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 that I’d saved up for, but my husband, Eric… he seemed perfectly at ease. Too at ease, now that I think about it.
A nervous woman and her partner | Source: Midjourney
“Stick with me tonight, okay?” I’d asked him, looping my arm through his as we walked in.
He nodded, but his eyes were already wandering, searching for something — or someone — I couldn’t see.
The first hour or so passed in a blur of small talk and glasses of champagne. I lost sight of Eric at some point, assuming he was just getting another drink or chatting with someone. But when I didn’t see him for a while, a knot began to form in my stomach.
That’s when Richard found me.
A man and woman | Source: Midjourney
“Denise, have you seen Vanessa?” His voice was casual, but there was a tightness around his eyes. Vanessa was his wife, a woman who exuded confidence and poise.
I shook my head, that knot in my stomach twisting tighter. “No, I haven’t. Have you seen Eric?”
We exchanged a look then, one of those silent, shared understandings that something wasn’t right. Without another word, we both started searching.
Room after room, hallway after hallway, all the while my heart pounded louder and louder in my ears. When we finally reached the attic door, I think I already knew.
A door | Source: Unsplash
The door creaked open, and there they were. Eric and Vanessa, wrapped up in each other like they couldn’t get close enough. They didn’t even notice us until I gasped.
Eric’s face… God, I’ll never forget it. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, like he was about to stammer out some pathetic excuse, but no words came. And Vanessa… she just looked bored, like she’d been caught in something inconvenient rather than something devastating.
I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t look at them, or at Richard, who stood frozen beside me.
A shocked man and woman | Source: Midjourney
I turned and walked away, every step heavier than the last. My whole world was crumbling, and all I could do was put one foot in front of the other, trying not to fall apart.
When I got home, I thought I would break down. But I didn’t. I was numb, hollowed out by the betrayal. Eric walked in not long after me, and I waited for him to say something, anything to make sense of what I’d seen.
“Why, Eric?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but it was all I could manage. “Why her? Why now?”
A woman with sad eyes | Source: Pexels
At first, he just stood there like he was the one who’d been hurt. Finally, he looked at me, and his eyes were colder than I’d ever seen them. “Does it really matter? It’s done, Denise. And you should leave.”
I blinked, trying to process his words. “Leave? This is our home, Eric.”
“No,” he said, his tone as flat as his expression. “It’s my grandmother’s house. You have no claim here. You should go. Vanessa will be here soon.”
His words hit me like a slap, the final blow in a night full of them.
A woman arguing with her husband | Source: Midjourney
I packed what little I could into a suitcase, and ended up staying in a dingy motel on the outskirts of town. The bed was lumpy, the walls paper-thin, and the lights flickered whenever I turned them on.
I was barely holding it together, trying to figure out what the hell to do next, when the knock came. It was past midnight, and for a second, I thought I was imagining things. But there it was again, louder this time.
My heart leaped into my throat. Who on earth would be at my door at this hour?
A woman in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
“Denise, it’s me,” came a voice from the other side.
I froze. Richard? What was he doing here?
I pulled the door open, and there he stood, dressed like he’d just come from some kind of heist movie. But it wasn’t his clothes that caught my attention.
It was the look on his face, tired but with a glint of something else. Mischief, maybe. Or madness. Whatever it was, it sent a shiver down my spine.
“Richard, what the —” I started, but he cut me off, pushing past me into the room like he owned the place.
A woman at her hotel room door | Source: Midjourney
“Denise, you look like hell.” He dropped a bag on the bed, eyeing me up and down as if he expected me to start yelling or throwing things. “Which is understandable, given the circumstances.”
I sighed, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here? It’s late, Richard. And… what’s in the bag?”
He ignored my question, his eyes scanning the dingy motel room. “This place,” he said, wrinkling his nose, “is a dump. You can’t stay here indefinitely.”
A man in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not like I have a lot of options right now.”
