At the opening presentation for Bellwether House, my wife put Noah Bell's name above mine on the project I had spent three years designing. Then she leaned close and told me he was young, inexperienced, and needed me to be patient. The room was full of investors, contractors, and people who knew exactly whose work they were looking at. I could have swallowed the insult and let the presentation continue. Instead, I asked one question about the plans—and watched my wife choose her protégé over me in front of everyone. The project was worth millions, the studio was built on my designs, and my marriage was already coming apart. I had to decide which part I was willing to lose first.