After My Boyfriend Became Rich

Luke was drunk.

He called me in a drunken stupor, asking me to pick him up at "Blueprint".

Blueprint was a famous bar in Southport and Luke's recent frequent haunt.

After several days of business trips, and just getting off a plane, I sighed but still drove across half the town to pick him up.

The bar's private room was filled with swirling smoke.

As I entered, pairs of eyes looked at me with ill intent.

Luke was slumped on the sofa, uncomfortably pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly very drunk.

Someone asked him, "This girl is hot. She’s yours?"

Luke glanced at me and said impatiently, "She's a decent girl. She came here to pick me up. Don't mess with her."

I felt a warmth in my heart.

Ever since his wealthy parents acknowledged him, he rarely defended me in public.

It seemed he still cared for me, his girlfriend.

Someone else asked, "Your girlfriend? Haven't heard you mention her before, and she’s so pretty."

Luke instinctively retorted, "Don’t talk nonsense. She's the project manager, my subordinate."

His words stung me.

We had been dating for almost five years.

It turned out that in Luke's eyes, we were merely superior and subordinate.

I helped Luke into the car, where he slumped into the passenger seat.

"So the project in France is completed," he asked, all business.

"Yes," I replied.

The car fell into silence, the atmosphere turning awkward.

Luke placed his hand on my thigh, caressing it, then gradually exploring further.

"How about coming over to your place tonight? I’m free tomorrow."

I certainly knew what he meant.

I didn't know when our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend became only evident in these moments.

At graduation, I had the opportunity to join a global Fortune 500 company but chose to work at Blueprint Industries to help Luke.

But since then, our relationship seemed to sour.

Luke really seemed to treat me as a subordinate, visiting me only occasionally when needed.

Frustration enveloped me, mixing with the bitterness in my heart.

As Luke’s hand continued its exploration, his face wore a meaningful smile.

I turned to look at him and saw no trace of myself in his eyes.

"No, I have to work tomorrow."

I pressed his hand down.

He looked at me intently for a moment, as if confirming my mood.

"Just now at the bar, when I said you were my subordinate, it was only..."

"Just to protect me. You were recently acknowledged by the White family, your position is unstable, and Neil might target you," I said softly, explaining his earlier remark.

"Exactly. I knew you would understand," he said.

Luke patted my hand and drifted off to sleep, his head lolling to the side.

The silence in the car deepened.

It was like the inexplicably strange relationship between Luke and me now.