“You’re the most devoted man in Las Vegas. I thought you’d moved on after marrying Lora and having a child.”
“Move on? If it wasn’t for that drugged night, Loren and I wouldn’t have lost all these years. Don’t compare them—Lora can’t even match a strand of Loren’s hair.”
“Why not just divorce and marry her now?”
“She won’t accept me while she’s sick. But as her brother-in-law, I can stay close. Once she’s cured…I’ll propose.”
Each word stabbed deeper than the last.
That night, I died inside.
Today, walking past the study, I heard muffled sounds. The door was ajar.
Arthur sat there, hand wrapped around himself, staring at Loren on a screen. She wore a stunning dress, her voice soft and sweet.
“Loren...” he moaned.
He didn't even finish this time. Just stayed there, lost in her.
My stomach turned.
Then his voice cut through the silence:
“Who's there?”
Arthur quickly shut off the tablet, yanked his coat over his lap to hide the bulge, and put on his usual cold, ascetic mask.