My Filthy Rich Husband

My husband is filthy rich, but I don't love him.

Back in college, he pulled out all the stops chasing my roommate, Jasmine.

Designer gifts piled up one after another.

He even made this over-the-top gesture with nine thousand roses delivered right to our dorm.

We all in the dorm reaped the benefits, lugging armfuls of roses back upstairs like we were moving a damn florist shop.

Only Jasmine remained indifferent.

She even warned Lawson Pierce to stop bothering her.

"He's loaded, and not bad looking. You sure you don't want him?"

Smoothing my sheet mask, I finally asked the question I'd never understood.

Here she was, stunning, yet she spent all her time with that broke senior always hustling odd jobs.

"Nope. That kind of stiff, corporate drone? If you want him, you go chase him," Jasmine scoffed, dripping with disdain.

I propped my chin on my hand, thought for a second, then nodded.

"Alright.

"I will."

Jasmine's face flickered. She didn't say another word.

After my mask time, I washed my face and headed downstairs.

"She has a boyfriend."

I held my umbrella, spotting Lawson standing like a lost puppy in the rain, gazing at our window.

I couldn't help adding the extra detail.

He froze, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, looking apologetic.

"Sorry. I didn't know."

Jasmine hadn't even told him?

His expression dimmed as he looked down, about to toss the bouquet of black roses into the trash bin.

I stood there under my umbrella, watching the rain soak the flowers. Such a waste.

Black roses. My favorite.

"Wait, don't throw them out. Give them to me."

He gave a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the rain-drenched black roses, and handed them over.

"Okay."

Right then, his white shirt was plastered to his skin, hinting at well-defined abs underneath.

Clean-cut, polite, fit, tall, and obedient.

Most importantly, rich.

Honestly, he was totally my type.

"Hey."

I called out to him.

He turned, looking confused.

"I don't have a boyfriend. Chase me instead."

I lifted my umbrella, holding it over both of us.

I was not bad looking. I kept a healthy routine, early to bed and early to rise.

I ran six kilometers every morning, ate clean dinners, and maintained a strict skincare regimen.

More guys chased me than chased Jasmine, but I filtered them all out.

He took off his glasses, just looking at me quietly.

Time stretched out, long enough for his assistant to arrive with another umbrella, long enough for his car to pull up curbside.

"Okay."

He took down my number and left.

I turned and went back upstairs.

I'd looked Lawson up. He started his own company right after graduation and kept scaling it up.

Once he took over Pierce Holdings, he'd be insanely wealthy.

So I couldn't understand Jasmine.

Maybe it was because my parents fought constantly over money until they divorced, the top requirement for me in a partner was wealth.

Money meant no arguments over bills and groceries.

Back in the dorm, Jasmine saw the flowers in my hand, her face tightening.

"Don't worry. He won't bother you anymore."

I set the flowers down, drying my hair as I spoke.

I expected relief, maybe even gratitude. Instead, her face darkened.

"You bitch."

She spat it out.

Jasmine's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room, silencing everything.

I paused mid-hair-dry, my towel slipping to the floor with a wet slap.

I'm not usually the violent type, but in that moment, I slapped her.

We weren't the kind to lose control, but that day, her eyes held something suppressed, pushed to the absolute edge.

I couldn't read it nor did I want to.

Our roommates freaked. Some tried to calm things, others pulled us apart.

Some said I went too far, others called her a hypocrite.

But I genuinely didn't get it.

She said she didn't want him. She said he was a nuisance. So why, when I took him, was it suddenly "stealing"?

From that day, she moved out. We barely spoke again.

I didn't dwell on it.

Some people called me unethical. Some called her out.

I still didn't understand.

She said Lawson's pursuit was a burden. She said she didn't want him.

So why was she mad when I took him?

Mad is one thing, but the insultI couldn't let that slide.

I heard snippets about her and her boyfriend. People said they were the perfect match.

Online, folks shipped them hard.

Meanwhile, my contact with Lawson actually increased.

He wasn't big on expressing feelings, but he was impeccably polite, restrained.

He quickly became campus forum gossip material.

I became the fixture by his side and rumors spread like wildfire.

But I didn't care.

I knew exactly what I wanted from the start.

On our wedding day, Lawson showed up last minute, standing before me in a perfectly tailored suit.

He was like a machine, freshly calibrated and utterly precise.

The wedding was grand. One-third of the names on the guest list were unfamiliar to me.

I smiled perfectly, poised and elegant. In every photo, I looked flawless.

I never figured out how he convinced his parents to accept me.

No dynastic alliance, no matching social status. His parents were incredibly refined people.

None of the disdain or condescension I'd imagined materialized. They gave us their sincere blessing:

"We hope you'll support each other and build a strong marriage and fulfilling lives together."

After marriage, life was comfortable.

Lawson was seriously rich.

How rich? Companies under his name spanned the globe. He traveled by private jet.

A single contract was worth billions.

Marrying him was the smartest decision I ever made.

