"Fifteen days, Bruce," I said, crossing my arms. "That is exactly how much time you spend in this house every month."
He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his expensive silk tie.
"Iris, be reasonable," he replied, not meeting my eyes.
"I am reasonable. We have been married for three years. You live like a part-time husband."
Bruce turned around. He closed the distance between us, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling my hips flush against his.
"Because if I stay here, I won't get any work done," he murmured, leaning in to kiss my jaw. "You are too fucking beautiful. I lose my mind around you. I have a billion-dollar company to run, remember?"
I stared at his perfectly styled hair. "So you stay away to protect your productivity?"
"Exactly," he smiled, flashing those straight white teeth. "Now give me a kiss. I have a board meeting."
I let him kiss me. I watched him walk out the door, slide into his sleek black Mercedes, and drive away.
But today, the excuse tasted like ash in my mouth.
I grabbed my keys.
I kept my sedan two blocks behind his car. He did not head downtown toward the corporate towers. Instead, he drove toward the quiet, wooded outskirts of the city, pulling into the driveway of a secluded, ivy-covered villa.
I parked across the street and killed the engine.
The front door of the villa swung open. A young woman sprinted out, her bare feet slapping against the paved walkway. She launched herself into Bruce's arms.
He caught her, spinning her around in the sunlight.
I squinted through the windshield. Her face came into focus, and my blood turned to ice.
Judy.
She was the impoverished college student Bruce had sponsored five years ago. The sweet, innocent girl who used to send us handmade thank-you cards covered in glitter.
Now, her hands tore at my husband's dress shirt.
"Bruce, fuck, I missed you," she moaned, her voice carrying easily across the quiet street.
"You think I didn't miss this?" he growled.
He shoved her backward against the hood of his Mercedes. He did not even wait to go inside the house. He yanked her gray sweatpants down to her ankles, exposing her bare thighs and pussy to the open air.
Judy wrapped her legs tight around his waist.
He unzipped his trousers, pulled out his cock, and slammed directly into her.
"Fuck, Bruce!" she screamed, throwing her head back against the windshield. "Harder."
"You like that, Judy?" he grunted. He drove his hips forward with brutal, punishing force. "Fucking taking it right in the front yard."
"Yes! Fuck my pussy, please!"
I sat entirely frozen. The leather steering wheel dug into my palms.
He pounded into her. His hands gripped her bare ass, his fingers digging deep into her flesh. He was frantic, hungry, entirely consumed by the girl he had claimed was just a charity case. Every thrust made a wet, slapping sound that echoed in my ears.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Bruce groaned, his pace quickening.
"Fill me up," Judy begged, her nails scratching down his back. "Do it."
I did not scream. I did not cry.
I just watched my husband fuck his mistress on the hood of the car he bought with our joint bank account.
I put my car in drive and pulled away.
The drive home was a blur of gray roads and red traffic lights. The grand foyer of our mansion felt like a cold museum when I walked through the double doors.
Mia sat on the velvet sofa in the living room, sipping her afternoon tea. My mother-in-law barely glanced up from her porcelain cup.
"You look terrible, Iris," she noted, setting the saucer down on the glass table. "Did you forget your makeup today?"
"Bruce is fucking Judy," I said.
The words hung in the quiet room. I expected her jaw to drop. I expected outrage, or at least a gasp of shock.
Mia simply stirred her tea. The silver spoon clinked against the china.
"And?" she asked.
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean, 'and'? I just watched my husband fuck another woman in a driveway. The girl he sponsored."
"Keep your voice down," Mia scolded. Her tone remained perfectly even. "You are Bruce's wife. You hold the title. You should be glad he only has one mistress."
I stared at her. A bizarre, hollow laugh ripped from my throat.
"Glad?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"Yes, glad," Mia continued, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her expensive skirt. "Men are all like this. My husband had three. Bruce is a wealthy, powerful man. As long as he comes home to you, what does it matter where he empties his cock?"
"He empties it into a charity case," I spat.
"Watch your mouth," Mia snapped, her eyes flashing with sudden anger. "You enjoy the luxury of this house. You wear diamonds on your fingers. Do not ruin your life over a little spilled semen. Fix your face before he gets back."
She stood up and walked out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the marble hallway.
I stood alone in the massive living area. The silence pressed against my ears.
Hours later, the heavy oak front door opened.
"Iris? I'm home!" Bruce called out.
His footsteps moved down the hall. He walked into the kitchen, looking exactly as he had this morning. Perfect hair. Crisp shirt. No sign of the sweat or the dirt from the hood of his car.
He smiled, crossing the room to wrap his arms around me from behind.
"Missed you," he whispered, pressing his lips to my neck.
The scent of his expensive cologne hit my nose. Beneath it lingered the faint, unmistakable smell of sex and cheap vanilla lotion.
My stomach violently turned.
He slid his hand down my stomach, his fingers grazing the waistband of my jeans. "Let's go upstairs. I want to fuck my beautiful wife."
Bile rose in my throat. I shoved his chest hard, breaking his grip.
He stumbled back a step, blinking in genuine surprise.
"Don't touch me," I said.
Bruce's brow furrowed. He tilted his head, his hands dropping to his sides. "What is your problem?"
"I said don't touch me."
"Are you in a bad mood?" he asked. He stepped closer again, his voice lowering into that soothing, manipulative tone he always used to get his way. "Did my mother say something to upset you while I was gone?"
I looked at his mouth. The exact same mouth that had been kissing Judy's neck hours ago.
"I just want to be left alone, Bruce."
He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Fine. If you want to act like a child, go ahead. But you cannot shut me out forever, Iris."
He turned and headed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
I watched his retreating back, my nails digging into my palms until the skin broke.
He really thought I was just having a bad day. He had no idea what I was about to do next.
