My CEO Husband Was Once A Broke Bad Boy

I crossed over into a novel while doing the deed with my billionaire husband, one of the most powerful men in New York. [Another one trying to conquer the villain? Hilarious.] [And dressing like a slut? The villain likes pure, innocent girls! This is totally going to fail.] [Arthur Sterling will eventually become a ruthless underworld boss who kills without blinking an eye.] I looked at the floating comments drifting past my eyes, then looked down at myself. A black deep-V dress plunging to my navel, the hem so short it barely covered my butt. Arthur begged me to wear this last night. He was on his knees on the bed, his eyes completely red. "Wife, just wear it this once, I'll transfer ten million to your account." 1 I reluctantly put it on. And then he tossed me around until midnight. Now look what happened. I wake up, and the Arthur standing before me, fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, looks at me like he's seen a ghost. "Who are you?" I was furious. What? He pulls his pants up and suddenly doesn't know me?! "What do you mean who am I! I'm your wife!" The moment the words left my mouth, I was the one who froze. What kind of dump was this? Peeling paint, drafty windows, furniture that looked like it was scavenged from a dumpster. Where was my California King-sized luxury bed? Where was my bathtub that could fit five people? Arthur's face was right in front of me. No scar on his temple, no weathering from the years on his face—only the cold, sharp alertness of youth. I reached out, cupped his face, and inspected it left and right. "Hubby, did you sneak off and get Thermage done behind my back?" Which clinic did he go to? The results are suspiciously good! Before I knew it, Arthur slapped my hands away, his gaze sharp as a knife. "I'll ask you one more time—who are you?" 2 I calmed down. I took a closer look at the calendar on the wall. Five years ago. Which meant the guy standing in front of me was Arthur before he made his fortune. The dirt-poor Arthur. I took a deep breath, thinking of the Arthur from five years in the future. How glamorous he was then. Bodyguards followed him everywhere, crowds surrounded him at meetings, but when he came home, he was as obedient as a cat. When I threw tantrums, he coaxed me; when I whined, he spoiled me. If I said I wanted a star from the sky, he'd actually go buy me a meteorite fragment. Such a massive rock, sitting right in the middle of our living room. My heart ached just thinking about how much it cost. "Hubby, how much did this cost?" He was peeling an apple for me, not even looking up: "Not much." "What does 'not much' mean?" He thought about it: "Only about ten million, give or take." I almost passed out. "Are you crazy, Arthur?" He looked up at me, his eyes innocent. "Didn't you say you wanted a star?" I was stumped. "I just said that casually!" He smiled, offering the peeled apple to my mouth. "Even if you say it casually, I take it seriously." I looked at the eighteen-year-old boy in front of me now. I blinked and put on my standard, professional fake smile. "Little boy, let me ask you: how much money do you make a month right now?" 3 Arthur frowned: "None of your damn business." "Of course it's my business." I circled him, looking him up and down. "If you don't have money in the future, I'm not staying with you." Arthur let out a cold sneer and turned toward the bathroom. "Psycho." With lightning reflexes, I grabbed his towel. The towel dropped to the floor. The air froze for three seconds. Arthur's face turned visibly red all the way to the tips of his ears. "You!" I looked down, nodding in satisfaction. "Mhm, the size checks out. This is definitely my husband." [???????] [What the hell is this woman doing???] [LMAO, the villain just got completely exposed hahahaha] Arthur scrambled to pick up the towel and wrap it around himself, his eyes looking like he wanted to eat me alive. "What exactly are you trying to do!" I crossed my legs and sat on his creaky, broken bed. "I told you, I'm your wife." "You don't believe me? Then let me ask you: do you have a mole on your left butt cheek?" Arthur's expression shifted. I continued: "You like it when I put my legs on your right shoulder, don't you? "You love it most when we do it in front of the mirror, and you make me call you 'hubby,' and the moment I do, you..." "Enough!" Arthur cut me off, his voice cracking. He stared at me for a long time, finally asking through gritted teeth: "Are... are you really my future wife?" I nodded elegantly: "Mhm-hmm." "Then tell me, will I have money in the future?" I laughed. Is that even a question? "You'll be filthy rich." "How rich?" I thought about it: "Last month, you transferred five million dollars to me just because I said a new handbag looked nice." Arthur's eyes lit up. But he quickly masked his expression and let out a cold hmph. "So you only came to me for my money?" I paused. That was a good question. I didn't answer, instead asking him: "How much do you make a month?" Arthur was silent for a moment. "Five hundred." I almost laughed out loud. Five hundred? I normally spend more than five hundred just on a single lipstick. I stood up, walked right up to him, and poked him in the chest. "Little boy, right now you make five hundred bucks, and I'm still standing right here. "Tell me, what exactly am I after?" 