He wasn't romantic and he didn't understand me.

No love letters. No late-night calls saying he missed me.

Even Valentine's Day was just flowers delivered by his assistant.

He was the classic "corporate drone husband." Calm, disciplined, boring.

Maybe all his passion got used up chasing Jasmine.

Being with him felt like marrying a money-printing machine.

"Your husband's away again? What's the point of all that money if he's never home? Aren't you lonely?"

Sophia, a childhood friend I saw less after marrying.

She came over and immediately started pitying me, saying Lawson spent too little time with me.

I shrugged it off and took her up on the private jet.

Lonely? How could I be? The world is huge.

I should be thanking my husband for working so hard so I can see it.

Anywhere I want, whenever I want, I can experience the top-tier luxury.

Lonely?

Seriously?

Sophia looked uncomfortable, finally just shaking her head.

"I still think being together is what matters most for a couple. Even roughing it together would be sweet."

I didn't get it. I was downright baffled.

There were actually people who thought like Jasmine?

But a little pang hit me. Maybe, in their eyes, I was the weird one?

"You've changed, Serena. You're not the girl I grew up with anymore"

My stare made her flush with embarrassment. She tossed out the line and stormed off.

She was right. I had changed.

At first, I took her on trips, covered everything, gave her a card for spas and treatments.

But she always felt awkward, insisted on splitting bills everywhere. She hated feeling like she owed me.

Even after I told her countless times it was fine, even after Lawson himself told her to keep me company and offered to cover all expenses, she refused.

When my assistant sent her the discounted cost breakdown, she balked at the price, demanded receipts and invoices.

Implying the assistant was trying to scam her.

Gradually, I stopped inviting her.

My circle after marriage was completely different.

I was crazy busy. Besides traveling, I took tons of classes C flower arranging, French, financial management.

I studied hard.

Not for fun. Just in case things went south, I wouldn't leave empty-handed.

I heard Jasmine and her senior boyfriend broke up. She even ended up working at one of Lawson's subsidiary companies.

If someday, Lawson remembered his "unattainable first love" and wanted a divorce, I needed to be ready.

Getting half his fortune was probably unrealistic, but I wanted as much as I could get.

And then I'd need to know how to manage it.

So yeah. I was busy.

When I got back from Vermont, Sophia showed up.

"Serena! Your unrequited love! Your first love is back! And he's loaded now!"

You married Lawson for the money, now you can dump him and marry Vincent!

"He never forgot you all these years! He still has feelings for you!"

Coincidentally, Lawson came home the same day I got back.

He heard every word.

He stood in the foyer, suit crisp, expression mild, eyes unreadable.

Sophia spun around, face instantly pale, scrambling to her feet with an awkward smile.

"Mr. Pierce! You're home I was just joking, Serena wouldn't really"

"I didn't take it seriously."

He said calmly, walking in. Still in his suit, he carried a gift box from his trip.

"Nor did I mind." He looked down, placing the box in front of me.

"You mentioned wanting that Hokkaido mille crepe. I brought it."

My eyes flickered, but my fingers stayed still.

My assistant reported my schedule to him. He knew I was back today and had come back specifically.

I knew his schedule was packed. Making time wasn't easy.

"Thanks."

I heard a quiet "Mhm" before he turned and headed upstairs.

I sat on the sofa, staring at the perfectly crafted cake, suddenly finding the thought of it tasteless.

Sophia bolted. She hadn't expected Lawson back early.

She hadn't expected he wasn't the "corporate drone husband" she imagined.

Actually, I knew too.

I knew he was good to me.

It was just that kind of good wasn't romantic, wasn't passionate, wasn't "heart-fluttering." It was too bland.

We were both intensely disciplined people. Two similar souls rarely spark.

The one place we clicked was... his body.

With clothes off, he was toned with defined abs like a top-tier male model. And at night, he was exceptionally vigorous.

Even in our most intimate moments, he controlled the rhythm, disciplined almost to a fault, yet leaving me no room for complaint.

The thought of splitting up someday brought an unexpected pang of loss.

Sophia's words meant nothing. Who could possibly compare to Lawson's wealth?

That "unrequited love" Vincent was just some guy who pursued me in college.

He chased me and I said no. But he told people I said yes.

He kept pestering. I flat-out told him I'd only marry rich.

Rumors are hard to kill. Somehow it morphed into him being my unrequited love. Ridiculous.

But the next day, Vincent actually contacted me.

The text was cautious and restrained: "Rennie, it's Vincent. Can we meet? Need to talk."

Rennie? Ugh.

I didn't reply.

But it did stir something inside.

Not love, but a sense that he was a ticking bomb.

If not handled carefully, he could become a hidden fuse in my marriage, blowing up my life someday.

I knew if the media caught wind of any "rekindled flame" drama, it would be disastrous for me.

I wasn't delusional. I knew if I wanted to keep this life, I couldn't slip up.

At least until Lawson brought up divorce, I certainly didn't want one.