The Bottom Line: His Suffering

My husband Gabriel's affair with his young protégée, Kaia, had already cost me everything. Our marriage was a hollow shell, and his cruelty had even led to the miscarriage of our child, leaving me broken.

But the day he defended Kaia by slapping my ten-year-old niece, Bea, so hard he ruptured her eardrum, something inside me finally snapped for good.

He stood over her small, unconscious body and screamed, "She deserved it!"

He had already financially ruined my brother and now had brutalized a child-all to protect his mistress.

The man I had loved for sixteen years was a monster.

All the pain and grief I'd carried for so long burned away, leaving only cold, hard resolve.

He expected tears. He expected hysterics. Instead, when I found him at the hospital, I walked straight up to him and slapped him across the face. "My family is my bottom line, Gabriel," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You crossed it. And now, I will make you suffer."

Chapter 1

My stomach was a hollow ache, familiar and cold, a constant reminder of Gabriel' s absence. It wasn' t just a few nights or a business trip anymore; it was a ghost in our bed, an empty space at the dinner table. He was gone, absorbed by… other things. And I was tired of feeling this dull throb of abandonment.

I' d tried everything the therapists suggested. Journaling. Meditation. Even those ridiculous scented candles that promised inner peace. Nothing worked. The emptiness just grew. So, I decided to try something different. Something radical.

I found him through a discreet agency, one that specialized in… bespoke experiences. His name was Leo. He wasn' t Gabriel. Not truly. But he was close enough to fool my weary mind for a few hours. He had Gabriel' s height, the same dark, brooding eyes, even the slight stubble Gabriel always forgot to shave.

"The usual script tonight, Allison?" Leo asked, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly close to Gabriel' s. He stood in the doorway of our (my) master bedroom, a faint scent of the cologne Gabriel preferred clinging to him. It was unsettling, this perfect mimicry.

"Yes," I said, my voice thin. "Just… like he used to be."

He nodded, stepping inside. The room felt heavy with expectation. We moved through the motions like dancers in a morbid ballet. He sat on the edge of the bed, just as Gabriel would. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I knew so well.

"Another late night, sweetheart?" I asked, forcing the question out, forcing the hope into my tone. It was a line from our past, a decade ago, when those late nights were rare, and his return was a comfort.

Leo sighed. "Work, Allison. You know how it is."

It was Gabriel' s dismissive tone, the one that meant 'don' t ask, don' t pry.' My heart, despite itself, tightened. This was the part where my old self would try to push, to reason, to beg for a sliver of his attention. But I had to play it through.

"Is everything okay with the project?" I pressed, my voice a forced calm. My fingers twitched, wanting to reach out, wanting to shake him.

Leo stood up, walking to the window. He looked out at the city lights, his back to me. Just like Gabriel. "It' s fine. Just… complicated."

"Complicated how?" I asked. The air in the room grew thick. This was it. The real test. The moment the old wound would be reopened.

He turned, his eyes holding that familiar distant look. "Look, Allison. You worry too much. Kaia is a junior architect. She' s young, she' s enthusiastic. She needs guidance."

My breath hitched. Kaia. Even in this twisted simulation, her name was a dagger.

"Guidance?" I heard my voice, sharp and unfamiliar. "Is that what you call it, Gabriel?"

Leo' s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation, perfectly copying Gabriel' s. "Don' t start, Allison. I' m tired. I don' t need your accusations right now."

The old Gabriel, cold and dismissive. This wasn' t just a memory; it was a re-enactment of every gut-wrenching argument.

"Accusations?" I laughed, a brittle, humorless sound. "Is it an accusation to see what' s right in front of me? The late nights, the 'guidance,' the way you practically glow when you talk about her, even in front of me?"

He slammed his hand on the dresser. The sound echoed, making me flinch despite myself. "You' re being irrational! She' s an employee. Nothing more. Don' t you dare disrespect her, or me, with your baseless paranoia."

"Baseless?" My voice rose, cracking. "So, the dinner receipts aren' t real? The texts aren' t real? The whispered calls aren' t real?"

Leo stepped closer, his face a mask of controlled fury, Gabriel' s signature move before he' d unleash. "You' ve been spying on me? You' ve sunk that low?"

"I' m trying to save our marriage!" I yelled, the words tumbling out, raw and desperate, just like they used to.

