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Gemma 's POV.

I'm living with Luke now, and his Hästens mattress is definitely more comfortable than the one I bought from IKEA.

But I'm not just staying at his place for free—I've started buying cookbooks to make meals for him.

After tasting a few of my dishes, Luke says, "I guess our hourly worker still has her value. Let's call her back."

It's my first day back at work since we made our relationship public, and I've been bombarded with questions. Things like: "When did you and Luke get together?", "Who made the first move?", "What did you two do during those days when you both took time off?", and "When are you getting married?"

All the attention is on me because no one dares to mess with the boss.

I'm not happy about it. Not only do I feel my privacy is being invaded, but working under the title of "the boss's girlfriend" makes it hard to function normally.

When I get home, I tell Luke about this, and he tells me to bear with it for a few more days—it'll all be resolved soon.

"There's something more important right now—supper," he says.

But when Luke says "supper." he doesn't mean just any meal; he means the last supper.

He drives me to a quiet, beautiful villa in the suburbs. The house has a historical charm to it, but I nervously swallow.

"I need to use the bathroom," I say.

"There's one inside."

"I don't want to have dinner with your parents."

"You can just watch us eat then."

"I think I might be falling for someone else."

"No problem," Luke smirks. "As long as your body stays in my bed, your heart can be elsewhere."

Luke wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his parents' house.

The garden is filled with hydrangeas, their fragrance filling the air.

As I try to resist, I suddenly notice the chubby silhouette of a man in the corner of the yard.

I look closer and realize—it's our company's CEO, Luke's dad, hanging laundry.

Unbelievable.

While I stand there stunned, Luke offers an explanation: "My dad handles most of the household chores."

"No servants?" I ask, confused.

"If we had servants, what would he even do around here?" Luke replies.

The CEO, hearing our conversation, walks over with an empty laundry basket in his arms. He looks at Luke, then at me, and says with a pity expression, "Gemma, you forgave him so quickly?"

I don't know how to respond.

"Dad," Luke pauses, "I've got to ask—am I really your biological son?"

The CEO smirks coldly, "You'll have to ask your mother about that."

Luke pulls me into the house.

In the living room, I meet Luke's mother, and I finally understand why the CEO has such a low status at home.

Luke's mom is stunning—she has wavy brown hair, a tall and elegant figure, and she looks like a Hollywood movie star.

Time has not only spared her looks but has added a touch of mature grace.

Luke pulls me to her and briefly introduces me: "Mom, this is Gemma, your daughter-in-law."

Luke's mother glances at me, gives a slight nod, and her first words are, "Let's go shopping together someday, and we'll use the men's credit cards."

Then she turns around to grab something.

I ask Luke, "What does your mom mean by that?"

"Can't you tell?" Luke chuckles. "She likes you. She's already brought you into her camp."

Luke's mom comes back and gives me a diamond bracelet as a gift for our first meeting.

I tell her it's too expensive, but she puts it on my wrist, saying, "Jewelry should belong to beautiful women."

Suddenly, I feel more at ease.

As we chat in the living room, the CEO is busy cutting fruit, pouring coffee, tidying up, and preparing dinner.

It's only when we sit down to eat that he joins us at the table.

"When are you coming back to headquarters?" the CEO asks Luke. "The New York branch is stable now. You should return and help me manage things."

"I was just about to bring that up, Dad," Luke says, wiping his mouth. "What do you think about Gemma taking my position after I leave?"

My spoon clatters into my bowl. "Me?"

The CEO glances at me and smiles. "Gemma's resume is impressive—she has a master's degree from a prestigious university and has been the sales champion for three years straight. From her education to her work experience, she's got what it takes."

"Then it's settled," Luke turns to me. "This way, no one will dare gossip about you anymore."

And just like that, everything is perfectly resolved.

I originally thought that once Luke moved to another branch, the gossip would die down. After all, no one at the company knew he was the CEO's son.

Slowly, I raise my hand and softly ask, "But, Mr. CEO, you're still so young. Are you really planning to retire so soon?"

