Trapping The Cheater With Design
Language: en
For four years, my boyfriend Wesley never once brought up marriage. He never even took me home for the holidays to meet his parents. The day before I planned to sit him down and finally demand clarity about our future, my interior design firm landed a massive whale of a contract. A sprawling, floor-to-ceiling glass penthouse in the Gold Coast. The client, a woman in her late fifties with a Botox-smoothed forehead and a designer bag resting on her lap, practically glowed with pride. "This is going to be my son’s marital home," she announced, waving a hand through the empty, sunlit…