I was on the Acela Express, heading north out of the city, when I saw him: the kind of handsome that makes you stop breathing for a second, watching porn on his phone. He wasn’t even using headphones. “Hey,” I whispered, leaning over the armrest. “You might want to turn that down.” He didn’t look up. “It’s my home security feed.” “Oh. My bad.” I sank back into my seat. “Sorry about that… man.” What else do you say to a guy watching his own cheating partner? He finally glanced at me, and his eyes were pure murder. Still, I felt a pang of sympathy for him. That is, until I saw the tattoo in the video. A familiar, intricate design of a succubus, its wings wrapped around the man’s bicep. My blood went cold. No. Fucking. Way. 1 “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!” I snatched the phone from his hand, my face so close to the screen I could feel the static. My fingers were trembling. It wasn't possible. The universe couldn't be that cruel, that specific. But the lean, muscular man on the screen, naked from the waist up with a stomach I knew better than my own—that was Liam. We grew up together. We’d been together for eight years. I’d know him anywhere. We were supposed to get married next month. The thought hit me like a physical blow. My eyes instantly flooded, and my chest felt like it had been split wide open, a cold wind howling through the new, empty space. He was cheating on me. Liam was cheating on me. “Someone’s excited,” the guy next to me drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. He was watching me now, his chin propped on his hand. “First time seeing the main event?” He was right. It was the first time I’d seen Liam from this angle. Right now, my fiancé was kneeling before a pair of legs in black stockings, a gleaming silver chain fastened around his neck. The raw, explicit image slammed into my brain. The woman’s ecstatic moans filled the air from the phone's tiny speakers. It was all too much. My stomach lurched, my throat tightened, and a wave of nausea crested over me. I turned and threw up, the contents of my stomach landing squarely in the handsome stranger’s lap. Oh, wow. That’s… vivid. “Agh—!” He let out a strangled cry, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth as he shot up from his seat, scrambling for the restroom. A few minutes later, he returned, a dark, wet patch staining the front of his expensive-looking jeans. The murderous look was back in his eyes, tenfold. But I didn't give him a chance to tear into me. The train was pulling into the station. My station. I had to find Liam. I had to get an explanation. I needed to slap his face until my hand went numb and then I needed to—well, let’s just say I had plans for his “equipment.” I grabbed my bag and stood over the guy. “Where do you live? Take me there. Now.” He raised an eyebrow, a look of incredulous disgust on his face. “What, you didn’t get enough of the show? You want a front-row seat?” “Don’t you?” I shot back. He studied me, his suspicion warring with a dawning realization. “Look, I obviously do, but what’s it to you? If you’re into this stuff, I can give you some websites, you don’t have to get… weird about it.” Right. I was being weird. It was my own fault. I was trying so hard to hold it together, to be angry and strong, but the tears were streaming down my face now, hot and unstoppable. His expression softened slightly as he took in my red, swollen eyes. Comprehension finally clicked into place. “Oh, fuck. No way. You’re telling me that’s your…?” “He’s my fiancé,” I choked out. “The one I’m supposed to marry next month.” He sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, all the animosity vanished, replaced by a flicker of something else. He looked at me, dead serious, and said, “My condolences.” “Save it,” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “We’re in the same goddamn boat. So, are you coming or not? We have a cheating to catch.” A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “Catching them? Oh, we’re going to do a hell of a lot more than that.” 2 On the way to his house, I learned his name was Rhys, and the woman in the video was his fiancée. He was supposed to be in Boston for a business trip but had decided to come back a day early to surprise her for her birthday. Looks like the surprise was on him. “So what were you coming here for?” he asked, his tone casual as he navigated the highway. My heart was a lead weight in my stomach. The last thing I wanted was small talk. I just wanted this nightmare to be over. “A psychic told me I had a dark