My Billionaire Husband's Secret Game

I stayed by Maximilian's side as he fought his way up from nothing. Naturally, I got to enjoy the good life too. I spent my days holed up in his tenthousandsquarefoot mansion.

I gamed, ordered takeout, and happily lived out my dream as a professional freeloader. Life was boring, rich, and perfectly lazy. It was exactly what I always wanted.

Then, out of nowhere, he told me I needed to get a job. "Are we broke?" I asked. "No," he said. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes.

I pointed a finger at my chest. "Are you cutting me off?" "Of course not. I just think you need your own career. Your own life." Fine.

He was just sick of looking at me lounging around the house. He eventually wore me down and shoved me out into the real world.

But once I stepped out of his overprotective shadow, I realized the outside world wasn't scary at all.

My nice colleagues taught me how to slack off, took me out drinking, and played games with me. Gradually, I started coming home later and later.

One night, I didn't stumble in until the early hours of the morning. Max was sitting on the couch. He had been waiting in the dark for nearly five hours.

His eyes darkened the second the smell of alcohol hit him. "What exactly do you do at this job?

You are busier than I am." I waved him off. "Just hanging out with my coworkers." A sharp pain shot through my wrist. Max gripped my arm.

His voice was pure ice. "Where is your wedding ring?" I shook my alcoholsoaked brain and mumbled, "I went to play ball with my coworkers this afternoon.

The ring was getting in the way, so I took it off." I woke up the next morning with a splitting hangover. The very first thing Max did was demand I quit my job immediately.

Weren't you the one who forced me to go in the first place? Chapter 1 I never had any real ambition growing up. Getting by on minimum effort was my ultimate life goal.

Maximilian was the exact opposite. He wanted nothing more than to escape this small Rust Belt town and claim a bigger piece of the world.

He was an eagle, meant to break free from the suffocating limits of our tiny universe.

I was just a chick huddled under his wing, perfectly content to stay in the nest and let him feed me. We were the same age.

We both grew up in the foster care system, bouncing around the same group home. For the first eighteen years of our lives, our paths were intertwined. We were best friends.

Brothers. We were the only real family either of us had in this world. Then, at eighteen, Max got an Ivy League acceptance letter.

His very first reaction was to ask if I wanted to go to New York City with him. I was on the floor at the time, shoving my meager belongings into heavyduty trash bags.

Knowing New York City was a massive, glamorous place, I even threw away my shirts with the biggest holes in them so I wouldn't embarrass him. I froze and looked up at him. "Wait.

Are you just now deciding to take me with you?" I had spent months collecting and selling plastic bottles just to scrape together our travel money. Max had perfect grades.

He could have gone to any college in the country. I never knew exactly how far he would go, so I started working random parttime jobs during my junior year of high school.

I even picked up empty bottles off the street for pocket change. Eventually, I scraped together a decent amount of cash.

It was enough to cover our bus tickets to wherever he decided to go. I wasn't cut out for school. That was fine.

It just meant that no matter where Max went to study, I could follow him. Back then, we didn't even have a word for being gay.

Chapter 2 So when Max stole a kiss from me at seventeen, it felt like a massive sin. That was the first time I actually wanted to go to a big city.

People always said the hospitals there were advanced. I figured whatever sickness Max and I had, they could cure it. But Max insisted we weren't sick.

I remember that night in the group home. He crawled into my bed.

His face and the tips of his ears were burning red, but he stared right at me and told me there was nothing wrong with us.

Even if the big city couldn't fix us, I was going with him anyway. We grew up in the foster care system without any real family. Our world was impossibly small.

It was just the two of us. We were two isolated islands, clinging to each other just to survive the rough waters. Seven years slipped by.

After college, Max didn't go to grad school. He dove straight into the booming real estate market. He left early and came home late, reeking of alcohol.

I never knew exactly how much money he made. I just knew we upgraded from a cramped apartment to a building with an elevator. Then to a luxury penthouse.

And finally, into this brandnew gated community right here in New York City. The day we moved in, the sheer scale of his wealth finally clicked for me. My eagle had found his sky.

He spread his wings, and New York City became his empire. Living here, I learned a lot of things. Max was right. We weren't sick.

I also found out guys like us could get legally married. Two weeks later, we went down to City Hall and legally exchanged our rings.

Life was incredibly comfortable, if a little boring. That all changed one night.

