Determined to get revenge on his unfaithful wife, the millionaire went to a beauty pageant—at the entrance, he saw contestants offending a young janitor: «What’s that, a mop instead of a pole?» He leaned in and whispered, «Save your tears, follow me…»

Then secret meetings in cafes began, long walks when Paul was on business trips. Sophia felt alive and significant next to Brandon. He admired her, idolized her beauty, supported her ambitions.

And most importantly, he understood her disappointment from her failed career. «You’re too good for this world,» he said. «They don’t deserve you.»

A year ago, their relationship moved to a new level. Sophia could no longer resist. Brandon gave her what was missing in her marriage to Paul.

Passion, understanding, a sense of her own importance. But secret dates stopped satisfying Sophia. She wanted more, wanted to be with Brandon officially.

And for that, she needed to get rid of Paul. At first, she thought about divorce, but realized she would lose everything. The prenup was drawn up competently; in case of her infidelity, she got nothing.

And Sophia could no longer live without money. Then Brandon suggested another solution. «Accidents happen all the time,» he said one day.

«Especially with people who work a lot, travel the world often, and don’t watch their health.» Sophia was initially horrified by this proposal. But gradually, the idea took root in her mind.

Paul really worked a lot, often complained of fatigue. If he died of a heart attack, no one would suspect anything. Brandon got the necessary drugs through his acquaintances in a pharmaceutical company.

Small doses of poison that gradually weakened the heart but didn’t raise suspicions. For two weeks, Sophia added the poison to her husband’s evening tea. Paul indeed started feeling worse but attributed it to stress.

Another month, and it would all be over. But today, Paul returned earlier than expected. Ascending the stairs to the bedroom, he heard voices.

Sophia was talking to someone, and that voice seemed familiar to Paul. He slowed his steps, listening. Just a few more weeks, and it’ll all be over, a male voice sounded behind the bedroom door.

«Are you sure no one will suspect anything?» «Of course,» Sophia replied with cold confidence. Paul has no idea. He thinks he’s feeling bad because of work stress.

But still, Paul froze in place. That voice. Brandon? His best friend? And if the doctors find something during the autopsy? The male voice continued.

They won’t. This drug completely dissolves and leaves no traces. A heart attack in a 40-year-old workaholic is a perfectly natural death.

Paul’s heart pounded so loudly that he feared they would hear it. He cautiously approached the slightly open door and peeked inside. What he saw shattered his world into a thousand pieces.

On their marital bed, among silk sheets, lay his wife in the arms of Brandon Cole, his best friend from college days, the best man at their wedding, the person Paul trusted more than anyone in the world. «How much longer do I need to add the poison to his tea?» Sophia asked, gently stroking Brandon’s shoulder. — Maximum a month, he replied.

The heart is already weakened. What about the inheritance? Everything will go to me. The will was drawn up long ago, we have no children.

In six months, after his death, we can get married and enjoy his millions. Brandon laughed. Poor Paul.

So smart in business and so naive in personal life. Doesn’t even suspect that his beloved wife is slowly killing him. He’s too trusting, agreed Sophia.

That’s why he’s so easy to deceive. The bouquet fell from Paul’s hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. The sound echoed through the corridor.

What was that? Brandon worried. Probably the cat knocked something over, Sophia replied carelessly. But Paul could no longer control himself.

The door swung open forcefully, and he burst into the bedroom. — Paul! — Sophia screamed, sharply pulling away from her lover and grabbing the sheet. — You were supposed to return only tomorrow.

Brandon slowly rose from the bed, and there was not a drop of shame on his face, only a brazen smirk. — Oh, hi, old man! — he said with mocking ease. — How untimely you appeared! — We were just discussing your.

Future. Paul stood, unable to utter a word. Fragments of memories flashed in his head: how Brandon was the witness at their wedding, how they spent joint vacations, how Paul shared with him his most intimate thoughts about marriage and future plans.

And all this time. I heard everything. — And how long? — He finally squeezed out in a hoarse voice.

— What exactly interests you? — Brandon asked with cold audacity. — How long we’ve been sleeping together, or how long we’ve been poisoning you? — Brandon, shut up! — Sophia hissed, but he continued. — Our affair has been about a year.

— And we’ve been adding the poison for just two weeks. — Too bad you ruined everything by coming back early. The world around Paul darkened.

— So, his malaise these last days isn’t stress, but the result of slow poisoning. — You wanted to kill me, he whispered. — Wanted.

— Brandon laughed, getting up from the bed. — We still want to. — Just now we’ll have to act faster and… — More radically.

Paul saw Brandon reach for the nightstand, where lay a pistol, a gift from his father for his coming of age. The gleam of metal in the traitor’s hands made Paul’s instincts kick in instantly. He sharply turned and rushed to the door.

— Stop! — Brandon shouted, grabbing the weapon. Paul dashed out of the bedroom and raced down the corridor. A deafening shot rang out behind him.

The bullet whistled past his head and hit an antique painting on the wall, leaving a smoking hole in the canvas. — You won’t get away! — Brandon yelled, running out of the bedroom. — You know too much.

Paul ran down the corridor, with shots thundering behind him. The second bullet shattered a mirror, the third—a crystal vase on the dresser. Shards tinkled underfoot.

He burst into the nearest room. It turned out to be a guest bathroom. He slammed the door and turned the key just as Brandon reached the door.

— Open up. He pounded furiously on the door with his fists. — You’ll never get out of here anyway.

With trembling hands, Paul grabbed his mobile phone and dialed the security service number. — Come immediately. He shouted into the receiver, trying to drown out the pounding on the door.

— Armed killers in my house. They’re trying to shoot me. — Mr. Harrison? The operator asked.

— We’re on our way. — Hold on. I hear you’re calling security.

Brandon shouted. But we’ll finish the job before they arrive. The door shook under the blows.

Brandon was apparently trying to kick it down. — Sophia! — he yelled. — Get the axe from the storage room…