She wakes up in his arms, heart racing, then *the call*. One second: post-coital bliss. Next: panic, jacket on, scribbling ‘Dinner is my treat’ like it’s a legal disclaimer. The whiplash from intimacy to professionalism? Brutal. Becoming the divorce lawyer of my billionaire husband hits different when you’re still wearing his shirt. 😅
Mia and her husband’s ‘just one drink’ turns into a feverish, wine-soaked confession—then a kiss that shatters the illusion of civility. The lighting, the tension, the way he whispers ‘if only you weren’t married’… chills. Becoming the divorce lawyer of my billionaire husband isn’t just a title—it’s a slow-motion detonation. 💥