cloud over my head today,” I mumbled. “Came to see if she was right.” The truth, of course, was much more mundane. I was coming to finalize wedding details with Liam. The caterer, the seating charts—all the little things you can’t sort out over text. He’d been on this consulting gig for weeks, too busy to come home, so I’d decided to come to him. I was supposed to be surprising him, too. “Holy shit, they’re still going at it,” Rhys said, his eyes flicking down to the phone mounted on his dashboard. He let out a low whistle. “I’ll give him this, your boyfriend’s got stamina. Is he… always this adventurous?” I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. I didn’t know what to say. Because the Liam I knew, the man I slept next to, was a completely different person from the one on that screen. It was like I’d never met him at all. “Oh, look at that. He’s brought out the candles and the whip. Check out the arch on your boyfriend’s back… Damn, makes you just want to smack it.” He held the phone out to me. I recoiled. “Stop it. Aren't you embarrassed?” “Embarrassed? Are you kidding me? This is exhilarating!” He threw his head back and laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. “What a rich and beautiful life experience!” I decided not to engage. The man was clearly unhinged. I stared out the window, watching the green blur of the suburbs fly by. My heart was pounding against my ribs, my palms slick with sweat. Was I really ready for this? What would I even say when I saw Liam? Forget saying anything. I’d just act. The rage was already simmering, a pressure building inside me. To not let it out now would be like holding in a sneeze. Unnatural. Unhealthy. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The car turned into a private, gated community, the kind with sprawling lawns and houses the size of hotels. So, Rhys was rich. Which meant his fiancée… Stop it, Clara, I scolded myself. Focus. “Don’t be nervous,” Rhys said, his voice strangely calm. “The first time catching a cheater is always the hardest. It gets easier.” He glanced at me. “I’ll go in first when we open the door. I’m worried the shock might make you… projectile vomit again.” “Okay. I’ll follow you.” I was wringing my hands in my lap, a bundle of nerves. “You, uh… you seem to have a lot of experience with this.” “Don’t ask,” he said with a wry grin. “Let’s just say I’m a man with a past.” There was no time to ask for more. We were here. 3 He parked in the driveway but didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, babe. I’m home. Can you come down and open the door for me?” The voice on the other end was a flurry of panic. “Rhys? What… why are you back so early? I thought you weren't coming until next week.” “Change of plans. What, not happy to see me?” “Of course I am! Just… just give me a second.” “What are you doing? You sound out of breath.” “Oh, you know. Just got off the Peloton.” “Alright. Well, I’m waiting. Hurry up.” He hung up and glanced at the security feed on his other phone, a wicked glint in his eye. “You’re being childish,” I said, my voice tight. “Just open the door.” “Where’s the fun in that?” He smirked. “Look at them scramble.” On the screen, two naked bodies were frantically pulling on clothes. I watched, mesmerized in horror, as Liam—my Liam—scrambled out of sight, disappearing under the bed. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I pulled out my own phone and dialed him. After a few rings, he picked up. “Where are you?” I asked, my voice dangerously sweet. “You didn't answer before.” He whispered, his voice hushed and urgent. “I’m with a client, Clara. I told you this morning, it’s a huge meeting. Please don’t call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll call you when I’m done.” He hung up. Okay, Liam. Let’s see how you finish this meeting. Let’s see if you get out of there in one piece. “Ready?” Rhys asked. I took a shuddering breath. “Ready. Open it.” Click. The smart lock disengaged. A woman in a pink lace robe appeared in the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a messy halo around her head. My eyes scanned the room behind her, instantly catching the black stockings peeking out of a half-closed dresser drawer. The ones from the video. The air in the room was thick with a cloying, fishy smell that made my stomach turn. I thought of the frantic images from the security feed, and the nausea returned. Breathe, Clara, breathe. The woman was wiping at her smeared lipstick, forcing a bright, flirtatious smile. “Silly, you could have just let yourself