Richard turned to me, his expression softening. “Denise, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.” He took a breath, then let out a low, mirthless chuckle. “Actually, I came to make you feel better. Or at least give you a chance to.”
I raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going with this. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?”
He unzipped the bag, and when I saw what was inside, I felt my stomach drop.
A horrified woman and a duffle bag | Source: Midjourney
Rats. Dozens of them, squirming around in cages. My first reaction was to back away, but Richard grinned like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Richard, what are you planning to do with those?”
He finally looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous light. “You and I both know we can’t undo what Eric and Vanessa did. But,” he paused, a sly smile playing on his lips, “we can at least have a little fun, right?”
A man with a devilish grin | Source: Midjourney
Fun. That word sounded so foreign at that moment, so wrong. I stared at him, trying to understand what he was suggesting. When it finally clicked, I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
“You want revenge,” I said slowly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Richard shrugged. “Revenge, justice, call it what you want. All I know is they deserve something for what they did. And you, Denise… you deserve to get some of your power back.”
Two people talking | Source: Midjourney
I looked down at the rats, my mind spinning. I wasn’t the kind of person who did things like this. But then I thought of Eric’s cold eyes as he told me to leave, of Vanessa’s bored expression when we found them together.
My chest tightened with a mix of anger and pain that was too much to hold onto any longer.
“You still have the key to the house?” Richard asked quietly, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts.
I nodded, my heart pounding. “Yeah. I do.”
A man and woman talking | Source: Midjourney
The drive to the house was quiet. Richard sat next to me, his eyes focused on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. I kept thinking about how one night could turn my life upside down in ways I never imagined.
And now, here I was, about to break into my own home — no, not mine anymore — with a bag full of rats. It felt like some twisted nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
When we pulled up to the house, I hesitated.
A house at night | Source: Midjourney
But Richard was already out of the car, waiting for me to unlock the door. My hands were shaking so badly it took me three tries to get the key into the lock.
The door creaked open, and I stepped inside, the familiar scent of the house hitting me like a wave. Memories flooded back but I squashed them down. This wasn’t the time to break down.
“Upstairs,” Richard whispered, nudging me forward. “They’ll be asleep.”
We crept up the stairs, the wood creaking under our weight. When we reached the bedroom door, I froze. I could hear them breathing inside, unaware of what was about to happen. It made my blood boil.
A woman listening outside a bedroom door | Source: Midjourney
“Go ahead,” Richard murmured, handing me the bag. His eyes were dark, serious now. We were really going to do this.
I opened the bag, my fingers trembling, and slowly tipped it over, letting the rats spill out onto the floor. They scurried off into the shadows, disappearing into the room.
Richard grabbed my arm, and we bolted down the stairs, out the door, and back into the car. We sat there in silence, the tension between us electric. Then, faintly, we heard the first scream.
A man and woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
Vanessa’s voice, shrill and panicked, pierced the night air. Eric’s shouts followed, angry, confused. And then Richard started laughing. It wasn’t just a chuckle; it was full-on, uncontrollable laughter.
I couldn’t help it — I started laughing too. The sound of their fear, their panic, was like a release, breaking the tension of the horrible night.
When we finally calmed down, Richard turned to me, still grinning. “How about some breakfast? There’s a diner nearby that’s open all night.”
A diner | Source: Pexels
“Breakfast?” I echoed, still catching my breath. It sounded so normal after what we’d just done. But normal was what I needed. Something to ground me, to make this all feel less insane.
“Yeah,” I said, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. “And you know what, Richard? In two days, we’re going on a proper date. A real one, no rats involved.”
He raised an eyebrow, then slowly grinned. “It’s a date.”
A man grinning at a woman | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: Adelaide’s perfect world shatters when security footage catches her husband in an intimate moment. Shocked and betrayed, Adelaide musters the courage to use the damning evidence to secure her future, setting off a chain of events that will change her life forever. Click here to read more.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