4 Arthur was stunned. The floating comments went crazy: [Holy shit, this woman knows what she's doing] [The villain's heart rate is going up!] [Wait, wasn't she just acting super disgusted a minute ago???] Arthur was silent for a long time, then he turned his head away, his voice muffled. "You... put some clothes on first." I looked down at my deep-V dress. "What, feeling shy?" Arthur's ears were so red they looked like they were bleeding. [Ding— Villain Affection +10. Current Affection: 10] [WTF, what kind of chaotic strategy is this??] [Is this the legendary 'innocence is worthless in the face of sex appeal'?] [Hah. Men.] I don't know if Arthur believed me or not, but I stayed anyway. I batted my eyelashes and whined, wearing down all his resistance. Even though this dump didn't even have heating. Even though this broken bed was so hard it hurt my bones. Even though Arthur left early and came back late every day, leaving me an allowance of only ten dollars. Ten dollars! I held that crumpled bill, lost in thought. The last time I saw a physical ten-dollar bill was in my past life. It had been a long time since I spent such small denominations; it actually felt like a novelty. Before Arthur left, he gave me a look. "Spend it carefully." I pouted. Carefully? The word 'careful' doesn't exist in Maya Sterling's dictionary. 5 I went out with the ten dollars, walked around, and bought a boba tea. Seven dollars gone. Then I bought a slice of cake. Three dollars gone. On my way home, I passed by a menswear store and saw a sweater in the display window. I suddenly remembered that five years later, Arthur had an identical one. He bought that sweater himself. Once, I asked him: "When did you buy this one? It looks nice." He glanced down at it and said casually, "A long time ago. I just couldn't bear to throw it away." I didn't think much of it then. Now I suddenly understood. So this was when he bought it. I stood in front of the window, staring at it for a long time. I patted my pocket and realized I didn't have my black card. I pulled out my phone to call Arthur, only to remember this was five years ago—he didn't have my number yet, and I couldn't use Apple Pay. Whatever. I turned to leave, took two steps, and looked back. That sweater was light grey. Arthur would look really good in it. 6 When Arthur came home that night, I was curled up on the sofa, shivering. The broken house was drafty. Back at the estate, the heating was on throughout the entire mansion, and I could run around barefoot. I hadn't felt the sting of the cold in a very long time. He looked at the empty table. "You didn't eat dinner?" "I ate." "What did you eat?" "Boba and cake." Arthur's face darkened. "You call that food?" I was entirely justified. "That's what I usually eat." Arthur took a deep breath, turned around, and walked into that cramped, dingy kitchen. ... Ten minutes later, he brought out a bowl of noodles. It was just plain broth and noodles, with a fried egg on top. I looked at it with disgust. "That looks terrible. Even a dog wouldn't eat that." Arthur slammed the bowl down in front of me. "If you don't eat it, then starve." Then he went into the bathroom. I stared at that bowl of noodles for a long time. Finally, I picked it up and ate it anyway. Damn, it's actually really good. By the time Arthur came out, the bowl was empty. I was curled up on the sofa, pretending to be asleep. He stood there watching me for a while. Then, I felt a piece of clothing, still carrying body heat, draped over me. It was his jacket. A worn-out, faded, but very warm jacket. I secretly peeked open one eye. Arthur had his back to me, standing by the window. The moonlight hit him; his shoulders looked so thin it made my heart ache. [Affection +5. Current Affection: 15] [Conqueror, you actually tricked the villain into giving you his jacket!] [This is rare. The villain is actually softening up!] I ignored the comments. I just made a mental note. When we have money, I'll buy Arthur ten jackets. No, a hundred. 