My husband splashed champagne over my dress at his promotion gala to introduce his mistress. He had no idea I secretly owned the company that just promoted him.
Cold champagne coming off a navy dress onto marble.
Two hundred senior people watching, and the kind of silence a room that size should not be able to make.
And my husband leaning in with that smile.
“You pathetic little farm girl,” he said, at volume. “Did you honestly think you belonged in here?”
Six years of letting me hold the whole thing up while he was quietly ashamed of me.
And then his assistant came and stood next to him in silver, and Dash put his arm round her waist.
“I may as well stop pretending,” he announced, to the room.
Linnea kissed his cheek. Somebody near the window actually gasped.
“Linnea understands the life I’m building,” he said. “You never have.”
