I’m a professional at making trouble, and Silas is a professional at cleaning it up. This time, I took his Bentley out for a spin and ended up rear-ending a Porsche. Now, I’m standing in the corner of our penthouse, facing the wall in a classic "time-out." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Even if you’re my girl, Piper, every mistake carries a sentence." My heart hammered against my ribs. I know that when the glasses come off, a "private session" is coming. But when he started unbuckling his watch... I knew I was truly done for. Is it too late to run? 1 Calling my husband when I’m in trouble—it’s our version of foreplay. Silas Miller is Chicago’s most formidable defense attorney. He’s never lost a case. Whenever he appears as a legal analyst on the news, he gains a million female fans overnight. He’s the ultimate "Silver Fox" in training—sharp features, eyes like cold flint, and a presence that demands the room. And yet, this powerful man is completely helpless against me. I’d just gotten my license and decided to sneak his Bentley Continental out for a grocery run. I was craving a proper Maine lobster clambake and wanted to get the ingredients myself. My driving skills, however, were not up to the task. I slammed right into a Porsche 911 that was merging into my lane. The owner of the Porsche hopped out, swearing. He looked at his crumpled bumper and marched over, pointing a finger at me. "Do you even have eyes, lady?" "Get out of the car! We’re going to talk about how you’re paying for this. Do you hear me? Out!" He looked aggressive. Terrifying. With trembling hands, I dialed Silas. "What’s wrong, Piper?" The sound of his deep, resonant voice always made me feel safe. My voice cracked. "Hey... Silas? I got into a wreck." Silence for two seconds. Then: "Excuse me, everyone. There’s an emergency at home. The meeting is adjourned." I could hear the rustle of him grabbing his suit jacket. Even in a rush, he didn't forget to soothe me: "Get out of the car, stand on the sidewalk where it’s safe, and wait for me." I stood by the curb, looking like a kicked puppy, as the Porsche owner continued his tirade. Soon, a black SUV pulled up. Silas stepped out, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit—straight from the office. He walked to me, draped his jacket over my shoulders, and I immediately tried to burrow into his chest. He frowned, straightening me up. "Stand straight. I’ll deal with you later." The Porsche owner, recognizing him, suddenly changed his tone to pure flattery. "Mr. Miller! I didn't realize... I mean, I thought the car looked familiar. No worries, really. My insurance will handle it. Don't worry about a thing!" There isn't a mess Silas can’t fix. After handling the scene, he tucked me into the passenger seat. He didn't say a word the whole way home. The tension was suffocating. I followed him into the penthouse, head down, and went straight to my usual corner for a "time-out." Usually, I’d play the victim card, call him "too controlling," and wait for him to apologize. But this time, he was genuinely fuming. He stood behind me, arms crossed. "How many times have I told you not to drive alone? Why didn't you listen?" "I wanted to make that lobster dinner you mentioned... I wanted to do something nice..." My voice got smaller and smaller. When he didn't respond, I turned around and grabbed his waist, crying. "I messed up. Do whatever you want to me..." He didn't yell. He just reached out and gently tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "If you want to cook, let the chef handle the prep. You just need to be happy." "But I’m happy when I’m doing things for you!" Gosh, I felt so exposed. Even after all these years, his gentle side still made me blush. Finally, a faint smile tugged at his lips. The crisis was over. Or so I thought. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling him like a cat. If Silas were a cat, he’d be a Maine Coon—imposing and fierce-looking, but incredibly soft inside. "Even so," he whispered, "you need to learn your lesson." His long fingers reached up and removed his gold-rimmed glasses. His warm breath was against my lips, his dark eyes glowing with a dangerous intent. My heart skipped a beat. When the glasses come off, it's a kiss. When the watch comes off... my legs go weak. I turned and bolted for my studio. "Silas!" "Piper!" He called out, sounding both amused and exasperated. I slammed the studio door. "I have... uh... work! Commissions to finish!" Through the door, his voice was smooth as aged whiskey. "Be a good girl. You can finish tomorrow." "No!" At this moment, I felt like a lamb that had just realized the wolf was hungry. 