I was curled up on the living room couch, finally beating the last level of my game on the custom highend gaming laptop Max had brought back from a business trip to Japan.

Exhausted, I passed out right there. I didn't stir until Max came home and scooped me up. I sank into his familiar warmth, barely registering the movement as he carried me to bed.

Then his fingers brushed my cheek. "I am sorry, Baby," he whispered. His deep, gentle voice sliced through my foggy brain. I cracked my eyes open, convinced I was still dreaming.

I shot him a sleepy grin. "Apology denied." Then I rolled over and went right back to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, Max hit me with a demand out of nowhere.

He wanted me to get a job. I stared at him. "Are we broke?" "No." Max let out a low chuckle. He always woke up before me.

It didn't matter how late he went to bed, he was always up first. He sat on the edge of the mattress in a crisp linen shirt, casually handing me my morning glass of water.

I didn't take the glass. I just pointed a finger at my own chest. Hot tears pooled in my eyes instantly. "Babe, are you cutting me off?" "Of course not.

I just think you need your own career. Your own life." Chapter 3 Usually, a few tears were all it took for Max to drop whatever he was pushing me to do. Not this time.

He was dead set on this whole job thing. I threw every tantrum in the book. I whined. I stalled. Nothing worked. He was going to make me work, no matter what.

When I realized he wasn't backing down, my temper flared.

I grabbed the stack of job listings he handed me and threw them in the trash. "I am getting a job on my own terms!" "Stop being difficult, Baby. Come work at my company for a bit.

I won't feel comfortable with you working anywhere else." He looked genuinely worried, but his demand hadn't shifted an inch.

I slammed my hand on the table. "You are the one forcing me to be independent! I am not going to be a nepo baby.

I am getting a job on my own terms!" I spent the next two weeks aggressively submitting my resume on Indeed. Not a single place called me back for an interview.

I was so mad I barely spoke to Max the entire time. Finally, the very last application I sent out got a hit. It was a tiny startup looking for an office clerk.

They only had one requirement. Proficiency with computers. I rubbed my forehead. Being a hardcore gamer totally counted as computer proficiency, right?

The starting pay was a pathetic three thousand a month, but the hours were a standard ninetofive with weekends off. I frowned at the screen.

Since when was a ninetofive a massive perk? Wasn't that phrase supposed to mean a grueling corporate grind?

On the day of the interview, I strutted out the door with my chest puffed out. I even put on a custom suit Max had tailored for me years ago. I looked absolutely incredible.

The interview was easy. Ridiculously easy.

I didn't get to use a single one of the generic answers I had memorized online. "Do you have any specific requirements for our company?" the manager asked. "Any questions about the salary or benefits?" I shook my head to all of it.

Everything sounded perfectly fine to me. He told me to go home and wait for a call. Panic gnawed at my stomach as I walked out. The interviewer had been so devoid of emotion.

He didn't ask a single challenging question. They definitely hated me. Max personally cooked a massive dinner that night to celebrate my very first interview.

I stared at the feast, completely drained of energy. Max stood up and served me a bowl of homemade chicken soup. "You definitely got the job, Baby." I asked him why he was so sure.

He pressed a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. "Small startups like that usually have very low standards for new hires." He was right. I passed the interview.

They told me to come in for my first day on Monday. The night before I started, I tossed and turned in bed. It was the first time in years I actually couldn't sleep.

Max grabbed me and pinned my thrashing body against his chest.

He read my mind instantly. "It is going to be okay, Baby," he murmured. "You are just getting some realworld experience.

If anyone gives you a hard time, do not keep it to yourself. We can always just find you a new job." I buried my face in his chest in the dark.

I asked him why he was forcing me to do this. His steady breaths fanned across the top of my head. After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh.

Chapter 4 Max tightened his arms around me, pressing our skin closer in the dark. "You have always waited at home for me alone all these years," he murmured. "I feel like I trapped you." I froze.

My mind flashed back to that night I fell asleep on the couch. His whispered apology wasn't a dream. I sank deeper into his warm embrace.

For the past twenty years, he kept me in this beautiful cage. I relied on his touch. I drowned in his protection. Did that really mean he trapped me?

He wasn't the only one wondering about it. I questioned it too. But after thinking it over, there are thousands of ways to navigate a relationship. Thousands of ways to love.

In the end, isn't it all just about what two people willingly choose