Secret Wife, Real Billionaire

My darling husband

The driver maintained a facade of obliviousness, driving the Maybach smoothly towards Marcelo’s house.

After about ten minutes of silence, Renee began, “I... Well, there's no real issue with Harry managing both the

Venus Bar and our milk tea shop.”

Marcelo’s chuckle was low and brief, so fleeting that Renee thought she might have imagined it.

Just as she was about to question what amused him, his fingertips brushed her chin lightly, like one would

playfully stroke a cat.

“You little liar,” he teased. “Keep making up stories.”

Renee, puzzled by being called a liar, hesitated several times before speaking. She couldn't find the right words

to defend herself.

Marcelo spoke slowly. “You visit the Venue Bar at least three times a month: during the beginning, middle, and

end of the month. Yet, regulars barely see you there, suggesting you have a private room. But the Venus Bar

doesn’t offer exclusive personal rooms.”

In the Venus Bar, there was no such thing as a private room exclusively for personal use, except for Sarah and

Renee, if they were indeed the owners.

Renee didn’t expect that Marcelo was still investigating the Venus Bar.

Given these circumstances, her efforts to hide the truth seemed futile.

“Fine,Sarah and | own the Venus Bar. That foundation is merely a front for funds we're involved with because we

prefer anonymity. So, don’t bother trying to confrontwith claims of you buying the bar for me, “Renee said,

seemingly ready to abandon caution.

Marcelo raised an eyebrow.

She realized he had been testing her previously.

He always found intelligent women more appealing.

Renee had even taken care to distance herself from the Rich Private Foundation.

The Rich Private Foundation, with its global investment ventures, was a formidable entity. Sspeculated that

it was a mere investment tool for international businessmen.

Yet, it couldnt be discounted that the foundation served as a front for something else.

“What are you staring at?” Renee asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed as Marcelo remained silent. Her

embarrassment only seemed to bolster her resolve. “We're just trying to earn smoney, okay?We didn’t

expect the bar to blow up like that and we, especiallydidn’t want people to know, | don’t want to be popular

as the owner of the Venus Bar, I'm not ashamed of owning it, | just want to be popular for my talents instead.”

Marcelo recalled the Venus Bar's substantial monthly revenue and profits. Yet, Renee didn’t display the

extravagance typical of those with a million-dollar monthly allowance.

Without probing into her expenditures, Marcelo inquired, “Is the money you get from that far enough?”

Renee expected him to accuse her of deception, but instead, he was concerned about her finances. “It’s

adequate,” she replied. Her lab expenses were high, so she didn’t live extravagantly.

“You haven't used the supplementary card | gave you,” He noted. Usage of the supplementary card, linked to his

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primary card, would notify him.

Renee remembered using his card to scratch off an anti-counterfeiting code.

But she was savvy enough not to disclose this to him.

“I... I'm not comfortable spending someone else’s money."

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This reference to ‘someone else’ visibly unsettled Marcelo.

His discomfort was evident as he frowned.

“Isn't it normal to use your husband’s money?” he asked, his tone light but with an underlying chill. “Or do you

simply not want to use mine?”

Renee glanced down at the hand-stitched seats, then said, Marcelo, | never used Drew’s money, even when we

were engaged so don’t twist this.”

“Am | no different from Andrew to you?” Marcelo’s expression darkened instantly.

Before she could explain, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him.

In a moment, Renee found herself seated on his lap.

His lips, cooled by the winter air, pressed against hers with a gentle yet icy touch.

Ellie’s mind beca blank canvas under his intense embrace.

“Hey! Mmm...”

Her thoughts suddenly returned to the present, remembering the driver in the front seat. Instinctively, she tried

to push him away.

Her resistance only seemed to encourage him. He pulled her closer, her waist against his, her entire body

enveloped by his.

She found herself yielding to his kiss.

Marcelo finally released her when breathing beca struggle for her.

Renee, catching her breath, looked into his dark eyes. They were swirling with desire and an emotion she

couldn't decipher.

Renee, I'm the one for you, not Andrew, not any other man.

He playfully tweaked her earlobe with his fingers from tto time.

It caused her to feel ticklish, but she couldn't escape it.

Glancing at the driver's seat, Renee noticed the driver focused on the road, seemingly oblivious to the

passionate kissing happening in the back seat for over ten minutes. After two seconds, he pressed a button, and

the backseat partition slowly rose, turning the back seat into an independent space.

Renee was speechless.

If the driver refrained from pressing it, she could allow herself to indulge in self-deception.

| don’t mean to compare you with Andrew. | just want to prove that | don’t spend others’ money... | don’t spend

anyone’s money but mine, including Sarah's, “Renee explained as Marcelo’s expression soured.

“Now you are comparingto Sarah, “Marcelo retorted, clearly unhappy.

Renee glanced at him with a puzzled look. She didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“That’s not what | mean. I'm just making an analogy. You're not the same.”

Despite Renee's explanation, Marcelo still wore a long face,

Attempting to ease the tension, Renee teased, “I'll use your money tomorrow.”

Mockingly, Marcelo asked, “Aren’t you unwilling to spend other people’s money?” His expression remained stoic.

Reassuringly, Renee replied, “You are not other people. You are my darling husband.”

Marcelo’s pupils trembled slightly, and his earlier displeasure disappeared upon hearing those words.

