LOGINAva got dressed and all pretty to leave for her dinner date at Sin City Restaurant with DeMarco.“Wow! You look so awesome. So you are hanging out with your man tonight, right?” “Yeah, I haven't made any plans to go anywhere tonight. Look how handsome you look.”“It's not too much, is it? I wanted to look exceptionally good for you.”“No, No, not at all.”“Alright. Well, let's get ready to leave.” They walk over to the door, Ava slips into her high sandals.“Come here and let me hug you. You look so pretty, stop worrying. I think you will be upset at first, but then extremely happy afterward. If you don't want me to spring this on you, I don't have to. Okay?”“I want to know. I'm so glad you're here with me, and we are together.”Ava thought about her parents, who would simply die if they knew she was married to this man and had never gotten a divorce. No, they probably would kill her first and then drop dead. Ava shook her head at the image.Ava doesn't want to think about her very
The secrecy was eating him alive. Every evening, every cold silence, every time Ava’s eyes darted away when he tried to meet her gaze—DeMarco felt something inside him unravel, thread by careful thread. He tried to ignore it, to tell himself that things would get better, that their conversation about trying again meant something. But the questions gnawed at him. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus at work. His mind spun with a thousand possibilities, each more poisonous than the last.He needed answers. Real answers, not the vague explanations or tired expressions that Ava offered. So, with trembling hands and a sense of shame he couldn’t shake, DeMarco did what he had always sworn he wouldn’t: he hired a private investigator.The man’s name was Garret. He was older, with a lined face and steady, unfazed eyes. He didn’t seem surprised by DeMarco’s story—just listened, nodding, scribbling notes in a battered notebook. “You want to know the truth,” he said, and DeMarco nodded, feeling hi
The manila envelope sat on the kitchen counter, its presence growing heavier by the day. It had arrived the week before, addressed in the lawyer’s precise script to both Ava and DeMarco, as if some formality could soften the blow. Neither of them had moved it. It was as if the envelope itself were radioactive, some dangerous relic that might detonate if disturbed.DeMarco stared at it each morning, mug of coffee in hand, willing himself to act. Sometimes he caught Ava glancing at it too, her lips pressed in a thin line, but she never reached for it. The silence between them stretched, thick and awkward, punctuated only by the city's sounds drifting through the window.He wondered how things had come to this. The ranch house was still the same—freshly painted and clean —and they purchased a few new furnishings to make it a home. Their home.Over the months, they acquired photos of the two of them in love, all hugged up. —but everything else felt different. Colder, emptier. The laughte
Ava’s behavior grew more suspicious with each passing week. Her weekends were a blur of parties and laughter, always ending with her stumbling in just as dawn broke. During the week, she waited until DeMarco had drifted into sleep before slipping out, only to return before his alarm sounded. He noticed the pattern, but dread knotted in his stomach. He wasn’t ready to ask questions; he wasn’t sure he wanted to be answered. Their marriage still felt fragile, as if a single confrontation could shatter it. Night after night, Ava came home at odd hours, her stories vague or nonexistent, leaving DeMarco trapped in silent turmoil. Monday night, the pattern repeated itself. DeMarco lay in bed, sheets tangled around his legs, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he listened to the faint sounds from the living room. Ava’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor, a distant jingle of keys, the soft thud of the front door closing. He waited—counted the seconds as the old radiator hissed and the apartmen
Sin City simmers in the afterglow of Ava’s performance and her incendiary exchange with DeMarco. The DJ spins something glittering and fast, but DeMarco lingers in the shadows, the ghost of her perfume still haunting him. The club feels different now—charged, restless, as if every patron senses the storm brewing between the unknown owner and his new obsession.DeMarco thought of her each day and night. Her strengths and her vulnerabilities. He wanted to give her everything she desired. Hold her in his arms, shower her with kisses while her legs wrap around his waist. There was no doubt she wanted him the way he wanted her. He wanted to fix all her problems and keep her safe.She kept coming back because he was one of the few people who made her feel comfortable in her own skin. He felt the connection, and he wondered if she felt it too. Or was it just him?Nate finds him by the bar, swirling a whiskey. “You gonna brood all night, or actually make a move? Why are you making this so com
Sin City hums with anticipation after Ava's daring performance, which I wasn't expecting. DeMarco moves through the crowd, but his mind is restless, replaying the memory of her voice, her confidence, the way she owned every inch of the stage. He feels the urge to see her again, but fights to keep his composure.He’s the owner, after all—he’s supposed to be untouchable.As he glances toward the entrance, she appears, cutting through the crowd in emerald green, her dress hugging every curve with unapologetic elegance. Her gaze is cool, but tonight there’s a hint of heat—a challenge, a promise. DeMarco’s pulse quickens. He watches her, every step, every sway, every flicker of her lashes.Nate slides up beside him, smirking. “You look like a man waiting for a miracle.”DeMarco shrugs, eyes never leaving Ava. “I’m just admiring the scenery.”“Right,” Nate laughs, “and I’m just here for the appetizers.”Ava makes her way to the bar, her presence commanding attention. DeMarco’s usual confide
DeMarco woke with a pounding headache, his mouth dry and the sunlight stabbing through his eyelids. As he lay there, his mind raced through the fog—what had he done last night? Flashes of laughter, swirling lights, and the clink of glasses came to him in fragments. He remembered running through cit
A heavy silence blanketed the living room, only broken by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Ava sat rigid on the edge of the brocade settee, her mother’s hand at her back—gentle, but firm as a shackle. Across the room, her father’s face was a mask of disappointment and wounded pride
Ava’s voice trembled, though she tried to sound firm. Her heart hammered in her chest, a sharp, guilty ache blooming behind her ribs. She tried not to look at him, afraid her resolve would crumble beneath DeMarco’s surprised but steady gaze.I said, "DeMarco. My wedding is in a few hours. I have to
They head out to the justice of the peace, and DeMarco hailed the first cab and flagged it down. DeMarco gives the cabbie the address as he pulls her flush against him. Ava snakes her legs over his as their lips finally land in an explosive kiss for the first time. The fact that they were in the ba







