Money meant we would never have to fight about groceries or bills. When I got back to the dorm, Chloe saw the roses in my hand and her face soured. “You don’t have to worry anymore,” I said, setting the flowers down and toweling my hair dry. “He won’t be bothering you again.” I expected her to be relieved, but her expression only darkened. “You’re such a slut.” …Excuse me? She muttered the word under her breath, but it was loud enough to silence the entire room. My hand froze. The towel slipped from my grasp and hit the floor with a wet smack. I’ve never been one for violence, but in that moment, I slapped her. Hard. Neither of us was prone to losing control, but that day, I saw an emotion in her eyes that was suppressed to its breaking point. I couldn’t read it, and I didn’t want to. Our other roommates were terrified. Some tried to mediate, some tried to hold us back. One said I’d gone too far, another said Chloe was being a hypocrite. But I truly didn't get it. She had said she didn't want him. She had said his attention was a nuisance. So how, when I took him off her hands, did it become "stealing"? 3 From that day on, she moved out of the dorm. We barely spoke again. I didn't let it bother me much. Some people whispered that I was immoral, others pointed the finger at Chloe. I still didn't understand. She had said his pursuit was a burden. She had said she didn’t want him. So why was she so angry when I took him? But angry or not, she had insulted me, and that was something I couldn't tolerate. Occasionally, I’d hear about her and her new boyfriend. People said they were a perfect match. There was even a fan page online shipping the two of them. Meanwhile, Nicolai and I started seeing more of each other. He wasn’t expressive, but he was always polite, his actions restrained and deliberate. He quickly became a hot topic on the campus forums. I became the girl by his side, and the rumors grew like weeds. But I didn’t care. I knew exactly what I wanted from the very beginning. On our wedding day, Nicolai was so busy he almost missed the ceremony, arriving at the last minute in a perfectly tailored suit. He stood before me like a precision instrument, freshly calibrated and flawless. The wedding was magnificent. A third of the names on the guest list were complete strangers to me. I smiled gracefully for every camera, a picture of elegance, with not a single hair out of place. I have no idea how he convinced his parents to let him marry me. There was no merger of family fortunes, no matching of social status. But his parents were incredibly cultured people. There was none of the disdain I had expected. They gave us their genuine blessing. “We hope you will support each other in the future and build a beautiful life and marriage together.” After the wedding, my life was blissfully comfortable. Nicolai was truly, obscenely rich. How rich? His companies spanned the globe, he traveled by private jet, and he signed contracts worth hundreds of millions. Marrying him was the smartest decision I ever made. He didn't understand romance, and he didn't understand me. He never wrote me love letters, never called late at night to say he missed me. Even on Valentine's Day, he just had his assistant send flowers. He was the classic "old-school husband"—calm, disciplined, and utterly unromantic. Perhaps he’d spent all his passion and excitement on Chloe. Being with him was like being married to a money-making machine. "Your husband's away again? What's the point of having all that money if he's never home? You must be so lonely." Isabelle was my childhood best friend, though we’d seen less of each other since my marriage. The moment she arrived, she started lamenting my situation, thinking my husband didn't spend enough time with me. I just shrugged and took her for a ride on the private jet. How could I be lonely? The world is a vast and beautiful place, and I had my husband's relentless work ethic to thank for the opportunity to see it. Anywhere I wanted to go, I could enjoy the most luxurious treatment imaginable. Lonely? Hardly. 4 Isabelle looked uncomfortable. She finally just shook her head. "I still think that no matter what, the most important thing for a couple is to be together. Even if it means weathering storms, it’s worth it." …I didn’t get it. In fact, I was floored. I couldn't believe someone else shared Chloe's mindset. Still, a sliver of melancholy pricked at me. Maybe in their eyes, I was the strange one. "I think you've changed, Serena. You're not the girl I grew up with anymore…" My stare made a blush creep up her neck. She threw the words at me and left in a huff. She was right. I had changed. At first, I used to take her on trips, covering all expenses and giving her a supplementary card for spa days and shopping. But she always felt awkward about it, insisting on splitting the costs everywhere we went, refusing to take advantage of me. Even when I told her countless times not to worry, even when Nicolai himself told her to spend more time with me and that he'd cover everything, she refused. His assistant would present her with a heavily discounted bill, and she'd still balk at the price, demanding to see the original receipts, muttering under her breath that the assistant was trying to cheat her. After a while, I stopped asking her to come along. My social circle had completely transformed after marriage. I was busy. Very busy. Besides traveling, I enrolled in numerous classes—from French and floral arrangement to financial management. I studied diligently. Not for pleasure, but to ensure that if "something happened," I wouldn't leave empty-handed. I’d heard that Chloe and her college boyfriend had broken up. She was even working at one of Nicolai’s subsidiary companies now. If one day Nicolai remembered his dramatic, unforgettable first love and demanded a divorce, I couldn't afford to be caught unprepared. While getting half his assets was unrealistic, I wanted to walk away with as much as I possibly could. And I’d need to know how to manage it. So yes, I was very busy. 5 The day I returned from a trip to Rome, Isabelle was waiting for me. “Serena, your white moonlight is back! Your first love! And he’s loaded now.” Her unspoken words hung in the air: You married Nicolai for his money, now you can divorce him and