Rain tapped softly against the tall windows of the Adams mansion. Inside everything looked like a dream. Crystal lights hanging from the ceiling.
Marble floors so shiny you could see your reflection. Gold picture frames on the walls. Soft leather chairs that cost more than most people’s cars.
But that night in that beautiful house, Desmond Adams felt like the poorest man in the world. He sat in his office on the second floor, staring at a cup of coffee that had gone cold hours ago. He was 45 years old.
Strong shoulders. Kind eyes. A calm face that rarely showed emotion.
People called him smart. Powerful. A man who could solve any problem.
But tonight he couldn’t solve the problem in his own heart. Does Monica really love me? The question burned inside him like a fire that wouldn’t go out. Monica.
His wife. 35 years old, with a smile that could light up any room. When they got married 7 years ago everyone talked.
Some people whispered that she only wanted his money. Others said she was too young, too pretty, too interested in expensive things. But Monica had always said the right words.
I love you Desmond, she would say touching his face gently. Not your money. Not your house.
Just you. And Desmond had believed her. Oh how badly he had wanted to believe her.
He remembered their wedding day like it was yesterday. Monica had worn a white dress that sparkled like diamonds. She had cried real tears or so he thought, and promised in front of 200 guests, I will stand by you forever.
Rich or poor. Happy or sad. You are my world Desmond.
My everything. The guests had cheered. Desmond’s heart had been so full of joy he thought it might burst.
But now 7 years later that joy felt like a distant memory. Things had changed. Slowly at first like seasons changing from summer to winter.
Monica stopped holding his hand when they walked together. She no longer asked about his day. Her eyes lit up only when he bought her jewelry or designer clothes.
And lately she spent more time on her phone than talking to him. Last Tuesday, Desmond had heard something that made his blood run cold. He had come home early from work.
Monica didn’t know he was there. He heard her voice coming from the living room. She was on the phone laughing.
A sound he rarely heard anymore when he was around. Girl I’m telling you I can’t take it much longer, Monica had said. Her voice sounded annoyed and tired.
He’s so boring these days. Always working always being careful with money. Where’s the fun? Where’s the excitement? Sometimes I wonder why I’m even still here.
Desmond had frozen in the hallway, his briefcase heavy in his hand. Monica had continued, not knowing he could hear every word. And he’s always watching me like he doesn’t trust me.
It’s exhausting. I just want to live my life you know? Those words had cut deeper than any knife. But Desmond had said nothing.
He had walked quietly back outside waited 10 minutes then came in again. This time making noise so Monica would know he was home. When he entered the living room Monica’s face had changed completely.
Suddenly she was smiling sweet asking about his day like she actually cared. It was like watching an actress put on a That night, Desmond couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed next to his wife, wondering if everything between them was just a performance.
Wondering if she had ever truly loved him at all. Then three days ago something happened that changed everything. It was a Thursday morning.
Bright and sunny. Monica had been getting ready for lunch with her friends. She left her phone on the kitchen counter while she went upstairs to change her outfit for the third time.
Desmond wasn’t He really wasn’t. But the phone lit up with a new message and his eyes caught it by accident. The message said, once he’s gone we’ll have everything to ourselves.
Just be patient. Desmond’s heart had stopped beating. For a moment he forgot how to breathe.
He picked up the phone with shaking hands and read the message again. Once he’s gone we’ll have everything to ourselves. Gone? Gone where? And who was we? The message was from someone saved in Monica’s phone as just No real name.
No photo. Just two letters. Desmond’s mind raced with terrible questions.
Was Monica planning to leave him? Was she having an affair? Or, and this thought made him feel sick, was she planning something even worse? He heard footsteps on the stairs. Monica was coming back. Quickly, Desmond put the phone down exactly where it had been and walked away, his heart pounding like a drum.
For the rest of that day he couldn’t think about anything else. The message played over and over in his mind like a song he couldn’t stop hearing. Once he’s gone.
That night, Desmond did something he had never done before. He called his younger sister Grace and asked her to come over immediately. It was urgent he said.
He needed help. Grace arrived within 30 minutes. She was 38 years old, sharp as a knife, with eyes that could see through lies like windows.
She worked as a lawyer and had always been protective of her big brother. From the very beginning, Grace had never trusted Monica. Something about her doesn’t feel real, Grace had told him before the wedding.
Her smiles are too perfect. Her words are too sweet. Real people have flaws, Desmond.
She’s hiding something. But Desmond had been in love. He hadn’t wanted to hear it.
He had told Grace she was just being overprotective, jealous even. Now, sitting in his office with rain drumming against the windows, Desmond wished he had listened to his sister. Grace sat across from him reading the message on his phone.
Her face grew darker with every second. Who is E.M., she asked, her voice tight with anger. I don’t know, Desmond admitted.
He sounded defeated, broken. Grace looked up at her brother. Desmond this is serious.
Once he’s gone we’ll have everything to ourselves. That’s not just an affair. That sounds like, like they’re planning something.
I know. Desmond’s voice was barely a whisper. Have you asked her about it? No.
If I confront her she’ll just lie. She’ll delete everything. And I’ll never know the truth.
Desmond put his head in his hands. Grace I feel like I’m going crazy. I don’t know what’s real anymore….
