My husband cheated , but I caught him and took my revenge in a smart way .

That was the fatal moment. One of his rivals, planted on the board, immediately interjected, subtly pointing out the huge discrepancy between the required depth and the budget projections. Another asked directly about the protected conduits, referencing the 1920 maps now circulating among the city officials. The board demanded an immediate, independent engineering audit based on his presented figures.

The audit, which took only 48 hours, revealed the exaggerated load-bearing requirements, the violation of the protected conduit zone (an issue he had genuinely overlooked but which I had magnified), and the out-of-date environmental references. It looked not like malice, but like staggering, unforgivable negligence on a project of this scale. The cost implications were devastating, forcing a complete redesign and a two-year delay. The project was officially put on hold, and the consortium announced that the Architect would be stepping back from the lead role, citing “a need for an architect who can fully dedicate themselves to the immense scale of this task.”

When he returned to the apartment that evening, defeated and stripped of his professional pride, he found me packing a small, sensible suitcase. He didn’t ask about the key fob; he was too consumed by the wreckage of his professional life. “They took the docklands,” he whispered, sitting heavily on the pristine sofa. “They said I was distracted. Unfocused.”

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