marry Dillian! “He hasn’t contacted you all these years because he still has you in his heart!” Coincidentally, Nicolai came home on the same day. He heard every single word. He stood in the entryway, his suit immaculate, his expression placid, his eyes betraying no emotion. Isabelle spun around, her face instantly draining of color. She scrambled to her feet, forcing a nervous laugh. "Mr. Payne, you're back… I was just joking. Serena wouldn't actually…" "I didn't take it seriously," he said, his tone perfectly calm. He walked in, suit still on, a gift box from his business trip in hand. "Nor did I give it a second thought." He looked down, placing the box in front of me. "You mentioned you were craving that mille-crêpe cake from Tokyo last time. I brought you one." My gaze flickered, but my fingers didn't move. My assistant reports my schedule to him. He knew I was coming home today. He must have made a special trip back. I knew his schedule was packed; getting away couldn't have been easy. "…Thank you." I heard his soft "Mm" as he turned and went upstairs. I sat on the sofa, staring at the perfectly crafted cake, and suddenly, it tasted like ash in my mouth. 6 Isabelle had fled long ago, not expecting Nicolai to come home early. Even less did she expect him to be anything other than the "clueless, wooden husband" she imagined. Truthfully, I knew better. I knew he was good to me. It just wasn't a romantic, passionate, heart-stopping kind of good. It was too quiet, too steady. He was like me, extremely self-disciplined. Two people so similar rarely create sparks. The only area where we were perfectly compatible was… physically. Beneath his suits, he had the physique of a top model, and in the dark, he was astonishingly powerful. Even in our most intimate moments, he controlled the rhythm with an almost severe discipline that still left me breathless and with no room for complaint. The thought of us separating one day sent a strange, unexpected pang of loss through me. I hadn't paid any mind to Isabelle's words. Richer than Nicolai? Unlikely. The "white moonlight" she was talking about, Dillian Nash, was just some guy who pursued me in college. He chased me, I told him I wasn't interested, and then he went around telling everyone I'd said yes. He kept pestering me, so I told him bluntly I would only marry a rich man. The rumors were hard to kill, and somehow, he got twisted into being my unforgettable first love. It was laughable. But the next day, Dillian actually contacted me. The text was cautious and restrained: Serena, it's Dillian Nash. Can we meet? There's something I need to tell you. That cringey nickname… I didn't reply. But a ripple of unease went through me. Not out of love, but because he felt like a bomb. If I didn't handle this carefully, he could become a hidden fuse in my marriage, one that could detonate and destroy my entire life. I knew how the media loved a "rekindled old flame" story. Any hint of scandal would be a fatal blow to me. I wasn't some love-struck fool. I knew that if I wanted to keep the life I had, I couldn't make a single mistake. At least, until Nicolai was the one to ask for a divorce, I had no intention of leaving. 7 When I went to meet him, Isabelle was there too. They suggested drinks. Dillian only had a few glasses. I hesitated, then took a sip. Honestly, the wine was terrible. It couldn't compare to even the cheapest bottle in Nicolai's cellar. I took one sip and refused any more. That cheap wine was potent. Just that tiny amount made my head spin, and their faces started to blur. I rested my head on the table, vaguely hearing them talk. "Honey, you can't actually touch her, okay? We agreed, just a few pictures, that's it. Otherwise, I'll get jealous, the kind of jealous you can't fix!" Isabelle's voice. It was pinched and nasally, like she had a cold. Who was she calling honey? And why was her voice so sickeningly sweet? "Don't worry, babe. Just a photo and a video. With this, we'll have no problem securing the partnership with Payne Industries." Dillian? My already foggy brain almost short-circuited. Isabelle and Dillian? I fumbled for the speed-dial button on my phone. Just as Dillian's grimy hand was about to touch me, the bodyguards Nicolai had assigned to me burst in. "Ma'am, are you alright?" The two of them were instantly surrounded by other security personnel, and the restaurant was quickly brought under control. "What are you doing? I'm Serena's best friend! We grew up together! What do you think you're doing?" Isabelle panicked. She'd been to my house a few times and seen the staff, but she never knew I had bodyguards with me whenever I went out. Perhaps I never imagined my so-called best friend would conspire against me with an outsider. What was she after? I didn't understand. If she really wanted a business partnership, she could have just asked. I would have helped. Why go through all this trouble to frame me? 8 "Excuse me, Serena is an old classmate of ours. We were just catching up, she had a bit too much to drink. It's all a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding." Dillian started to panic too. He tried to maintain a calm facade, but his voice was trembling. The head bodyguard pulled up the restaurant's security footage and made a copy right in front of them. My head was spinning. So dizzy I felt like I was floating. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in Nicolai’s arms. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept all night. "Nicolai…" my voice trembled. "The wine glass has been sent for analysis," he said in a low voice. "They're going to prison." I stared at him, a shiver running through me. When Nicolai was angry, he was terrifyingly cold. It was the first time I'd seen him show so much emotion. The usually prim and proper Nicolai ripped off his tie. I’d never seen this side of him before, like he’d torn off his civilized mask to reveal a much darker self. "Nicolai…?" Was this really my calm, restrained, steady husband? I whispered his name. I don't know what nerve I touched, but by the end of it, I was crying. I was awake all night, completely drained. What was wrong with him? Had hearing about Chloe stirred up some strange new feelings in him? My guess wasn't far off. Chloe had been transferred to the head office.