I should have known something was wrong the moment we walked into my boss Richard’s mansion that night. I felt out of place in my little black dress, the one I’d saved up for months to buy, but my husband, Eric, looked perfectly at ease. Too at ease.

“Stick with me tonight, okay?” I whispered, looping my arm through his.

He nodded, but his eyes were already darting across the room, searching for something — or someone.

The first hour passed in a blur of small talk and champagne. At some point, I lost sight of Eric. At first, I brushed it off, assuming he was just mingling. But as the minutes dragged on, a knot began to tighten in my stomach.

That’s when Richard appeared, his expression strained. “Denise, have you seen Vanessa?” he asked, referring to his wife — a woman of flawless poise and elegance.

I shook my head. “No… but have you seen Eric?”

We exchanged a look. No words were needed; both of us knew something was wrong. Together, we began searching the house.

Room after room, hallway after hallway — until we reached the attic. The moment my hand touched the knob, dread crawled through me.

The door creaked open, and there they were. Eric and Vanessa, locked together in a desperate embrace, too consumed to notice us until I gasped.

Eric froze, his face pale, eyes wide like a trapped animal. Vanessa barely flinched, just looked mildly inconvenienced, as if we’d interrupted a dull chore.

I couldn’t stand there another second. My chest caved in as I turned away, Richard rigid beside me. My marriage, my dignity — all shattered in a single moment.

At home, numbness replaced the pain. When Eric finally arrived, I asked the only question I could manage: “Why her, Eric? Why now?”

He didn’t answer right away. And when he finally did, his words sliced me open. “Does it matter? It’s done. You should leave.”

I blinked. “Leave? This is our home.”

He scoffed, cold and detached. “It’s my grandmother’s house. You don’t belong here. Vanessa will be here soon.”

The final blow. I packed my things and left, dragging my suitcase to a cheap motel with flickering lights and paper-thin walls. I thought that would be the end. But the knock came just past midnight.

“Denise, it’s me.”

Richard.

I opened the door cautiously. He stepped in, dropping a heavy duffel bag onto the bed. His eyes held something dangerous — a spark of mischief mixed with fury.

“This dump doesn’t suit you,” he muttered, glancing around. “I came to give you an option.”

My pulse quickened. “An option for what?”

He unzipped the bag. Inside: cages filled with squirming rats.

My breath caught. “Richard… what are you planning?”

His lips curled into a sly smile. “We can’t undo what they did. But we can give them a taste of chaos. Revenge, justice — call it what you like. They deserve it. And you… you deserve to take back some power.”

I stared at the rats, torn between horror and a rising, bitter satisfaction. Eric’s cold dismissal replayed in my head. Vanessa’s indifferent face flashed before my eyes. The rage that had been festering finally cracked open.

“I still have the key,” I whispered.

The drive back was silent. When we reached the house, my hands trembled as I unlocked the door. The scent of memories I no longer owned hit me hard, but I pushed it down.

We crept upstairs. From behind the bedroom door came the steady rhythm of their breathing.

Richard pressed the bag into my hands. My pulse thundered in my ears. I opened the zipper. One by one, the rats scurried out, vanishing into the dark.

We fled. Down the stairs, out the door, into the car.

Then it came — Vanessa’s scream, shrill and raw, followed by Eric’s furious shouts. Richard burst into laughter, wild and unrestrained, and to my shock, I joined him. The sound was ugly, cathartic, freeing.

When the laughter died, Richard turned to me, grinning. “How about breakfast? There’s a diner nearby.”

The suggestion sounded absurdly normal after what we’d just done. But maybe normal was what I needed.

“Yeah,” I said, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. “And in two days, Richard, we go on a real date. No rats involved.”

His eyes lit up. “It’s a deal.”

For the first time in 24 hours, I didn’t feel powerless. I felt alive.