In the eyes of my husband, Laurent Dubois, I am nothing more than a simple housewife: unemployed, without ambition and, in his own words, without any value.
My name is Eleanor Morel. For Laurent, I represent the very image of passivity, a domestic presence that he has ended up despising over the years, relegating me to the background of his hectic life.
What Laurent does not know is that I am the secret owner of the Horizon Global Holdings Group, a colossal empire valued at five billion euros, with shipping lines on the entire French Mediterranean coast.
My heritage ranges from luxury hotels in Nice and Cannes to leading technology companies based in Paris, Lyon and other major European cities.
Why did I hide this reality? Because I wanted Laurent to love me for who I am, not for my fortune. When we met in Lyon, he was kind, hardworking and full of dreams.
But when he got a promotion within the company where he worked — without me knowing that it was one of my own subsidiaries — he radically changed, becoming arrogant and dismissive.
I lost the man I had fallen in love with, replaced by a stranger imbued with his person. The night of his promotion party had finally arrived; he had just been appointed vice president of sales for France.
I was preparing, holding my evening dress in my hands, when Laurent entered the room with a hanger in his hand, his gaze loaded with a icy contempt.
“What are you doing, Eleanor? “He asked coldly. “Why are you wearing this dress? Do you really imagine yourself accompanying me like that? »
“I’m getting ready for your birthday and your success,” I replied with a forced smile, already feeling unease in front of his accusing tone.
He laughed with contempt, a dry sound that resounded in the room. With a sudden gesture, he tore the dress out of my hands and threw it carelessly on the floor.
“You’re not a guest,” he said harshly. “For this banquet, I need staff to serve. We’re running out of arms and you have to make yourself useful. »
Then, he threw the hanger on which a black servant uniform was hanging: a white apron and a ribbon were included, marking my new role for the evening.
“Put that. You’ll serve the drinks. That’s all you can do, right? And one more thing… don’t tell anyone that you’re my wife. You embarrass me. Say you’re a schedule worker. »
I felt something break in me. I wanted to yell at him that I could buy the company he was working for and fire him with a simple phone call. But I remained silent.
It was the final event, the last test to see how far his disrespect could go before I decided to take over the reins of my destiny.
“All right,” I replied in a low voice, concealing the storm that was raging under my apparent calm, while accepting this ultimate affront.
Going down in the living room of our house in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, I saw a woman sitting comfortably on the sofa. It was Camille, her secretary: young, beautiful and confident.
But what took my breath away was what she was wearing around her neck. It was my grandmother’s emerald necklace, a legacy of the Morel family.
This priceless jewel had disappeared from my jewelry box that morning. Seeing this valuable object about this woman caused me a dazzling pain in my heart.
“My love, does it suit me? “asked Camille by caressing the green stones with an assurance that gave me nauseatedness, totally ignoring my presence.
“He’s fine with you to perfection,” Laurent replied before kissing him. “He puts you in much more value than my wife, who has no style. Tonight, you will be sitting with me at the table of honor. »
“It is you that I will present as my official partner,” he added, finishing to trample on the remains of our wedding in front of his delighted mistress.
I turned away silently. By adjusting my apron in the kitchen, I felt my dignity being torn out piece by piece, as well as a sacred memory of my family.
They had no idea that that night would change everything. The reception was held in the large ballroom of a five-star hotel on Avenue Montaigne.
Huge chandeliers lit up the play and a quartet played jazz gently while executives, investors and business leaders raised their glasses of champagne.
I entered through the service door, wearing a tray of drinks, my black uniform perfectly ironed. No one paid attention to me; I was invisible, just as Laurent wanted.
I saw him immediately. Standing in the center of the room, radiating confidence, he shook hands smiling with undisguised pride in front of his peers.
At his side was Camille, dressed in an elegant red tailor and wearing my emerald necklace as if it belonged to her by right, defying any decency.
Every step I took between the tables reminded me how low I had fallen by accepting the unacceptable, naively hoping that it would eventually change.
“Miss, another cup,” one of the guests ordered without even giving me a look, treating me like a simple piece of furniture in the reception room.
I served in silence, my face impassive. I passed the main table just when Laurent was raising his drink to make a toast to his success.
“Thank you all for being here on this important night. This promotion marks the beginning of a new phase for the company… and for me personally. »
The applause broke out. Camille put her hand on her arm, simulating a perfect intimacy in front of this assembly of notables, while taking a victorious look.
“And I want to especially thank my partner, who has always supported me,” he added, looking at her with the smile that once belonged to me.
A ball formed in my throat, but I continued on my way. Then, something unexpected happened, freezing the festive atmosphere of the evening.
The large doors of the room opened abruptly and the general murmur died out immediately. The imposing silhouette that had just entered left no one indifferent.
The group’s global CEO, Alexandre Rivas, joined the assembly, accompanied by several members of the International Board of Directors. His presence was not planned for the program.
Laurent tense, surprised himself, and immediately adopted his most servile professional smile. “Mr. Rivas! What an honor to welcome you to us tonight. »
Everyone stood up out of respect. I stayed behind, busy having the pieces of meat on a serving table, avoiding attracting attention too early.
I heard footsteps approaching my position. “I was looking for someone in particular,” Rivas said in a voice that carried throughout the silent room.
Laurent seemed bewildered. “Somebody? Who then? “He asked, desperately trying to understand who might be interested in the world’s big boss.
Rivas did not respond. He walked straight to me. The whole room was plunged into a silence of death, the audience observing the scene with increasing curiosity.
I turned around slowly. Our eyes crossed and he smiled with sincere respect, a glimmer of complicity shining in his dark eyes.
Then, under the stunned gaze of more than a hundred guests, the group’s general manager tilted slightly and said in a perfectly clear voice:
“Good evening, Madam President. We are happy to finally see you back with us. The sound of a cup breaking on the ground was the only echo.
Camille froze on the spot. Laurent has faded instantly, his features breaking down in shock of the revelation. The whispers began to spread like wildfire.
“President? “What did he just say? “Who is she really? The questions were on all sides, creating a hustle and bustle of general unbelief.
Laurent approached, shaking. “There must be a mistake… It’s my wife… well… a housewife…” he stuttered, looking for a non-existent emergency exit.
