Chapter 1

When I crossed paths with Talia Rosenthal again, I was out on the deck in a bespoke suit, clutching a glass of liquor. Having worked on my design sketches until midnight the day before, I hadn't wanted to show my face, but duty called as the cruise line owner's husband.

I sighed and raised my glass, but before I could take a sip, I heard a hurried set of footsteps behind me. The very next second, I was yanked around against my will.

Talia and I stood frozen in place. Her pupils contracted, and her voice was filled with disbelief. "It really is you, Justin! Where have you been all these years?"

My expression remained stoic. However, before I could answer her, Lucas Hawthorne gasped dramatically. "Why are you so skinny now, Justin? I still remember when you used to be so fat you didn't dare show your face in public!"

Joyce Rosenthal burst into laughter. I hadn't seen her in years, and she had grown much taller. Yet, the haughty look on her face was a carbon copy of Lucas'.

Joyce picked up on his underlying jab and snickered. "Dad, are you mimicking Lucas again? Give it up; you can't be a model anyway." Her tone was filled with disdain, echoing the innumerable times she had ridiculed me in the past—deriding my weight, mocking my foolishness, and reducing me to a stay-at-home husband with zero appeal.

However, before getting married, I was also one of the rising stars taking the fashion world by storm. Major fashion houses had eagerly reached out to me, hoping I would take part in designing their collections.

Yet, after I got married, everything changed. Talia complained ceaselessly about my absence and kept drilling it into my head that socializing and networking outside didn't make me a good husband, much less a good father.

Then came the day she secretly emailed all of my business partners, falsely claiming I was retiring from the industry. When I woke up and broke down, attempting to reason with her, she nonchalantly told me to calm down.

From then on, I was like a bird with clipped wings, devoting myself entirely to the role of a homemaker. Regrettably, in our seventh year of marriage, she cheated on me with the son of her mentor, claiming he was so dazzling he made her feel alive again.

While I was lost in retrospection, Lucas chuckled and said patronizingly, "There's no need to feel inferior even if you can't be a model, Justin. You could always apply to be a security guard.

"As it happens, I have a friend who manages a hotel! Security guards and waiters make seven grand a month. Do you need me to introduce you?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Joyce guffawed. "Stop it, Lucas! My dad's super petty. Let's not make him burst into tears."

Right after saying that, she proudly pointed toward the runway platform in the distance. "Lucas was invited to walk the runway today for a renowned designer."

I was caught off guard. For a moment, I almost wanted to laugh out loud because I was that designer, and this fashion show was meant to warm up the crowd for my wife, Sonya Silverstein's, corporate event. Consequently, I had invited some fairly well-known models.