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I replied calmly:
“You've got it wrong, Evelyn. I'm here to see a friend.”
“A friend? Liam, since when do you have artsy friends?”
She laughed lightly.
Right—Evelyn didn't like me out late. After moving in, I'd gradually declined outings with artistic friends.
Old classmates said I'd married up and looked down on them. We drifted apart.
Now, I had hardly any friends left—let alone artsy ones.
“Whatever. If you say so. I know men care about pride. My car's in B2, section A. We'll go home together later.”
Her invitation left me cold.
Seeing my lack of excitement, Evelyn frowned slightly.
“I have things to do. Don't follow me—wait in the garage.”
Just then, Chloe hurried over.
“Dad! Let me introduce my friend.”
She naturally linked her arm with mine.
“Liam—genius designer from NYU. He inspired a lot of my work.”
I was stunned. I'd never mentioned my glorious past—how did she know?
I'd won a national design championship, got into NYU on full ride.
Four years there, I bagged several awards. Top firms offered positions after graduation.
But to stay with Evelyn, I declined them all. I'd almost forgotten I was once a promising young man.
Mr. Lynch?
I stared as Chloe affectionately greeted Mr. Lynch.
So Chloe was the daughter of financial tycoon James Lynch.
Evelyn stood frozen, finally stammering:
“Miss Lynch, what an honor.”
Chloe blinked playfully.
“Just a country girl, Evelyn. No need for formalities.”
Evelyn forced a smile.
“Not at all. Your family's influence and your talent are impressive. I have much to learn.”
Mr. Lynch, savvy as ever, eased the tension:
“Evelyn, you flatter her. My daughter's always wandering off. But she's joining the company next week—hope you'll guide her.”
Chloe winked at me. Suddenly, it clicked.
No wonder I'd been hired as deputy manager at a top firm soon after returning to the city—overseeing branding and design.
I'd thought it was my past work that impressed them.
How naive. After joining Evelyn's world, I was just a trophy husband—no recent designs to my name.
I smiled gratefully at Chloe. I didn't resent her help—instead, I felt thankful.
Someone who truly cares protects your dignity and supports you silently.
When I first joined Evelyn's company, executives suggested me for manager.
Evelyn said start from the bottom—to earn respect.
I thought it was fair—keeping work and personal separate.
But she often blamed me in meetings, even for others' mistakes.
Her excuse: “You're the CEO's husband. Why didn't you argue? Where's your backbone?”
Backbone? That requires support.
She never gave me any.
Everyone at company read the situation. Once respectful, they soon looked down on me.
Just an unpopular pretty face.
Mr. Lynch's cough brought me back.
“Son, Chloe speaks highly of you. Don't let her down.”
“She went through a lot for you—”
