Cheaters Never Prosper

The door creaks open, and Melanie steps into the dim foyer of her father-in-law's house, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat from the kitchen. Family dinner waits, but the warmth fades fast. Stephen pulls her into a hug that's too tight, too lingering. His eyes flicker, antsy, probing. 'Why the radio silence on my calls, Melanie? Days now.' She forces a smile, mumbles about acting classes, new scripts to memorize. But he circles closer, a shark scenting blood. 'Acting, huh? Then explain my buddy spotting you slip out of that seedy hotel the other night, lipstick smeared, heels clicking on the pavement.' Her facade cracks. Tears spill hot down her cheeks as she confesses—yeah, she's been cheating on her husband, that sweet, clueless guy. She never meant to gut him like this, but the thrill pulls her under, a siren's call to the edge. 'I swear, it'll stop. Never again.' Stephen's laugh comes low, dark, unconvinced. He leans in, breath hot against her ear. 'Wish you'd picked me instead. I've burned for you since the wedding, Melanie. That body, those eyes—mine in my dreams.' Now the threat drops like a blade: spill to my son, or give yourself to me. Right here. Right now. Shock hits her like a slap—her own father-in-law, twisting the knife. Disgust coils in her gut, sour and sharp. But the truth? She can't face her husband's shattered gaze, can't drag their life through the mud. So when Stephen slides behind her, his rough hands gliding up her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse, thumbs circling her hardening nipples, she shudders. Not just revulsion. Something darker stirs. She tilts her head back against his shoulder, surrendering to the forbidden heat, the choice sealing like wax on a pact.