He let out a harsh laugh. "Save it? You' re destroying it with your hysterics! Maybe if you weren' t so… demanding, so suspicious, I wouldn' t need a moment' s peace outside this stifling house!"

My chest burned. The familiar sting of injustice, the twisting knot of humiliation. He was blaming me. For his choices. For his betrayal.

"You think this is my fault?" I whispered, the rage a cold fire in my veins. "You think I drove you into another woman' s arms?"

He scoffed. "You' re exhausting, Allison. Always have been. Kaia… she just understands. She' s not constantly questioning me, pulling me down."

My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. This was the exact monologue Gabriel gave me a year ago, the night I found a diamond earring that wasn' t mine. The words were identical. The pain was just as real.

"So, she' s your escape, your fresh start?" I challenged, my voice shaking. "Is that what she is? A way out?"

Leo' s eyes hardened. "She' s a breath of fresh air. Something you haven' t been in a long time." He paused, then added, his voice dripping with condescension, "And if you keep pushing this, Allison, you' ll lose more than just my affection. You' ll lose everything."

The threat was clear. Financial ruin. Social exile. The complete dismantling of the life we' d built together. This wasn' t simulation anymore; it was my past, present, and terrifying future compressed into one cruel moment. My blood ran cold, then hot.

I wanted to scream. To break something. To shatter the mirror of this agonizing truth. But something in me snapped. Not in anger, but in a strange, chilling clarity. I was tired. So tired.

"Alright," I said, my voice eerily calm, the fury replaced by a profound emptiness. "Enough of that. Tonight, let' s do the other script, Leo."

He blinked, thrown off by my sudden shift. "The… the other one?"

"Yes," I said, walking towards the closet, pulling out a silk nightgown. "The 'loving husband returns home, tired but happy to be with his wife' script. The one where he tells me he loves me, that he chose me, that our future is bright."

Leo hesitated, then sighed. "Alright, Allison."

He moved to the bed, sitting, watching me. I changed, my movements slow, deliberate. We played out the charade. He pulled me close, kissed my forehead, murmured platitudes about how lucky he was. His arms felt like Gabriel' s, the scent of his cologne identical. My body responded out of habit, or perhaps, out of a desperate, primal need for contact. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine it was real. Trying to feel a flicker of the love I once believed in.

But all I felt was the chilling void. This was my life. A hollow echo of a love that was long dead, propped up by a paid actor. I saw it stretching out before me, decades of this charade, until I withered into a lonely, bitter shell.

A sharp, painful clarity pierced through the fog. This wasn't love. This was a prison of my own making, reinforced by a man who had long ago stopped seeing me. The weight of it, the utter pointlessness, settled in my bones.

I would not live like this. Not one more day.

The doorbell rang, a jarring, real sound in our staged drama. Leo pulled away, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

I walked to the door, my heart strangely calm. Gabriel stood there, in the flesh, looking tired, a faint scent of Kaia' s perfume clinging to his shirt.

"Allison?" he said, his eyes scanning my face, searching for the familiar hysteria.

But there was none. Just a vast, quiet space.

"Gabriel," I replied, my voice steady. "You' re home."

He looked past me, his gaze landing on Leo, who was still standing by the bed, looking uncomfortable. Gabriel' s eyes narrowed.

"Who is this?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

I turned back to Leo. "Thank you, Leo. You can go now."

Leo nodded, picked up his bag, and slipped past Gabriel, offering a quick, apologetic glance.

Gabriel stepped inside, his eyes fixed on me. "What the hell was that, Allison?"

"Just… a bit of role-play," I said, shrugging. "You were never here, so I hired someone to fill the void. He was very good."

Gabriel' s face contorted, a mixture of anger and disbelief. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Just then, another figure appeared behind him. Kaia. Her blonde hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, her eyes wide and innocent, just as I' d seen in a hundred photographs.

"Gabriel? Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice a soft, concerned whisper.

I met her gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on my lips. "Oh, it' s perfectly fine, Kaia," I said, stepping aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Come in. You must be hungry, both of you. I was just about to make some dinner."

Gabriel stared at me, dumbfounded. Kaia looked from him to me, a flicker of uncertainty in her innocent eyes. My composure was unbreakable. The fire had gone out. All that remained was cold, hard resolve.

"Come in," I repeated, my voice even, unyielding. "There' s plenty for everyone."

This new Allison felt… exhilarating. And terrifying.