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.

Clyde leaped into their path, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Just a small piece of information, Miss White. I’ve had

could introduce you. If he’s in good spirits, he might even provide some insight into your design

as an artist’s chisel, arched upward, and a glimmer of

Clyde unworthy of his time. Cutting off the latter’s prattle mid- sentence, he guided Janet

to renew his mockery but was silenced as he watched Brandon warmly greet Nelson

they shared a close

a man like Brandon, whose understanding of design was as limited as a fish’s understanding of flight, was something Clyde couldn’t wrap his head around. He had poured so much effort into currying favor with Nelson, and

mouth. Clyde wished he could evaporate, leaving nothing behind

mental turmoil. He greeted Nelson with a respectful nod before turning

declared, a proud glint in his eyes. “She’s the creative genius

husband’s casual camaraderie with Nelson, a titan of the art world, had her reeling. Brandon, seizing the moment, raised his glass to Nelson, an impish grin dancing on his

wife’s creations? Don’t they remind you of your early masterpieces?”

a deep crimson. The idea of her work being likened