“She took it! She took the evidence!” he sobbed, clutching his hair. “I’m ruined, Bianca. I don’t have access to a single dime. The joint accounts are drained. I have nothing.”

The change in Bianca was instant and brutal. The doting mistress vanished, replaced by a predator seeing an empty trap.

“You’re telling me,” she hissed, stepping over his trembling legs, “you dragged me to this depressing, stinking house promising me a mansion, and you’re actually a broke, unemployed loser?”

“Please — just give me a few days to fix this. I’ll call Richard!”

The crack of her palm across his cheek rang out like a gunshot through the speaker. His head snapped sideways.

“Don’t ever call my number again, you pathetic liar.” She grabbed her weekender bag, and the front door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows, leaving Mark alone in the shell of his life.