The day I became a director should have been one of the happiest days of my life, but my husband ruined it with a mocking smile.

I looked at him and felt something inside me go completely still.
This wasn’t really about his mother or sister. It wasn’t even about the house. It was about the fact that I had just stepped into something bigger than him, and Derek—who had spent the last four years bouncing between half-finished business ideas and blaming “bad timing” for every failure—couldn’t stand it.

He stood, grabbed his truck keys, and said, “I’m picking them up at ten tomorrow. Make sure the guest rooms are ready. And don’t start a fight when they get here.”

I didn’t argue.

I didn’t cry.

I just smiled.