"I'm busy with house chores. I don't have time," he replies.

"This dish is a bit salty today, darling," Luke's mother suddenly says.

"Really?" The CEO takes a bite, picks up the dish, and says, "I'll add some sugar to fix it." Then he rushes to the kitchen.

I stand there, dumbfounded.

What does it feel like to become the boss of a car dealership? I'm incredibly busy now, just like Luke used to be, flying around for business trips. Every day when I wake up, I meet with car manufacturers to purchase vehicles, manage inventory, and analyze market trends and changes. I also work with influencers and celebrities for advertising promotions. Team management is crucial, too. Even though I was the top salesperson before, there are always people who think I got my position because of my relationship with the CEO's son. So, I have to work twice or three times as hard to earn their respect.

And then there are the customers—user experience is always a priority.

Every day I'm exhausted, and all I want to do when I get home is collapse on the bed and never get up again.

Half-asleep, I feel Luke kiss me on the lips, and I hear him say, "Have dinner before you sleep, Gemma."

I half-open my eyes to look at him, then close them again. "I suddenly have a question."

"What is it?"

"Do you even love me, or did you just think your family business was short-staffed and pursued me to make me your girlfriend?"

Luke laughs, "If you don't want to work, you don't have to. You can stay at home like my mom, and I'll take care of you."

"Forget it." I sit up abruptly, rubbing my head. "Let's eat. I've got a financial report to review afterward."

My salary is now five times what it was before, and my mortgage is almost paid off. Only a fool would give up such a high-paying job. Once I pay off the mortgage, I plan to buy another small apartment in New York. Keep buying, keep paying off mortgages, and rent them all out—become a wealthy landlady and achieve my life's dream.

As summer fades, autumn arrives.

This fall, I encountered a bit of a problem.

A VIP client I've met a few times has been aggressively pursuing me.

He's the son of a real estate company's owner, two years younger than me, and he's been sending large bouquets of roses to the dealership every day.

I tell him I already have a boyfriend, and he says, "So what? You're not married yet. It's fair competition."

He keeps sending flowers and even waits for me outside the dealership after work in his Lamborghini.

Today, the temperature dropped, windy and rainy. But to show off, he arrived in a convertible.

The dealership employees are watching the scene from inside, laughing quietly. I tell them to get back to work and take an umbrella out to him.

But the umbrella caused an issue.

His family's real estate company is somewhat famous in the industry, with wide connections. He immediately posted a photo of the umbrella on social media, adding a heart emoji and saying, "You still care about me, Gemma. So touched! [Heart][Heart]~"

When I get home after work, I find Luke sitting on the couch, his face cold.

"What's this about?" He throws his phone on the table, the screen showing a picture of that umbrella.

"You two... know each other?" I ask quietly.

"Mm-hmm," Luke crosses his arms. "Why did you give him an umbrella? Do you think it's a pity for such a good-looking guy to get wet?"

I almost want to laugh at what he said, but I hold it in and respond seriously, "I don't think it's a pity for him to get wet."

Luke's expression softens slightly.

I continue, "I just think it's apity for someone so young to get soaked."

Luke jumps up and storms off to the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I find it even funnier now. I follow him, open the door, and see him lying on his side on the bed.

I take off my shoes, climb into bed, and wrap my arms around his back.

Still angry, Luke scoots closer to the edge of the bed.

However far he moves, I move with him, staying pressed against him.

Finally, Luke can't take it anymore. He sits up abruptly and glares at me, "I'm about to fall off the bed!"

I laugh again, "How about we just get married?"

Luke freezes in place, half-open mouth making a questioning sound, "Ah?"

"I said, since you're so worried, why don't we get married?" I repeat.

Luke bursts out laughing and suddenly tackles me onto the bed. "You said it!"

"I said it."

I thought he might do something next, but instead, he lets go of me and starts rummaging through the desk drawer.

I'm thinking, "Condoms aren't in there; they're in the bedside table."

But he pulls out his ID and grins like an idiot, "Tomorrow morning at 8 a.m., let's go register."

The weather is clearing up after the rain.