Seeing Trevor ignored her, Layla kept making up.

“So sorry! It was my fault to sell the things you bought without asking. So, I made a full meal to make it up to you. Come on, don’t be petty,” Layla sincerely apologized. Though Layla was stubborn at times, growing up in a household like hers had taught her the art of knowing when to back down. And upon reflection, she realized she’d crossed the line.

Trevor was the kind of man who responded better to softness than defiance. With Layla showing goodwill, his anger began to subside. Since she went through the trouble of cooking, he figured he might as well give it a try. If it was terrible, he still had the restaurant reservation as a backup plan.

On the table were sweetened tomatoes, vinegar-dressed potato slivers, sautéed bean sprouts, blistered peppers, and tofu-cabbage soup.

Trevor’s face darkened when he saw the all-vegetarian spread. “This is your idea of a full meal? What am I, a rabbit?”

“Veggie dishes can be great too! Plus, my cooking is top-notch. These dishes are a gourmet experience—you just have to try!” Layla urged as she handed him a pair of chopsticks.

Trevor tasted each dish one by one, and to his surprise, they were quite good. He hadn’t expected this from her. Maybe, just maybe, home-cooked meals wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Not bad,” Trevor grumbled, reluctant to offer too much praise. He wasn’t the type to hand out compliments easily.

“Of course, I’m a master chef!” Layla immediately became proud of herself, with the dimples on her face.

“Master chef? Look at you bragging after making a few side dishes!” Trevor teased, employing a bit of reverse psychology. He was curious to see how far her cooking skills went—and if she could handle more than just vegetables.

“I was out of money! A lot of things were too expensive,” Layla pouted.

“Oh? How much did you spend today?” Trevor asked, amused. He usually paid attention to stock prices, not grocery prices.

“Eleven yuan and ninety cents. That’s everything—dishes bought and cooked by me, all to apologize to you. You’re not going to hold a grudge, right?” she asked cautiously.

“You spent that little on me? Do you know how much I’m worth?” Trevor scoffed.

“It may not seem like much to you, but it’s everything to me. I only had twelve yuan to my name—coins I’d saved. I couldn’t even afford bottled water, but I used up all I had to cook this meal. That’s gotta mean more than just money, right?” Layla fished a one-cent coin from her pocket and twirled it between her fingers.

Her words stirred something in Trevor. Despite the many lavish meals he’d enjoyed in his life, this simple meal—funded by someone’s entire savings—felt oddly meaningful. And he found that he liked the way it made him feel.

By the time they finished, every dish was wiped clean. Layla swiftly cleared the table, washed the dishes, and plopped onto the couch to watch her favorite cheesy TV drama.

After handling a few emails on his computer, Trevor sat down next to Layla and pulled her into his arms. He took out a bank card and handed it to her. “Here, take this. It’s got about a million on it. Not much—just some leftover pocket money. Might as well let you spend it. The PIN is my birthday.”

“Huh?” Layla blinked in surprise.

“What’s with the look? If you ever try to sell anything I give you online again, I won’t go easy on you.” The memory of the earlier chat still annoyed Trevor.

“I won’t do it again, I promise! So... we’re good now, right?” Layla asked cautiously, holding the card like it might disappear.

“Since you went all in with your ‘life savings,’ I’ll let it slide this time.” Trevor smirked, his irritation fading now that he’d had dinner and given her the card.

While flipping through TV channels aimlessly with the remote, Trevor said lazily, “Now that you have some money, stop buying those cheap vegetables. Just buy whatever tastes good—don’t bother saving. If the money runs out, tell me. Or I’ll just have my secretary top it off with a few more million.”

“How long would it even take to spend that much just on groceries?” Layla murmured, calculating in her head. It sounded like a lifetime's supply of food.

“Idiot, I didn’t mean you have to blow it all on groceries. You’re my wife now—you can’t be looking shabby. Go shopping, buy whatever you like, but no cheap knockoffs.” Trevor’s voice sharpened slightly at the thought of Layla using his card to buy ten-dollar T-shirts. That would drive him insane.

“You’ll be starting school soon, too. Dervay Saints Academy is an elite school, and you’ll need to spend money there. No scrimping.” Although Trevor disliked students showing off their wealth, he didn’t want his wife being mocked by others either.

“School’s starting?” Layla groaned, visibly reluctant. She had never liked school and thought that once she graduated high school, she’d be free to work. But Trevor had interfered, and now she was being forced back into the classroom. Her head was spinning with dread.

Trevor glanced at his phone’s calendar. “You’ve got one more week of freedom. Registration is next Wednesday. I’ve arranged for Frank Evans to take you.”

“Him? Will he even want to? I can go by myself,” Layla muttered. She’d always handled school stuff alone—Frank Evans had never cared about her before.

“He’ll go. He has no choice.” Trevor’s tone was cold. He had already given Frank Evans strict orders, and the man had reluctantly agreed. After looking into Layla’s upbringing through Yao Sheng, Trevor knew everything about her troubled past. This time, Frank Evans was going to take responsibility, whether he liked it or not.

If not for the need to hide their relationship, Trevor might have personally taken Layla to school. Although he could use his influence with the school administration, who would assume they had some familial connection, frequent school visits would inevitably invite gossip.

“I’ve already spoken to the headmaster and arranged for you to join the Chinese Department. When you attend class, pay attention. If I hear you misusing idioms or speaking nonsense again, you know what will happen,” Trevor said sternly, recalling Layla’s earlier mishap when she mistakenly referred to “turning waste into treasure” as an idiom. He could almost hear the crows flying over his head.

“But I’m just not good at studying. I’ve never been cut out for school.” Layla pouted. Academics had never been her strong suit, and with her family’s indifference, she had barely scraped by with a disastrous exam score.

“I don’t care if you’re lazy or slow. I’ve enrolled you in the best school, and you’ll give it your all. I’ll be checking on your progress regularly, so don’t test my patience,” Trevor ordered, leaving no room for negotiation. He had excelled in school himself and wouldn’t tolerate his wife being anything less than competent.

“Can’t I skip the whole elite school thing and learn a trade instead? Maybe cooking or beauty therapy?” Layla asked tentatively. She’d once dreamed of working to save up for vocational training, hoping to one day open her own business.

“I already told you—Dervay Saints Academy, Chinese Department. No exceptions.” Trevor gripped her soft chin lightly, exasperated by her stubbornness. Why did she always resist him?

“Fine, I got it...” Layla knew there was no use arguing.

Trevor leaned in and kissed her soft lips, silencing her protests. After all, today was Valentine’s Day—and he didn’t want to spend the evening in conflict.

““By the way, the meal you made tonight wasn’t bad. You’ve earned yourself a reward,” Trevor said warmly, his usual coldness replaced by rare affection.

He had planned to give her a gift for the holiday, though his earlier frustration had delayed it.

“What reward?” Layla’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“What do you want?” Trevor raised his eyebrows.

“I want... Can I not go to school?” Layla asked with a pleading tone.

“No way. You’re going to school, no arguments. If you skip even one class, I’ll make you make up for it in bed—with interest. Ten times over. Trust me, you won’t be able to walk afterward,” Trevor teased, half serious and half playful. He wasn’t about to let her wiggle her way out of school.

With a smirk, he pulled out a small velvet box. “Here—your gift.”

Layla opened the box to find an exquisite watch inside. Trevor watched her reaction, amused. “A limited-edition Patek Philippe. Do you like it?”

“I love it!” Layla replied quickly, though the truth was she didn’t care much for luxury brands. To her, a watch felt redundant—after all, everyone just used their phones to check the time these days. The pricey Patek Philippe would likely end up forgotten in some drawer.