"Just a housewife," my husband Gabriel's words cut through the elegant restaurant as he raised his crystal glass. "My dear Valerie here is the perfect example of knowing her place." Little did he know that in less than 24 hours, I would reveal that I owned the very building where his prestigious law firm operated.
His colleagues shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the chandelier light reflecting off the polished walnut table where Gabriel had gathered his most important clients. The private dining room at Le Meridien buzzed with the city's legal elite—partners from rival firms, potential clients, and most crucially, the board members of Archer Investments, whose business Gabriel desperately needed to secure his promotion to managing partner.
I maintained my practiced smile, the one I'd perfected through eight years of marriage, smoothing the linen napkin across my lap as if it were the most important task in the world. My fingers traced the embroidered edge, counting silently to control my breathing. One... two... three...
"Gentlemen, let me tell you something about success," Gabriel continued, the ice cubes clinking against his tumbler as he gestured grandly. "Behind every successful man is a woman who understands boundaries. Valerie here has mastered that art."