Chapter 1

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband, James Marshall, presented me with a surprise at our gallery gala.

He had acquired an avant-garde art piece at an auction. It was a painting which he announced as his gift to me.

I watched as he elegantly explained the painting’s artistic value to the guests around him with his glass in hand. He was basking in their admiring glances.

Those guests were all connections I had introduced him to.

The black titanium credit card he had used to pay the seven-figure sum was mine.

I simply smiled and let him have the moment.

Back at home later that night, I planned to retrieve some case files for tomorrow’s hearing from my study. As I approached, I noticed the door was slightly ajar.

The voice that drifted out belonged to my personal assistant, Julie Summers.

“James, this evening’s gallery gala was a success. The wives of those company presidents were practically tripping over themselves praising you.”

I stopped in my tracks.

James chuckled, tinged with complacency. “Of course. Someone had to curate the whole thing. Sophia’s only contributions are a checkbook and a contacts list. She knows nothing about the work.”

“Exactly.” Julie’s voice was tinged with grievance. “Claire’s great at everything, but she’s so domineering. She’s like an emotionless work machine. Being with her must be suffocating, right?”

I froze.

Julie was an intern I had personally recruited out of law school, mentored for three years, and treated like my younger sister. I had entrusted her with authority and a salary far beyond her peers.

James was the man I had loved for ten years. The man I had turned from an unknown painter into the moderately celebrated “art curator” as he was, with my resources and fortune.

I had believed our marriage was a formidable union of complementary talents.

I finally realized at that moment that I was nothing more than a soulless ATM to them.

“Enough about her.” James’s tone turned impatient. “By the way, what about those client profiles I asked you to compile? How are they coming along?”

Julie immediately shifted into a tone eager to impress. Her voice dropped even lower.

“All done! I copied all of Sophia’s VIP client data, including their family backgrounds, asset portfolios, and personal preferences. Now you can approach them as an art investment advisor. I’ll handle the content strategy. We’ll turn them into your loyal clients in no time.”