CHAPTER SIX

#Joel’s POV#

The next morning.

The door swings open, and I step in with the sun behind me and a headache between my eyes. The hallway smells like someone’s burned toast. Or cheap perfume. I don’t care to tell which.

I drop my keys in the dish by the entrance, loosen my collar, and start unbuttoning my shirt.

I should’ve stayed at Hillary’s. Or maybe gone to Teena’s. Anywhere but this cursed villa.

But something told me to come back early.

Something told me I needed to see what the hell was going on in my house.

And I do.

I walk into my room—

And stop.

Just. Stop.

My blood goes cold.

There, tangled under the sheets of my matrimonial bed, is him. Rico.

And her.

Dorothy.

My wife.

His bare chest rises slowly with sleep. One of his legs is kicked over the sheet. My sheet. My bed. She’s curled beside him like a quiet little question mark. Her hair fanned out. The old shirt she’s wearing isn’t even hers. It looks like it's his.

I blink.

My vision tints red.

“What. The. Fuck.”

My voice isn’t loud. It doesn’t have to be.

Rico wakes first, eyes cracking open. He frowns like he’s still in a dream. Then slowly blinks again.

And realizes.

“Oh... shit,” he mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

“What the actual hell is this?” I thunder as I step fully into the room.

“I—” he gestures weakly, looking around like the furniture’s going to give him an answer. “I thought this was the guest room…”

I laugh. Cold. Cruel.

“You thought? This is my fucking room.”

He winces. Rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay. I—shit. I remember. She was drunk, I was cleaning her up, and I must’ve dozed off…”

My eyes snap to her.

Dorothy shifts.

Her eyelids flutter slowly, and when she sees me towering in the doorway, she bolts upright.

I don’t wait for her to speak.

I round on Rico. “Get the fuck out.”

“What?” He stands now, shirtless, still groggy.

“Out. Now. Before I drag you out myself.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Excuse me?! You’re half-naked beside my wife—in my bed—and you think I’m overreacting?”

“I didn’t touch her!”

I lunge.

He steps back with his hands raised. “I said—I didn’t touch her! She was drunk, and I took care of her. That’s it.”

I snarl. “Don’t lie to me, Rico. You’ve always wanted what’s mine.”

“Oh please,” he snaps, suddenly angry. “You think this is about you? You think I want to be here? Playing breeder to your broken little legacy scheme?”

I see red.

“I swear to God, say that again. Say it. Say the word.”

Rico steps forward, nose-to-nose now.

“Broken. Infertile. Impotent. Whatever you want to call it… your bloodline ends with you.”

My fist balls.

Dorothy’s voice pierces into our confrontation.

“Stop!”

We both turn.

She’s standing there, breathing hard.

Rico looks at her.

She looks at him.

And my heart twists.

Because the way they’re staring at each other?

It’s not nothing.

It’s not fucking nothing.

I step back.

Like I’ve been slapped.

“Rico,” I say, low and deadly. “Out. Now.”

He shakes his head. “You won’t even let me explain—”

“Out!”

His nostrils flare.

But he walks.

Barefoot. Shirtless. Silent.

He slams the door on the way out.

Dorothy hesitates. Her gaze follows him.

Then she runs after him, calling his name. “Rico! Rico, wait!”

I stand there in the quiet of the wreckage.

My heart is beating like a war drum.

She comes back a few minutes later. Empty-handed and breathless.

Her face is flushed.

I don’t say anything.

She does.

“You’re so dramatic,” she spits.

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You’re childish. And pathetic. And the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever met.”

My voice drops. “You’re defending him now?”

“I’m defending logic! You kicked him out like some homewrecker and you didn’t even ask what happened! I was drunk, Joel. Nothing happened. You made sure to ask everyone else before you ever cared about me!”

I scoff. “You were in bed. With him.”

“Fully clothed.”

“Barefoot,” I bark.

“Oh, please!” she laughs bitterly. “Like I haven’t walked in on you half-naked with women who don’t even know your middle name!”

I say nothing.

“You think I forgot you weren’t even here last night? That you were out with Felicia or Chrissy or whoever the hell’s next on your rotation?”

I look away.

She steps closer.

“This was your idea, wasn’t it? I wanted to go to a sperm bank. I wanted to find a random donor, someone we’d never see again. But nooo, you said your precious family lineage can’t be passed on by a ‘nobody.’ So we had to call your cousin, who you hate with all your guts, to father the child of your wife. And now—now you want to act like a jealous, nagging wife yourself? Now it’s a problem?”

I slam my hand against the wall.

“Who the fuck says I’m jealous?!” I roar.