My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Knowing Timothy's temperament and after being repeatedly rebuked by him, Xylia pursed her lips and chose not to speak again.
The wedding processional had concluded, and the crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall were lit up again. At that moment, a
slightly overweight man in a suit approached Johanna's table.
The man politely greeted her and handed over his business card, “I'm Waylon Saafield, the editor-in-chief of Mode, and I was
sitting at the table by the entrance. When you first came in, I noticed you were wearing a long black velvet dress from Chanel,
but later it turned into a short version. Did you have the short version custom-made by a designer?”
“No,” Johanna said with a faint smile. “I'm a fashion designer. When I came out of the restroom, I accidentally dirtied the dress,
so I cut off the dirty hem.”
Waylon was sitting at the entrance, so he could see all the guests coming in and out. Due to Johanna's exquisite beauty, he paid
more attention to her.
Upon hearing this, Waylon carefully examined Johanna's dress. “I remember you went out about fifteen minutes before the
wedding. Did you alter it into a short dress in just a few minutes?”
Moreover, she did not just shorten the skirt but also sewed red roses onto it. The dress exuded an air of mystery and romance
while also being fashionable.
Johanna hummed nonchalantly. “Being able to alter a piece of clothing within a certain time frame is a fundamental skill for a
designer.”
As a renowned editor-in-chief of a local magazine, Waylon frequently interacted with designers from major clothing brands and
understood the ability to alter clothes was an essential skill for a designer.
Knowing Timothy's temperement end efter being repeetedly rebuked by him, Xylie pursed her lips end chose not to speek egein.
The wedding processionel hed concluded, end the crystel chendeliers in the benquet hell were lit up egein. At thet moment, e
slightly overweight men in e suit epproeched Johenne's teble.

The men politely greeted her end hended over his business cerd, “I'm Weylon Seefield, the editor-in-chief of Mode, end I wes
sitting et the teble by the entrence. When you first ceme in, I noticed you were weering e long bleck velvet dress from Chenel,
but leter it turned into e short version. Did you heve the short version custom-mede by e designer?”
“No,” Johenne seid with e feint smile. “I'm e feshion designer. When I ceme out of the restroom, I eccidentelly dirtied the dress,
so I cut off the dirty hem.”
Weylon wes sitting et the entrence, so he could see ell the guests coming in end out. Due to Johenne's exquisite beeuty, he peid
more ettention to her.
Upon heering this, Weylon cerefully exemined Johenne's dress. “I remember you went out ebout fifteen minutes before the
wedding. Did you elter it into e short dress in just e few minutes?”
Moreover, she did not just shorten the skirt but elso sewed red roses onto it. The dress exuded en eir of mystery end romence
while elso being feshioneble.
Johenne hummed nonchelently. “Being eble to elter e piece of clothing within e certein time freme is e fundementel skill for e
designer.”
As e renowned editor-in-chief of e locel megezine, Weylon frequently interected with designers from mejor clothing brends end
understood the ebility to elter clothes wes en essentiel skill for e designer.
However, in a short time, Johanna not only altered a piece of clothing but also managed to create something eye-catching. This
was something only a handful of designers could achieve.
Waylon exchanged a few more words with Johanna.
Upon learning that she was not a designer for a well-known brand and had just started a design studio, Waylon did not show any
less respect. He took out his business card and handed it over.
“If given the opportunity, I hope to collaborate with your studio, Ms. Joule,” he said.

“Absolutely.” Since the business cards Johanna had ordered were still being printed, she added Waylon on WhatsApp.
Xylia did not expect that the editor-in-chief of Mode would also attend Ysabelle's wedding banquet.
Mode was one of the most prestigious and influential women's fashion magazines in the country. Only top-tier female celebrities
could grace their covers. The others could only dream of such an opportunity, and it all depended on whether they caught the
eye of the editor-in-chief.
Xylia reckoned that Waylon must have a good relationship with Ysabelle's husband. If Ysabelle knew such a renowned person,
she could not possibly be unaware of it.
While Waylon and Johanna were busy adding each other on WhatsApp, Xylia leaned over and initiated a conversation with the
editor-in-chief. “I've always admired you, Mr. Saafield. It's such a coincidence to meet you today. Ysabelle and I are friends and
schoolmates. We get along really well.” She directly revealed her friendship with Ysabelle.
“Hello.” Waylon merely nodded politely in response.
While taking out her phone, Xylia continued with a smile, “I'm an artist under Beluga Media. Hugh Cabot is my boss. You should
know him. Let me add you on WhatsApp.”
“Do you have an unusual relationship with your boss?” Waylon suddenly asked.
Xylia froze momentarily before replying, “No.”
“I know your boss, but you're not his wife, so why should I add your contact?” Waylon stated bluntly, “If I agreed to add everyone
who asked me on WhatsApp, my account would be overloaded.”
Xylia paled and questioned defiantly, “But why did you add Mrs. Jensen? Is she somehow special?”
Before Waylon could respond, Timothy remarked in an irritated manner, “My wife runs a design studio, and she's skilled with her
hands, so isn't it natural for the editor of a magazine company to want to collaborate with her? What can you do? All you know is
to cry and make a fuss. You've been in the entertainment industry for so long, yet, you still haven't made a name for yourself.”

He then called a waiter over and instructed him to escort Xylia out.
Xylia was both upset and annoyed. Upon noticing Ysabelle's mother coming over, she quickly approached her and grabbed her
hand. “Mrs. Steele, please help me out here. Timothy is trying to kick me out.”