They kept echoing in his ears.

*My darling husband.*

In the study, Luke called Marcelo, providing detailed information about the events at the Venus Bar.

He was unaware of the details when he was outside the police station.

“Speaking of which, for years, Mrs. King celebrated her birthday on this day... No, it was yesterday,” Luke

mentioned, realizing it was now past midnight.

The previous night, all the debutantes and affluent heirs in the city were aware that Catherine, the daughter of

the Hudson family, was commemorating her birthday at the Venus Bar. The fact that this was also Renee's

birthday went unnoticed by everyone.

It was her birthday yesterday...

Marcelo remained oblivious to it, completely overlooking the occurrence.

His wife’s birthday celebration hadn't taken place yet. How dare Catherine flaunt her own birthday party and

bully his wife!

Disconnecting the call with Luke, Marcelo dialed Jason’s number.

“Marcelo, what's up?” Jason’s voice carried traces of sleepiness.

Marcelo stated, “I have a matter to discuss.”

Jason, being a heavyweight in the entertainment circle, was the most suitable person to generate online

discussions and shape public opinion.

“About what? The KM Group? Or the King Group?”

“Catherine was taken to the police station last night,” Marcelo revealed. “Luke will send you the details.”

A few seconds of silence followed on the other end of the line.

Jason gradually awakened and confirmed he hadn't misheard. “Marcelo, you calledat half-past three in the

morning to askto stir up attention about Catherine? Is it worth for you to calljust because Catherine?”

“Nothing else. Go back to sleep.” Marcelo ended the call.

Certainly, Catherine wasn’t worth it.

But Renée was.

Marcelo returned to the master bedroom from the study with only a floor lamp illuminating the room. Its dim

light created a cozy ambiance.

On the right side of the oversized bed, a quilt bulged, indicating Renee’s presence.

Underneath, she breathed softly and quietly.

She slept with her back to the light source and toward the door.

Climbing into bed,Marcelo covered himself and naturally embraced Renee. He gently touched her cold hands.

The winter chill made it challenging for Renee to warm her hands and feet.

Sensing the warmth, Renee subconsciously leaned towards Marcelo in her sleep.

He held her waist, turning her around until her face was nestled in his arms.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. King. Happy birthday, my Renee,” He whispered.

His voice was tender enough not to disturb her peaceful sleep.

When Renee heard ter name, she instinctively responded and continued to drift into a deep slumber.

The following day, when Renee opened her eyes and beheld the man beside her, she was momentarily taken

aback.

Even after making love and going to bed late, Marcelo, who usually rose early, was still lying beside her. In

contrast to his early riser habits, Renee enjoyed sleeping in

Back then, whenever she woke up, Marcelo would be gone.

When she attempted to get up, she found herself securely held by Marcelo, preventing any movement.

“Don’t move,” the drowsy man murmured, tightening his embrace around Renee.

She felt a slight uneasiness, and her heart raced.

In a sense, being held during sleep felt more intimate than engaging in sex.

The latter, driven by hormones and adrenaline, often created an illusion of intimacy.

On the other hand, sleeping with someone in one’s arms reflected a subconscious expression of dependence and

possessiveness.

“Marcelo...It’s nine o'clock, “Renee whispered when she fully woke up. “Aren’t you going to work?”

Marcelo furrowed his brow and nestled her head against his chest.

Suddenly, everything went black for Renee, even her mind.

After a long while, His phone rang, prompting him to loosen his grip a bit.

“Marcelo, your phone is ringing, “Renee said, pushing him on the chest and feeling his warmth. “Hang up,”

Marcelo responded in his sleep.

Renee was speechless.

Annoyed by the ringing phone, she reached out to answer it herself. She thought it might be a call from Luke.

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“Mr. King, how long before you arrive? Everything's almost ready. If you have other plans today, shall we

postpone the meeting first?”

Renee, recognizing the voice was not Luke's, asked, “You are not Luke?”

The person on the other end seemed shocked.

Renee apologized, “I'm sorry. Mr. King hasn't gotten up yet | thought it was Luke, so | answered the phone. Wait

forto wake him up...”

“No, no.Luke! Luke! It’s not Mr. King who answered the phone. It’s a woman,” the person shouted, sounding

astonished.

Renee felt a strong sense of embarrassment, regretting her decision to answer the phone.

After a brief pause, the call was picked up by someone else.

“Mrs. King, it’s Luke,” the voice on the other end clarified. Luke deliberately lowered his voice, asking, “Mr. King

hasn’t got up yet?”

“Yes, do you needto wake him?” Renee inquired.

“No, no, “Luke replied swiftly. “Mr. King was too busy in Japan. He only slept for less than ten hours in three days.

When he cback home, he went to the police station to pick you up. Now not only is he tired, but he’s also

jet- lagged. I'll postpone the meeting. Please tell Mr. King when he wakes up.”

How could a subordinate urge his boss to go to work?

Luke didn’t want to get fired.

As Renee observed Marcelo sleeping beside her with a slight frown between his eyebrows,

she wondered if he was truly this exhausted.

Almost unconsciously, she raised her hand and gently touched his eyebrows in an attempt to smooth them.

At that moment, he opened his eyes.

“Are you watchingsleep, my wife?” He asked, his eyes boring into hers.