At the annual gala, he introduced me to the CEO as his nanny. I swallowed my anger. But an hour later, his sister spilled red wine all over my white dress and ordered me to clean the floor. That was the moment everything changed.
The mirror in our bedroom reflected the gold frame my husband Mark Reynolds insisted on buying to match his image as Vice President of Sales.
I adjusted the strap of my white silk dress—simple, understated, and worth more than Mark’s first car. I’d paid for it myself, using dividends from investments he knew nothing about.
“Are you really wearing that?” Mark asked, struggling with his cufflinks.
“It’s elegant,” I replied.
“It’s plain,” he said dismissively. “Tonight is the Apex Dynamics Gala. Investors will be there. People who matter.”
I nodded. “I’ll stay out of the way.”
“Good,” he muttered. “The new owner—the so-called Ghost Chairwoman—might show up. If I impress Thomas Whitaker, I could land a promotion.”
I smiled quietly. He had no idea the Ghost Chairwoman was standing right in front of him.