My Poor Husband Is A Billionaire

Within the exhibition hall, Janet guided Brandon, her elegant hand pointing out the symphony of colors and lines that made up Nelson’s masterpieces. With the practiced air of a seasoned designer, she dissected the intricate details and design principles of each piece. Brandon, an art neophyte, found himself ensnared by the alluring labyrinth of creativity unfolding before him.

As Janet’s enthusiasm soared, an unwelcome voice pierced her joyful bubble.

“Miss White, what a delightful surprise!” Clyde, decked out in a meticulously chosen ensemble, flashed a smile at Janet. Catching sight of Brandon, his eyes. briefly flickered with thinly veiled disdain. His heart had not prepared for the revelation that Janet’s companion would be Brandon, and he wondered if the latter had the capacity to comprehend the art pieces.

With a smirk, he blurted, “Ah, Mr. Larson graces us with his presence. Does he find Mr. Nixon’s art to his taste?”

Janet’s eyebrows knitted into a delicate frown, and she quickly stepped into the breach for her husband. “Whether my husband appreciates these art pieces or not, surely, Mr. Lambert, is none of your concern.”

Clyde offered a placating smile, swiftly apologizing when he saw Janet’s rising ire, “Don’t take offense, Janet. I merely thought Mr. Nixon’s raw, primal style might not sit well with a hard-nosed businessman. No harm intended.”

Janet, rendered speechless by Clyde’s audacity, barely resisted rolling her eyes.

She clutched Brandon’s hand, ready to extricate themselves from the conversation.

his tone dripping with arrogance. “Just a small piece of information, Miss White.

good spirits, he might even provide some insight

sharp as an artist’s chisel, arched upward, and

Cutting off the latter’s prattle

blatant snub, yearned to renew his mockery but was silenced as he watched Brandon warmly greet Nelson while still holding Janet’s hand.

they shared a close and amicable relationship.

limited as a fish’s understanding of flight, was something Clyde couldn’t wrap his head around. He had poured so much

his mouth. Clyde wished he could evaporate, leaving nothing behind

Clyde’s mental turmoil. He greeted Nelson with a respectful nod before

“She’s the

of her husband’s casual camaraderie with Nelson, a titan of the art world, had

what’s your take on my wife’s creations? Don’t they remind you of

crimson. The idea of her work being likened