2 I was huddling under my duvet, refusing to listen to Silas's coaxing from the other side. I will never admit that I was eventually lured out by the promise of late-night pizza. "You’re a bully, Mr. Miller," I grumbled. "I should sue you for emotional distress." Silas chuckled, hugging me from behind. "Go ahead. I'll even write the brief for you." I can never win an argument with him. He always has that calm, detached lawyer persona. The more I get riled up, the more he looks at me with that infuriatingly indulgent, doting gaze. "Buy me a bag," I demanded. "The new leather one." I needed to make his wallet bleed a little to balance my soul. Plus, after a night of "punishment," I deserved compensation. "Another bag? The repair bill for the Bentley is coming out of your allowance." I spun around, tears still fresh on my face. "What? Why? I said I was sorry!" "Yes, you say it every time. And every time, you do it again." "But you already punished me!" "Clearly, it wasn't memorable enough. From now on, I’m putting you on a daily budget. Twenty dollars a day. If you’re good, I might take you shopping on the weekend. Twenty is plenty for coffee and lunch." How can such a sexy mouth say such cold words? "Twenty dollars? I can't even get brunch with my friends for twenty!" Silas ignored my protest, propping his head on one hand and closing his eyes. I grabbed his leg. "Babe, don't be like this. Give me a monthly flat rate? Five thousand? Please... just to keep me afloat..." Silas opened one eye, looking shocked. He was clearly holding back a laugh. "...Are you sure?" "Yes! Five thousand! Deal? Don't forget to wire it!" I was ecstatic. I really am a genius. Sometimes, you have to negotiate for your own interests! Silas pulled me into his arms, letting out a long sigh. "I really worry about you going out alone. You can't even do basic math. Someone could sell you for parts, and you'd probably help them count the money." Hey! I’m not that bad. 3 Early the next morning, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Miller, staged a surprise visit. When I heard noise in the living room, I groaned. "...Is that your mom?" Silas threw on a robe. "I'll go check. Go back to sleep." Through the cracked door, I heard them talking. "Is Piper still in bed? I brought some bone broth. She needs to drink it while it’s hot." "She’s exhausted, Mom. Let her sleep." Mrs. Miller lowered her voice. "You two shouldn't overwork yourselves. You’re young; you should be focusing on starting a family." !!! If only she knew why I was exhausted... I hopped out of bed, barefoot, listening at the door to see how Silas would handle the "baby talk." "She’s still young. There’s no rush." Young? I’m twenty-two! He’s just using me as a shield. Mrs. Miller wasn't buying it. "Twenty-two isn't that young. Besides, you’re almost thirty. If you have a baby now, I can help you look after it." Silas sounded like he was losing the battle. I couldn't take it anymore, so I opened the door. "Mom! You should have called, I would have come to pick you up!" I gave her a big hug. She’s a classic "tough exterior, soft heart" woman. She grumbled about us being dramatic, but she was beaming. "Oh, my Piper is finally awake. Drink this broth, honey. It's for your health." I caught Silas’s eye; he looked relieved. I downed the entire bowl of heavy-duty wellness broth and showed her the empty bottom. "All gone!" Silas looked at his own bowl of "Super-Recovery Tonic" and grimaced. "Mom, you don't need to brew this anymore. Last time, I got a nosebleed from all the 'energy' it gave me." "I adjusted the recipe this time. Less ginseng. Just drink it." Silas hates medicinal-tasting things. I grabbed his bowl and downed it before he could stop me. I let out a loud burp that smelled like herbs. "I actually... hic... love this stuff..." Mrs. Miller patted my hand. "Piper is always the good one." Under the table, Silas squeezed my hand. I winked at him. I got you. When she left, she left us with a mountain of ingredients and instructions to "build up our strength." I nodded obediently. But as soon as the door closed, blood started dripping from my nose. Drip. Drip. Silas cursed softly, grabbing tissues and pinching my nose. "I’m telling her to stop the deliveries." "It’s fine. She’s retired; she just needs to feel needed. We just have to understand." I looked up at his handsome face. He smiled. "You little dork." 4 While Silas was at work, I finally met up with my best friend, Chloe. We’d met at an art gallery. She’d married a wealthy tech heir and was living the full socialite life. When I told her Silas had limited my allowance to five thousand a month, she nearly choked on her latte. "No way. Silas Miller is that stingy? Wait, are you a math hater? Twenty dollars a day is six hundred a month. He offered you six hundred, and you 'negotiated' him up to five thousand?" She looked at me like I was insane. Silas had laughed for an hour about the same thing last night. I just graduated and haven't started my career yet, and my book royalties haven't kicked in. I’m broke. I’d asked a marketing expert to help me find clients for my custom illustrations, but he needed a down payment. If I’d taken the twenty dollars a day, it would have taken me months to start my business. So, losing a few hundred dollars in the long run was worth the "time" I bought. Chloe nodded slowly. "Your love for money is truly a race against time." I shrugged, continuing my sketch. "A girl’s gotta eat." I finished the commission and checked my watch. "I have to go home and cook. Silas has been working late; I’m going to drop off some food at the firm." "Aww, no shopping?" I pinched her cheek. "When I’m a famous illustrator, I’ll buy the first round." 