The opulent mansion was easily worth ten million dollars.
Kimberly climbed the stairs, and through the slightly ajar door, she heard moans and heavy breathing. Two naked bodies were entwined on the bed.
"Easy there. My period's not quite over yet," Lotta whined.
Richard kissed her with a tenderness Kimberly had never seen from him. He croaked, "Don't worry, babe. I won't go all the way. Just wanna hold you."
Lotta pouted playfully. "What if you can't hold back? You'd have to go home to her for that, right?"
Annoyance flashed across Richard's face. "I don't even want to touch her. Aside from the bare minimum as a husband, just looking at her makes me feel disgusted."
Kimberly stumbled back, her heart throbbing with dense, stabbing pain.
Lotta sent her a voice message: [You heard that? He'd rather cuddle me during my period and do nothing than go back to you. Oh, and you probably didn't know. We had a baby once, but it was a miscarriage.]
Kimberly's heart went numb with agony.
How could she not know? That divorce agreement spelled it out. Richard wanted her out with nothing because Lotta was pregnant.
Kimberly texted back: [Fine by me.]
Kimberly went to a law firm and drew up a new divorce agreement, asking for a fair 50-50 split. If they went to court, Richard—as the one at fault—would lose even more.
But she didn't want to drag their marriage into a messy battle; she just wanted an out as quickly as possible.
Her top priority was getting him to sign it, so she texted Lotta again: [If you can get him to sign the divorce agreement, he's yours.]
Two days later, Richard came home, looking refreshed and satiated, but when he saw Kimberly, his demeanor shifted back to indifference. "What's up? You look wiped out."
Kimberly paused, then shook her head. "Nothing."
Just then, a delivery guy knocked. "Here are your anniversary flowers. Sorry for the delay—the blue roses were out of stock the other day. Happy anniversary!"
A huge bouquet of vibrant blue roses was thrust into Richard's arms. He froze, then turned with a guilty look. "Sorry, I forgot the other day was our..."
Kimberly gave him a cold stare. "Apologies after the fact are meaningless. Some things, once missed, are gone forever."
He reached for her hand, trying to placate her. "Come on, it's just a couple of days late. Don't give me the cold shoulder. Work's been crazy. I'll make it up to you."
She ignored him and set the flowers on the table. Richard blinked, any guilt evaporating. "Kimberly, this isn't like you."
She stopped, turning to him. "And what should I be like?"
Should she cater to his every whim, hang on his words, and thank him profusely for an empty promise?
"It's just an anniversary—not Christmas or anything. Does the formality really matter that much? Fine, forget it." He waved dismissively. "I'll make it right today. Get changed—we're going to the mall."
He headed downstairs, and her grievances welled up. But maybe it was best to clear the air.
As she stepped into the elevator, the lights suddenly went out. Her heart immediately leaped into her throat.
She pounded the alarm button, but nothing happened. In her desperation, she called Richard, but the line was busy.
A text came through: [Something came up. Hang tight at home.]
She froze, and right after, Lotta's text came: [My cramps are killing me, and he's coming over to comfort me. Looks like your anniversary plans are ruined again.]
Her claustrophobia kicked in. The elevator could drop at any moment.
Desperately, she texted Richard: [I'm stuck in the elevator! Call the building manager! I don't have their number!]
[Richard, save me! It's pitch black here! Please!]
Minutes passed with no response. A rumble echoed, and the elevator plunged. She screamed and blacked out.
