That afternoon, Zara had just woken from a nap when Conrad burst into her room.
"What are you doing?" she protested.
He dragged her out and shoved her into the car. Her wrist turned red from the force, but Conrad didn’t seem to care. A cold smirk played on his lips.
“Today’s our anniversary. Did you forget? I’m taking you out to celebrate.”
How could she forget?
Every year before this, he’d started planning a month in advance. Showered her with diamonds and jewels. Everyone envied her.
But now he had Wrena. Why was he still pretending to care?
Zara was dressed in a custom gown. The massive diamond earrings made her ears ache. Her twelve-centimeter heels cut blisters into her feet.
“Conrad, my feet hurt. Can I sit down for a bit?”
At the banquet, he ignored her and dragged her around for toast after toast.
She drank one glass after another. She had no idea how many. Her vision blurred.
She turned—and Conrad was gone.
Her head spun. She dug her nails into her palm to stay awake.
She stumbled down the hall and heard a familiar voice from one of the rooms.
“Mr. Fowler, I thought you adored your wife. How could you get her drunk and arrange...”
Dread crept over her.
Before she could process anything, a man who looked like a vagrant grabbed her and shoved her into the room.
The stench was overpowering. Zara screamed, “Help! Don’t come near me!”
“My husband’s in the next room. If he finds out what you’re doing, he’ll kill you!”
She tried to crawl away, tears soaking her face.
The man laughed. “Yeah, right! Your husband paid me to sleep with you, sweetheart.”
“W-what did you say...?”
Her ears rang. It couldn’t be true.
Back when a man had tried to grope her on the island, Conrad had his hands chopped off on the spot.
He’d never...
She listened closely as the man continued. "You think I could get into a place this fancy without help? He got you drunk. You really didn’t notice?"
“He said if I slept with you and got pictures, you’d never be able to question his mistresses again.”
The man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
His words were like thunder, destroying everything she once believed about her marriage.
In a surge of desperation, Zara grabbed an ashtray off the table and smashed it into the man’s head, giving her just enough time to stumble out of the room and escape.
It bought her just enough time to flee.
But the world was too big. Where could she even go?
She pushed through the crowd, desperate to leave—only for Conrad to grab her wrist and throw her to the ground.
“How does it feel to be humiliated, First Lady? You like that?”
He stood over her, eyes full of mockery. "You drugged Wrena. Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?"
"I didn’t! I don’t know what—"
Before she could explain, a giant screen lit up.
Her own voice played back: "Help! Don’t come near me... My husband’s in the next room..."
Gasps, laughter and disgusted murmurs filled the room.
All they saw was the once-dignified First Lady, pinned beneath a filthy homeless man—exposed for all to see.
