Amanda caught Alex at the door as he rushed to work. “Your wallet!” she said, handing it over with a smile. He kissed her cheek and promised, “I’ll be home early for some us-time.”
After he left, she buzzed through chores and flopped onto the couch. A ringtone chirped nearby, and she dug Alex’s phone from under a cushion. An unknown number flashed before it hit voicemail.
A boy’s voice piped up, “Hi, Dad! I’m waiting—come soon!” Amanda’s heart sank at “Dad.” She couldn’t unlock the phone to call back, and suspicion clawed at her.
Was Alex cheating? She dialed his assistant, Jerry, voice shaky. “Is Alex there?” she asked. “No, I’m covering him today,” Jerry replied, and her stomach dropped.
A kid calling him Dad, skipping work—lies stacked up fast. Then Alex burst in, frantic. “My phone—seen it?” he asked. She hid her anger behind a grin.
“I’ll check the bedroom,” she said, grabbing it. She slipped her GPS fitness band into his car as he bolted out. Waving him off, she followed close behind.
He took his usual route, then veered off. Twenty minutes later, he parked at a modest house. Amanda watched him carry a gift inside, her pulse racing.
A boy ran out, and Alex scooped him up, heading next door. She peeked in—Alex kissed the kid’s cheek. Fury hit; she stormed inside. “Who’s this, Alex?”
“Daddy, who’s she?” the boy asked. Alex sent him away, face pale. “He’s my son,” he confessed. “Four years—I’ve got another family.”
“Four years?” she gasped, reeling. “You think I’ll just take half and walk away?” He hung his head. “I messed up—we’re just habit now.”
“No way!” she snapped, racing home to wine and tears. Her teen son, Dylan, sat beside her. “What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked softly.
“Your dad cheated,” she slurred, bitter. Dylan sighed, “I knew—he told me.” Her jaw dropped. “You hid it?” she yelled, betrayed.
“I begged him to confess,” Dylan said. “We didn’t want you hurt.” “Out!” she roared, and he left. Alone, she hatched a plan.
She hit Alex’s office, charming past Jerry to his safe. Using Dylan’s birthday, she cracked it—tax evasion papers. “Meet me,” she told Alex, “or these go to the cops.”
He stormed in, livid. “What’s this?” She tossed copies at him. “Ditch them, or jail.” He cried, “That saved Dylan’s surgery!”
Dylan burst in. “Mom, stop! Dad kept me alive—I’m done with you.” Alex added, “I’m not coming back—do it.” Both left her fuming.
Her revenge darkened. At her old casino job, she met Mr. Rodriguez. “I need a hitman,” she said, sliding Alex’s photo over. “Accident—money’s no issue.”
Days later, at a park, she handed a man $20,000. “Make it brutal, no traces,” she ordered. “I pity you,” he said, and a cop cuffed her—a setup.
Alex and Dylan stood by the cruiser. “The casino tipped us,” Alex said. Dylan’s tears stung as she sank into custody, her world shattered.
