Homewrecker

In the dim haze of a quiet afternoon, Evie (Riley Reyes) lounges in her sunlit apartment, the air thick with unspoken ease. A sharp knock shatters the calm—it's the cable guy (Mr. Pete), all smiles and tool belt, claiming a service call. Evie frowns; she didn't summon him. Puzzle pieces click: her lover Casey must've dialed. Warily, she waves him inside, but shadows creep in fast. She spots him fixated on a intimate photo of her and Casey, eyes hungry, devouring their tangled embrace. He shrugs it off with a smirk, but Evie's gut twists when she finds him prowling the rooms, hands idle, not a wire in sight. Paranoia spikes; she slips her phone out to whisper to Casey, fingers trembling. Then he materializes like a ghost from the past. 'Who the hell are you?' she spits, voice cracking. His grin turns feral—Mitchell, Casey's discarded flame, the man she ditched for Evie's soft curves and forbidden fire. Rage boils in him; Evie, the siren who lured his woman away, poisoned her straight heart. Now, he'll rip Casey's world apart, using Evie's quivering body as the blade—fucking her raw, breaking her screams into echoes of betrayal, so Casey tastes the jagged shards of a love gutted and gone.