7 Days passed one by one. Arthur left early and came back late every day, and I had absolutely nothing to do all day. The floating comments started mocking me. [Is this conqueror actually going to do anything, or just lie around the house all day?] [Other conquerors are out there delivering warmth and care; this one just waits for the villain to come home and serve her.] [LMAO, she's definitely going to fail.] I ignored them. My life goal was to be Arthur's pampered canary anyway. What's wrong with lying around? My husband supports me; it's the natural order of things. But one day, as Arthur was leaving, I casually asked: "Where are you going?" "To work." "What kind of work?" He paused. "Construction site. Hauling bricks." I froze. Hauling bricks? I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. But Arthur had already left. That night, he came back very late. His hands were covered in bloody blisters. I saw them, but I didn't say anything. I just waited until he fell asleep, then secretly got up, dug out his ointment, and carefully applied it for him. As I rubbed it in, I thought of another pair of hands. Five years later, the hands that frequently held mine. The palms were full of calluses, the knuckles thick, but they were dry and warm. Every time I threw a tantrum, he would use those hands to gently hold me. Every time I was sad, he would use those hands to wipe away my tears. Once, I stared at his hands for a long time. "Hubby, why are your hands so rough?" He looked down at them: "From working." I frowned: "You're so rich and prestigious, what kind of work made them like this?" He just smiled and didn't answer. I didn't think much of it at the time. Now, I suddenly understood. It was from hauling bricks. Those calluses were born from these bloody blisters. As I applied the ointment, my nose suddenly started to sting. 8 I grew up in a single-parent household, moving from place to place with my mom. Because I didn't have a dad, I was often bullied. So, when I transferred schools, I deliberately built a persona of a wealthy heiress so no one would dare mess with me. Over time, I started deceiving even myself. Vain and materialistic. When Arthur first offered to be my sugar daddy, I agreed very quickly. It was just an exchange: I wanted money, he wanted my looks. Very fair. Compared to going hungry and being bullied, there was nothing to be ashamed of. But I never expected that Arthur wasn't born a wealthy heir. Arthur's brow was furrowed; he was sleeping very fitfully. I gently stroked his face. ... The next day, when Arthur woke up and saw the ointment applied to his hands, he froze. He shot me a look. I pretended not to notice, continuing to curl up on the sofa and play on my phone. Arthur didn't say anything. But before he left, he put a twenty-dollar bill on the table. Double the usual amount. [Affection +10. Current Affection: 25] [The villain seems... to care a little about this woman?] I rolled over. Duh. How could my husband not care about me? 9 I started trying to be a bit nicer to Arthur. "Arthur, I bought you a sweater!" I pulled out the gift, looking for praise. Arthur looked at the light grey sweater, then checked the price tag. "Sixty dollars?" "Yeah, looks good, right?" "Where did you get the money?" I was entirely justified: "The living expenses you gave me. I saved it up." Arthur was silent for a moment. "How long did you save for?" I thought about it: "About a week." "Then what did you eat for a week?" "The late-night takeout you brought back." Arthur's expression was incredibly complicated. Finally, he put the sweater on. It fit perfectly. I nodded in satisfaction: "Looks good." Arthur looked down at himself, then back at me. "You... why are you being so nice to me?" I looked at the eighteen-year-old Arthur standing in front of me. Wearing the sweater I bought, his ears were red, and his gaze was both awkward and soft. I froze for a second. Why? Because I'm your wife. But as the words reached my lips, I remembered something else. 10 In the first year of our marriage, I caught a fever once. Arthur happened to be out of town on business and couldn't make it back in time. Over the phone, his voice was frantic: "I'll have someone take you to the hospital." "No need, I already took some medicine." "Are you sure?" "I'm sure. Focus on your work." He was silent for a moment: "Wife, I'm sorry." I laughed: "Sorry for what?" "For not being there with you." "Oh, please, it's just a fever. Don't make a big deal out of it." He was still worried. The next day, I received a massive pile of deliveries. Fever reducers, thermometers, heating pads, and my favorite strawberry cake. He had someone send a whole box of them. Later, I found out he stayed up all night, constantly making calls, trying to find someone to take care of me. I asked him: "Was all that really necessary?" He hugged me: "Yes." "Anything involving you is necessary." I suddenly understood a little. The reason he was so good at caring for someone was that he used to have absolutely nothing. Because he never had anything, he treasured what he had even more. I reached out and pinched his cheek. "Because you're my future husband. "You're going to be very rich one day. I'm being good to you now, so you can support me later." Arthur's expression stiffened. Then he smiled. The smile was a bit bitter. "Okay." "Then I'll work hard, to support you later." [Affection +10. Current Affection: 35] [Wait, why does the villain look a bit hurt?] I didn't care. I was telling the truth, anyway.

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