My Husband Called Me A “Stupid Wife” While Spending Millions On His Mistress. Then Her Billionaire Husband Showed Up At My Door With A $150 Million Offer. Should I Take The Money Or Go For Total Destruction?

He destroyed his opponents without getting his own hands dirty. A stark contrast to the impulsive and emotional Mark, Julian was the calm water that could sweep everything away.

Julian said suddenly, changing the subject. “I have to go to Napa Valley next week. There’s a private resort there I’m considering buying. I need a second opinion on the interior design from a woman’s perspective.”

I asked. “What does that have to do with me?”

He commanded. “You’re coming with me. Consider it a field trip. I’ll teach you how to manage real estate assets, so when you reclaim your family’s properties, you won’t be as foolish as your husband.”

I protested. “I can’t just go to Napa. Mark will be suspicious.”

Julian cut in. “Next week, Mark will be busy with Chloe, who claims to have a brand endorsement photo shoot in Miami. He’ll tell you he has an urgent business trip to Chicago, so you’ll have free time.”

He really did know everything. “Just tell him you’re going to a friend’s villa in the Hamptons to clear your head or something. He won’t care, Eleanor. He’ll be glad you’re not home so he can video call Chloe without fear of being caught.”

Julian’s words were harsh but true. Finally, I nodded.

A week later, I landed in Napa, not as a tourist but as the secret apprentice of the country’s most influential tycoon. A private car took us to a hidden, super-luxurious resort perched on a cliff.

The place was so private it felt like the outside world didn’t exist. During our two days there, I saw a different side of Julian Croft.

He didn’t treat me like a subordinate, but not exactly like a friend either. Our relationship was unique.

He taught me how to read property contracts, spot investment potential, and negotiate with local contractors. He was demanding, a perfectionist, and sometimes sharp if I was slow to understand, but he never condescended to me.

That afternoon, we were sitting on the villa’s terrace overlooking the rolling vineyards. The sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange.

A gentle breeze caressed my face, giving me a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in a long time. Julian commented while sipping his espresso. “You’re a quick learner.”

It was the first compliment to ever come out of his mouth. I replied bitterly. “I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a business degree, Julian. It’s just that for the last 5 years, my brain has been dulled by only thinking about Mark’s dinner menu.”

Julian looked at me, his gaze softening. “A shame. Such potential wasted on a man who can’t tell the difference between a diamond and a pebble.”

My heart fluttered at his words. For the first time, I felt valued—not as a wife, but as an individual.

Suddenly, a waiter approached with a tray of fruit, but he tripped on a thick rug. The tray flew toward me. “Look out!”

In the blink of an eye, Julian moved. He pulled my arm forcefully, shielding me with his body.

Fruits and shattered ceramic scattered across the spot where I had been sitting. Julian’s hard chest was pressed against my back, his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

His masculine, calming scent filled my senses. Time seemed to stop.

We remained in that position for a few seconds. I could feel his steady heartbeat against my back, a contrast to my own heart, which was racing wildly.

He whispered in my ear, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine. “Are you all right?”

I turned my head slightly, finding our faces just inches apart. I could see the fine pores of his clean-shaven skin and his dark, intense eyes looking at me with genuine concern.

It wasn’t the cold gaze of a businessman, but the look of a man toward a woman. I answered nervously. “I’m fine.”

Julian slowly released his embrace, then stood up and straightened his jacket, reverting to his cold demeanor as if nothing had happened. He reprimanded the waiter firmly, but not cruelly, then made sure the area was cleaned up immediately.

I was still frozen in my seat, my hand on my chest. In that brief moment, I realized something dangerous.

Mark may have broken my heart, but Julian… Julian was starting to seep into the cracks without permission. This wasn’t part of the contract; this was off-script.

And what was more frightening, I didn’t mind. Our alliance in Napa had opened my eyes.

Mark was just a painful past, but Julian Croft—he was a future enigma, terrifying and tempting all at once. I had to be careful.

Falling for a business partner on a revenge mission was a fatal mistake. But as I watched Julian’s strong back as he stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley, I knew my heart was starting to betray my logic.

The Gala and the Blunder

The gala was held in the grand ballroom of a five-star hotel overlooking Central Park. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung majestically from the ceiling, casting a golden glow across the room filled with the city’s elite.

Women in couture gowns worth as much as family cars laughed delicately while showing off their diamond jewelry, while men in slick suits discussed stocks and politics, holding champagne flutes. The air was a pungent mix of expensive perfumes, fresh lilies, and the thick stench of hypocrisy.

I stood beside Mark, my hand linked through his arm. We were the golden couple of the night.

Mark Peterson, the rising young entrepreneur—at least that’s what people knew. And Eleanor Vance, the faithful wife from a prominent family who always supported him.

No one knew that behind my sweet smile, I was counting down the days to his destruction. Mark whispered in my ear, but his eyes were scanning the room. “You look stunning tonight, honey.”

I knew who he was looking for. I replied flatly. “Thank you, Mark.”

It was now the second month of my agreement with Julian. Following his instructions, I had changed my tactics.

I was no longer the nagging wife demanding attention. I became cold, calm, and unreachable.

I stopped asking what time he came home. I stopped checking his phone in front of him.

I stopped getting angry when he canceled our dinner plans. At first, this change made Mark happy.

He felt free. He thought I had given up or had become the docile wife who knew her place.

But lately, my tranquility had started to bother him. A man like Mark needs validation.

When I was angry or jealous, it fed his ego that he was desired. But when I didn’t care, it drove him mad.

Mark suddenly pulled me toward a group of older men smoking cigars. “Hey, that’s Mr. Garrison. Let’s say hello. He’s a potential investor.”

I followed, smiling politely, nodding at the right moments, and making the kind of high-society small talk my mother had taught me since I was a child. However, out of the corner of my eye, I caught another figure entering the ballroom.

Chloe. My heart pounded, not from fear, but from rage.

The woman wore a blazing red dress that was so tight it audaciously showcased every curve of her body. She arrived on the arm of an old film producer—a new sugar daddy, perhaps—while Julian was unreachable and Mark was with me.

Mark saw her too. His body tensed beside me; his grip on my arm tightened. “What is she doing here?”

Mark muttered quietly, more to himself. I asked, feigning ignorance and following his gaze. “Who, Mark? Oh, is that Chloe, the influencer you’ve told me so much about? Wow, she’s much more vulgar in person than in her photos.”

Mark choked on his own cigar smoke. He looked at me with a strange expression. “You… you know who she is?”

I answered casually, sipping my orange juice. “Of course. Who doesn’t? She’s always going viral. Why are you sweating so much?”

Mark wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “No reason. It’s just a bit warm in here.”

As the night wore on, the real drama began. I saw Chloe stealing glances at us repeatedly, her eyes burning with jealousy.