in. Making me come all the way downstairs. Honestly, honey.” Then her eyes landed on me. “And… who is this?” “Her?” Rhys said, stepping inside. “She’s here to catch a cheater.” “Wh-what?” “I said,” Rhys repeated, his voice dropping an octave, “she’s here with me to catch a cheater. Sloane, I think we can drop the act now, don’t you?” The woman, Sloane, was visibly panicking, but she held her ground. “What act? Rhys, what the hell are you talking about? Are you accusing me of cheating on you?” “Am I wrong?” “Where’s your proof?” Rhys let out a cold laugh. He held up his phone, the video playing in a loop. “I installed cameras weeks ago. Did you really think I was that stupid, Sloane? After last time? After everything you promised me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. In one fluid motion, he strode to the bed, grabbed the edge of the mattress, and flipped it into the air with a deafening thump. And there he was. My Liam. Curled up on the floor, still wearing that ridiculous silver chain around his neck, exposed to the world. 4 “Honey, it’s not what it looks like, I can explain!” Sloane grabbed Rhys’s arm, her voice pleading. “The bed was broken, he’s… he’s a handyman! I don’t even know him! I love you, you know I would never—” SLAP. The sound echoed in the silent room. I had yanked her away from Rhys and struck her across the face, my palm stinging. “I am so fucking sick of this!” I screamed, my voice raw. “There are cameras! We just told you there are cameras! Are you that stupid? Do you think we’re idiots?” She stared at me, stunned into silence. Rhys and Liam were frozen, their eyes wide. I had snapped. Something inside me had just completely and utterly broken. I was done talking. Done thinking. Why waste my breath? The words were just getting stuck in my throat anyway, choking me. Eight years of my life, our wedding next month, the man I loved hiding under another woman’s bed… The blood roared in my ears, a hot, violent rush to my head. My eyes met Liam’s, and the fury inside me exploded. I’d unconsciously grabbed a golf club from a bag leaning against the wall. Now, I swung it, the heavy iron connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack. “Weren’t you with a client?” I shrieked, swinging again. “So this is your client? All this time, and I never knew you moonlighted as a fucking gigolo? You make me sick, Liam! You’re disgusting! You don’t deserve to live!” I hit him again and again, screaming and crying, lost in a red haze of pure rage. Sloane, snapped out of her stupor, tried to pull me away. I shoved her back with my free hand and, in a blind fury, swept my arm across her vanity, sending a cascade of expensive perfumes and makeup crashing to the floor. I snatched a piece of the shattered mirror and lunged at her, scratching it across her face. She screamed, collapsing to the ground, a bloody mess, and didn't move again. “Clara, calm down! Just listen to me, please!” Liam grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, forcing me to look at him. “It’s not what you think!” “Not what I think? I saw it, Liam! I saw everything! You played me for a fool, and now you want me to be calm? Calm this!” I wrenched my arm free, grabbed a broken perfume bottle from the floor, and drove the jagged edge straight into his crotch. A gut-wrenching scream tore from his throat, a sound of pure agony that echoed off the walls. He collapsed, clutching himself, and didn't get up. “You’re insane, Clara!” he gasped from the floor. “Yes! I am! You fucking drove me to this!” “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” “I know exactly what I’m doing! I want you gone, you piece of shit! Isn’t it obvious?” I stood over his writhing form, my whole body shaking. “Eight years, Liam! I gave you eight years of my life! Do you have any idea what that means? We were getting married! Married! I was going to give you everything, and this is how you repay me?” The memories—the good ones, the ones I had cherished—flashed through my mind, and the anger finally gave way to a wave of gut-wrenching sorrow. I sank to my knees and sobbed, the sound raw and broken in the wrecked room. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see Rhys, holding his phone up. “Hey,” he whispered, “try not to cry. I’m live-streaming this. It ruins the power dynamic.” “You’re… what? A live-stream?” I looked at his phone screen. The viewer count was ticking rapidly past one million. The world went dark at the edges, and I thought I was going to faint.
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