My Husband Left Me For His Assistant—But I Had Already Transferred Everything to My Name скачать в хорошем качестве

My Husband Left Me For His Assistant—But I Had Already Transferred Everything to My Name

My husband told me I should "stick to designing pretty spaces" at our anniversary dinner in front of his entire executive team. Six months later, his face turned ashen when he discovered his company had lost their biggest historical renovation contract overnight. Now he manages maintenance requests at one of my properties—the same property I secretly purchased through my restoration company three years ago. "Stick to designing pretty spaces" indeed. Before we jump back in, tell us where you're tuning in from, and if this story touches you, make sure you're subscribed—because tomorrow, I've saved something extra special for you! The string quartet played softly in the background as waiters in crisp black uniforms glided between tables at Riverview Terrace. Portland's downtown skyline sparkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, mirrored in the Willamette River below. I smoothed the napkin across my lap, perfecting the pleasant smile I'd worn for nearly ten years of marriage as Tom raised his champagne glass. "To the woman who keeps my home beautiful while I build Portland's skyline," he announced to the table of twelve—his executive team and their spouses gathered for what was supposed to be our anniversary celebration. Somehow, it had morphed into a Westview Development business dinner with a side of anniversary acknowledgment. Kevin Anderson, Tom's business partner, raised his glass in response. "To Becca, who's always been so supportive of Tom's vision! " I maintained my smile, feeling it strain at the edges as Tom continued. "She wanted to study architecture in college, you know. But she found her true calling making our house look pretty instead. " Gentle laughter rippled around the table. "Much better fit for her talents. " What Tom didn't know—what none of them knew—was that my "decorating hobby" had evolved into Cascade Restoration, a historic building renovation company I'd quietly established three years ago. The "design magazines" I read were actually industry journals and architectural reviews. My "girls' weekends" often involved meeting with investors and contractors. The "community meetings" I attended were networking events with Portland's most influential property developers and preservationists. And the Willamette Warehouse District project that Westview Development was currently bidding on? I'd secured it yesterday, after months of careful preparation. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? " Tom's voice pulled me back to the present. "I'm sorry? " I asked, my smile never faltering. "I was just telling everyone how you nearly had a panic attack trying to understand the financing proposal for the Sullivan Building project. " Tom chuckled, his hand squeezing my shoulder with what others might interpret as affection. "Some people just aren't wired for business complexities. "