5 It took half the day, but I finally finished the meal prep and the "special" stew. When I got to Miller & Associates, it was lunch hour. The associates were all eating at their desks. "Hey, guys! I made way too much, come grab some!" Leo, a junior associate, beamed at me. "Piper! Thank God. I’ve missed your cooking." He reached for a container and stuffed a piece of braised beef into his mouth. "Incredible!" Silas heard the commotion and stepped out of his office. His tired face broke into a smile the moment he saw me. "I knew it was you." "Whoa! Boss, check this out! This is some high-grade 'stamina' stew!" Leo had already opened the container of Silas’s special tonic. Silas’s face went dark. "Is your work done, Leo? Looking for some overtime?" Leo snapped to attention, trying not to laugh as he handed the container back to Silas. "My bad, Boss. Take care of yourself." "Piper, in my office. Now." I followed him in. He looked at the "stamina" ingredients in the stew with a flat expression. "You think I need this?" "No! No, no!" I waved my hands. "Your mom said it helps with... fatigue..." My head dropped. "Hmm. And then?" He was clearly enjoying my embarrassment. I sighed. "If you don't like it, I’ll throw it out." Silas quirked a smile and downed the whole thing in one go. "Fine. But don't you dare start crying later tonight." !!! I did it again. I walked right into my own trap. 6 Silas gets lost in his work. Seeing him so focused, I didn't want to disturb him. He has a small lounge in his office with a daybed. I laid down and accidentally drifted off. In my sleep, I felt the bed sink. A warm body pressed against me, pulling me into a hug. My dreams shifted into a nightmare. I was opening a door to find blood everywhere. The metallic scent of iron was overwhelming. I ran to the bedroom, tripping over a rug. I looked up to see my parents on the floor, their eyes vacant. "NO!" I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. "Another nightmare?" Silas immediately pulled me into his chest, his large hand rubbing my back in a soothing rhythm. I was shaking. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent—the only thing that made me feel safe. "I saw that day again..." Silas paused, his hand never stopping its rhythmic patting. "Don't be afraid. It’s over. Garrett is dead." Even hearing that name made my skin crawl. Silas and I met because of that man. Because of that man, I fell into an abyss of darkness. It all started five years ago, with the infamous "Vance Family Murders." 7 Five years ago, I was seventeen, a junior in high school. My school had organized a late-night study session. That session saved my life. A man named Frank Vance had broken into our house. When my parents caught him, he killed them. But he didn't leave. He saw my photo on the desk and waited in the shadows for me to come home. When I opened the door and saw the blood and the man standing behind the curtain, I ran. I ran until I found a neighbor who called the police. But the trial was a mess. Frank Vance denied everything. He claimed it was a burglary gone wrong, that my parents had attacked him first, and he’d acted in self-defense. "Liar! My parents were the most peaceful people I knew!" It was hopeless. I was wandering the streets of Chicago when I saw a poster of Silas Miller. He looked so young, so sharp, like a wolf in a suit. I used every connection I had just to get a meeting with him. I didn't expect much. His fees were astronomical, and he was notoriously picky about cases. But he agreed instantly. We won. Frank Vance was sentenced to death. 8 Even though we won, I was an orphan. Silas was only twenty-four then. He stood at my door, backlit by the sun, looking like an angel who had accidentally wandered into the human world. "Come home with me." I stepped out of my dark corner and took his hand. For the first time, I didn't feel alone. I moved into his apartment. I took the master bedroom; he took the study. He worked constantly. The trauma had caused my grades to plummet. I was terrified to show him my report card. I stood outside his study, shaking. I expected disappointment. But it never came. He just looked at my mistakes and walked me through them, step by step. "It’s okay. Just do your best. No pressure." Week after week, my cold, broken heart began to thaw. Every time I saw him, my heart would race—not out of fear, but something much more dangerous. But he seemed to be keeping his distance on purpose. So, I started avoiding him. I refused his tutoring. I tried to kill the feelings I shouldn't have. Depression hit hard. I messed up my college entrance exams and missed out on my dream school. But that year, I turned eighteen. I didn't need a guardian anymore. Silas noticed my withdrawal. When I packed my bags to move out, he blocked the door. "Don't go." I couldn't look at him. "I’ve bothered you long enough. You should have your own life." He grabbed my suitcase. "Don't be ridiculous." "I’m serious." I tried to pull the suitcase away, but he held on tight. I looked up at him, defiant, and was suddenly silenced by a kiss. It was my first kiss. It was his, too. 9 Silas pulled me out of the abyss in his own way. He always said, "You don't need to do anything. Just be happy." Slowly, I became the girl I am now—cheerful, a bit of a brat, and very clingy. I love depending on him, even for things I can do myself. Like, I can open