“She’s not my wife. She’s the nanny.”
The oxygen seemed to vanish from the room the moment Julian said those words to the CEO of his company. He didn’t use my name or mention that we had been married for seven years, instead erasing my existence as his partner in a single heartbeat.
Earlier that evening, while I was adjusting a white silk gown in our bedroom in Palm Beach, Julian walked in with the arrogant air of a man who believed the world revolved around his success.
“Are you seriously wearing that dress to the gala?” he asked while tightening his gold cufflinks.
“I think it looks elegant and timeless,” I replied while smoothing the fabric over my hips.
“It looks plain, and tonight isn’t just a dinner, Sarah. It’s the Zenith Group annual gala where people who actually matter will be watching us.”
I smiled and chose not to argue because I was used to him treating me like a decorative background piece. He never suspected that the luxury we lived in didn’t come from his salary as a vice president, but rather from my own secret investments.
My grandfather had left me a massive inheritance that I used to quietly acquire struggling businesses like Zenith Group, which I had bailed out through a private fund six months ago. Julian was desperate to impress the interim director, Maxwell Thorne, because he spent every waking hour dreaming of a promotion to the executive board.
“The mysterious owner might even show up tonight,” Julian remarked as we got into the car. “I hope you can manage to stay quiet so I can finally make a lasting impression on the board.”
The gala was held at a prestigious hotel overlooking the coast, filled with crystal chandeliers and the scent of expensive perfume. Julian beamed as he shook hands with everyone, eventually leading me toward the VIP section where Maxwell Thorne was standing.
“Julian, it’s good to see you,” Maxwell said while offering a firm handshake. He then turned his gaze toward me with genuine respect and added, “And I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of being formally introduced to your wife yet.”
Julian froze as a flicker of shame crossed his face, clearly worried that being married to a woman he considered simple would hurt his sophisticated image.
“Oh, no, you’ve got it wrong,” Julian stammered with a nervous, high-pitched laugh. “She isn’t my wife.”
I stared at him in disbelief while my heart hammered against my ribs.
“This is Sarah,” he continued while waving a hand dismissively. “She’s our children’s nanny, and I brought her along to help keep track of our bags and coats.”
The silence that followed was agonizing as Maxwell Thorne looked between Julian’s smug face and my icy expression.
“The nanny?” Maxwell repeated while nearly choking on his champagne.
“Yeah, it’s hard to find good help these days,” Julian laughed while turning back to business. “Anyway, about those third-quarter projections I sent over…”
Maxwell held my gaze, waiting for me to say something, but I simply gave a small shake of my head to signal that the time wasn’t right just yet.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sarah,” Maxwell said with a voice full of hidden meaning. “I imagine that cleaning up after a man like Julian must be a very exhausting full-time job.”
“You have no idea how much trash I have to deal with,” I replied with a sharp smile.
A few minutes later, Julian’s sister, Cynthia, appeared in a tight crimson dress with a glass of red wine and a poisonous smirk.
“I heard the news, Nanny,” she sneered while looking me up and down. “You really do look like high-class domestic help in that ridiculous white dress.”
Julian returned and boasted about his conversation with the CEO, prompting Cynthia to raise her glass for a mock toast. She tilted her wrist with deliberate precision, sending a wave of dark red wine splashing directly across my white silk chest.
“Oh, I am so sorry!” she cried out with fake shock while the red stain spread like a wound over my gown.
“Clean it up quickly, Sarah, before Maxwell sees this embarrassing mess,” Julian hissed while shoving a few napkins into my hand.
“Your sister did that on purpose, Julian,” I said quietly.
“Don’t be dramatic, and since you’re the help tonight, you should probably wipe that wine off the floor too,” Cynthia added while laughing.
Julian pointed at the marble floor and commanded, “Do it now.”
Something inside me snapped as I looked at the napkins and then directly into Julian’s hollow eyes.
“No,” I said firmly while dropping the napkins onto the red-stained floor.
“Sarah! What do you think you’re doing?” Julian hissed, but I ignored him and began walking toward the stage with my head held high.
He tried to stop me by shouting that the stage was only for executives, but the room began to fall silent as I reached the microphone. Maxwell Thorne didn’t look confused at all; he stepped back and bowed his head slightly as I approached.
