Betty drew the curtains aside and glanced out the window. A sleek black BMW was in the driveway, the engine still running. Her chauffeur was waiting.
"My ride's here," she said calmly, reaching for her purse and suitcase. "You'll hear from me again, with my lawyer."
Philip began pacing, as her departing words started to settle inside of him.
"Betty, say something, please…anything. We're married, for God's sake. Why is it such a problem that you're pregnant?"
She turned to face him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because you're not the father, Philip. I'm carrying someone else's child…" she paused, "and I want to be with him."
Philip froze, his breath hitching in his throat. "What the fuck?" The silence that followed was heavy.
He finally spoke, voice shaky. "W–when did you find out? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "My company… This divorce could ruin me, Betty. You know that, don't you?"