a package with my bare teeth, but if he’s there, I "can’t even open a water bottle." I can dance in five-inch heels, but if he’s there, I "can’t walk another step," just so he’ll carry me home. Depending on him makes him feel needed. "What would you do without me?" He’d say, his eyes full of pride and satisfaction. I’d hug him and retort, "What would you do without me?" I clean the house until it sparkles. I make the best stew. I wash and iron his shirts perfectly. He never knows where his clothes are without me. I even lay out his socks. I made his life seamless. He finally admitted defeat: "I guess I’m the one who can’t live without you." Being needed is a wonderful thing. Looking in the mirror now, at my healthy glow, I can barely remember the broken girl crying in the corner of a classroom. When I woke up the next morning, Silas was already awake, dark circles under his eyes. "You were talking in your sleep again. Calling for your parents." I stroked his cheek. "I’m sorry. I didn't let you rest." "Don't be silly. I’m taking the day off. Let’s go visit them." He’s always like this—tender and perceptive. We drove to the cemetery. The wild flowers were in bloom. I stood before my parents’ grave, holding Silas’s arm. "Mom, Dad, don't worry. Silas has kept me well-fed and happy. I’m doing great." Silas pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. Everything was perfect. 10 Silas dropped me off at home before heading back to the office for a call. "Go ahead, I’m fine. I’ll just rest at home." He hesitated, so I squeezed his hand. "Really, I’m okay!" "Fine. I'll drop you at the gate." I waved goodbye. As I turned, I almost walked into someone. "Sorry! Did I step on you?" The man didn't answer. He just shook his head. My skin prickled. I tried to walk faster toward the building. But he didn't stop. He followed me. The faster I walked, the closer he got. Just as I was about to yell for the security guard, he caught up. A cold, hard knife point pressed into my waist. "You know what to do," he whispered. I looked at the empty security booth and swallowed hard. I walked toward the parking garage. "What... what do you want?" "To the garage. Drive your car." Silas’s Bentley was parked right there, freshly repaired. The man forced me into the driver's seat and sat in the passenger side, the knife still against my side. "Who are you? If it’s money, I have cash in my bag..." His eyes narrowed. He looked unstable. "I don't want money! I want Silas Miller to defend me. I hit someone. I don't want to go to jail..." I swallowed. "Hit someone? Was it bad?" "They didn't die from the hit. I had to finish the job with a knife." "They... they’re dead?" "Duh! Why else would I be here? Call Silas. Tell him to save me! Or I’ll leave him with a corpse!" "Okay, okay, don't be impulsive. You look like you come from a good family. If you have money, Silas can help..." He seemed to calm down slightly. I continued, "Silas is stubborn, but he listens to me. I'll talk to him." "Call him now." I dialed Silas, but it went to voicemail. He was in a meeting. The man snapped. He told me to drive out of the complex. The roads got more and more deserted. I didn't know where he was taking me, but I knew I couldn't wait much longer. Seeing a late-night taco stand ahead, I made a choice. I yanked the steering wheel and slammed the Bentley straight into a utility pole. The world went blurry for a second. I didn't hesitate; I unbuckled my seatbelt and bolted out of the car. People from the taco stand rushed over. I grabbed a stranger and told them to call 911. When Silas arrived, it was the first time I’d ever seen him look panicked. I looked at him, breathless. "I’m sorry. I crashed the car again..." He pulled me into a hug so tight I thought my ribs would snap. "Piper," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Nothing is more important than your life." 11 The man was caught. He begged Silas to defend him, to cover up the crime. But Silas Miller doesn't work that way. Silas was wracked with guilt. He spent the whole day preparing the prosecution’s files. "I’m going to make sure he rots in prison." I rubbed his palm. "Hey, look at me. I’m okay." "If something had happened... I would never have forgiven myself." Silas is that kind of man. He can tease me, but if anyone else touches me, he’ll make them pay tenfold. Since I had some minor injuries, Silas dragged me to the hospital for a full checkup. Mrs. Miller arrived and smacked Silas’s arm. "I told you to be more flexible, but you keep making enemies! Don't drag my Piper into this!" Silas stood there and took it. I felt bad for him. "Mom, he’s not being inflexible. He’s being a man of principle. That’s why I love him." She laughed, giving Silas a look. "Only Piper would spoil you like this." Well, he’s my husband. Of course I’m going to spoil him. In a world full of corruption, Silas’s integrity is his brightest light. As his wife, I wasn't going to let him down. I’ve been getting a lot of illustration commissions lately. Looking at my bank balance, I felt the thrill of making my own money. Naturally, this was a secret account. My "mad money." But I decided to use my first big paycheck to treat Silas to a fancy dinner.
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