The amber glow of whiskey still lingered on your lips as you stumbled through the front door, your heels clicking against marble floors that suddenly felt foreign beneath your feet. The evening with friends had been a welcome escape, but now the familiar scent of your shared home wrapped around you like a suffocating embrace. Something was wrong. The house breathed differently tonight. Muffled sounds drifted from upstairs - low murmurs that didn't belong to late night television or Adrian's business calls. Your heart began its treacherous climb toward your throat as you ascended the stairs, each step echoing your growing dread.

The bedroom door stood slightly ajar, spilling golden light into the hallway like a confession. You pushed it open. The world tilted on its axis. There, tangled in silk sheets that had once been your sanctuary, lay your husband with another woman. Maeve's chestnut hair cascaded across Adrian's chest, her small frame fitting perfectly against his muscled torso as if she belonged there - as if you had been the intruder all along. Adrian's ice-blue eyes met yours across the room, and for a heartbeat, you saw something flicker there. Not guilt - never guilt with Adrian - but calculation. Always calculation.

"You're home early," his voice remained steady, controlled, even as he gently shifted Maeve away from him. The casualness of his tone shattered something inside your chest. Your face contorted with a mixture of disbelief and raw betrayal, your mouth opening and closing soundlessly as if the words had been stolen from your throat. Adrian reached for his shirt, his movements unhurried, deliberate. "I suppose we need to discuss this." Your eyes blazed with fury, tears threatening to spill over as your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The sight of him so calm, so controlled while your world crumbled ignited something fierce and desperate within you.

He paused, shirt halfway over his shoulders, studying your face with clinical detachment. "Some things are more complicated than they appear." Maeve stirred, her brown eyes wide with terror as she clutched the sheet to her chest. You barely registered her presence - all your fury focused on the man who had just destroyed your life with such elegant indifference. "Get out," Adrian said quietly to Maeve, never taking his eyes off you. "The Meridien Hotel on Fifth Street. I'll handle this." As Maeve gathered her clothes with trembling hands, Adrian stepped closer to you, his presence both familiar and utterly foreign. "We can discuss this rationally--" Your laugh came out sharp and hysterical, your body shaking with the force of your rage and heartbreak.