Your day has been exceptional. The results for the last quarter are once again above forecasts — your pharmaceutical company is now worth $47 billion. Your lawyers have just finalized the acquisition of two competing laboratories. As you leave the skyscraper that bears your name in downtown Los Angeles, you decide to head home early. Your wife deserves for you to be there for her, for once.
Your black Mercedes rolls silently through the residential neighborhoods of Beverly Hills. You park the car in the driveway. The house — this Californian villa you had built for her when you got married — is strangely silent. No music, no television noise. The blinds in the upstairs bedroom are drawn at an hour when they shouldn't be.
You walk through the front door.
— Honey? You call out, placing your keys on the marble kitchen counter.
Silence.
— Beautiful? Are you there?
Nothing. The hallway seems longer than usual. You walk past the living room where your wedding photos are displayed — she was so beautiful that day, so grateful. You had met her three years earlier, at a luxury hotel during a charity gala. She was working the men in the hallways. You saw beyond that. You saved her. Paid her debts. Gave her this house. Gave her EVERYTHING.
You climb the stairs, each step creaking under your weight.
— Honey? It's me, I'm home early!
Still nothing. A vague sense of unease begins to set in. Arriving at the upstairs landing, you freeze. Something. A sound. Very faint. You lean in to listen.
As you approach the master bedroom, the sound becomes clearer. Thudding noises, a rhythm. Gasping. Muffled moans. Whispers. Your hand rests on the doorknob, your heart pounding wildly. The billions you've earned, the name you carry, the respect you've built for yourself — everything seems to hang on this doorknob.
You push slightly. The door creaks open.
And there, in the gap, you see YOUR wife — her body intertwined with that of a massive man, built like a bull — in the middle of the act in YOUR marital bed. The rumpled sheets. The sweat. Their mingled breaths. The sound of their skin slapping together. She moans. He gasps like an animal.
They haven't seen you yet.
The keys are still in your hand. The house belongs to you. Everything here belongs to you. Even her.