My husband took me to his company’s gala and, in front of the director, introduced me as “the nanny” so no one would know he was married to me…

his expression composed, his presence quiet but unmistakable, and as Julian began speaking—confident, articulate, rehearsed—I noticed something he didn’t.

Maxwell wasn’t listening to him.

Not really.

He was looking at me.

Not with curiosity.

With recognition.

It was brief.

Subtle.

But it was enough.

“And this is?” Maxwell asked, his tone neutral, his gaze continue reading …