Chapter 2: Shattered Trust

Just yesterday, Lillian told me she was heading out of state for a work trip. We’d talked an hour ago—she sounded chipper, not tired. “Honey, I just checked into the hotel. I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed early tonight. I’ll have to sleep alone tonight.”

She didn’t sound miserable. She sounded almost happy.

The photo in her post showed a dim hotel room, her draped in a sexy bathrobe, a man sleeping behind her. Her face wasn’t visible, but I knew every inch of her—there was no doubt.

The voice in the earlier video was hers. Now the photo too. Lillian, my wife of three years.

I grabbed my phone to call her, but stopped with my thumb hovering over the button. My hands were shaking. I forced myself to swallow my anger, bolted for the bathroom, and cranked the cold water on full blast.

The icy spray hit my face, making my teeth chatter. The bathroom mirror fogged up around the edges, but my own eyes stared back, wild and red. The pounding in my chest dulled for a moment, replaced by the sharp ache of reality biting my skin. I tried to breathe, but the world felt like it had tilted sideways.

Lillian’s betrayal wasn’t a total shock. She’d always been the campus star, a model art student with sports cars lined up outside her dorm and bouquets of roses delivered daily. Wherever she went, guys would swarm just for a glimpse.

She married me, almost by accident. Her parents got locked up for white-collar crimes—embezzlement, fraud, the kind of stuff that makes the evening news. The rich guys around her disappeared like smoke.

When she was at her lowest, I was the one who showed up, the one who helped her get back on her feet.

There should’ve been something real between us. But love? I couldn’t say for sure.

Back at my computer, still shivering, I touched the mouse and saw the thread had already scrolled to the end.

Challenge 100: Kill him. Pending.