Aaaaand... enter the wife!

Samantha Temple pulled into the driveway, cutting off the engine. She sat in her car for a moment, taking deep breaths, preparing herself for what was to come. Her heart raced and her palms were slick with sweat as she gripped the steering wheel tightly. She hadn't planned on coming home that day. She had intended to stay at the hotel with him, to lose herself in climax after climax, to forget about the troubles that plagued her mind.

But it was time. Time to pack her bag and leave this loser she'd once sought comfort from. Time to move on to someone who actually deserved her. She took one last breath, then opened the door and stepped out of the car.

As she approached the house, she found her steps steadying, her resolve strengthening. He was a damn bum. A pathetic, washed-up excuse for a man. He had let himself go, turning into this weak, spineless creature that had nothing in common with the soldier she had been drawn to all those years ago. Working as a glorified bouncer, seemingly satisfied with just drifting along through life. Samantha wanted more. She deserved more.

She reached the front door and hesitated for just a second before pushing it open. She knew what needed to be done. She would tell him it was over, that she had found someone else. Someone who could actually give her the life she wanted. Someone who could offer more than a life of mediocrity and regret.

She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the tile floor. The sound seemed loud in the silence of the house. She looked around, expecting to see Jack sitting on the couch, still wearing his robe after having left bed just a few hours ago, watching TV like the pathetic waste of space he was. But he wasn't there. The living room was empty.

He was probably out by the pool then. That was where he usually was when he wasn't slumped on the couch. She made her way through the house, her anger growing with each step. He had no right to make her do this, to put her in this position. Had he been anything close to a real man, he'd freed her from his pathetic existence a long time ago.

As she approached the patio door, she could hear voices. Male and female. She felt her face redden with anger and a hint of jealousy. Was he entertaining some whore by the pool? How dare he, while she was out working her ass off, trying to put food on the table? Well, pretending to be.

She pushed open the door and stepped outside. And then she stopped.

There was a girl by the pool, a girl who couldn't have been more than 18-19 years old, wearing a short, white dress that reminded Sam of some historical period piece of ancient Greece. Jack was with her, but he wasn't drunk and barely awake. He was sober, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, and he was smiling. Not a pathetic, drunken smile, but a real, genuine smile.

He looked… different. Had he lost weight? It seemed impossible, she'd only been away for a few days, but the muscles of his arms were clearly more defined, and the shirt didn't seem to fight his belly as much as it used to. And his face… she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something had changed. Something was different.

And so was the girl.

She was beautiful. That was the only word that could describe her. Her body was perfect, her face exquisite. Her golden hair fell in waves over her shoulders and back, and her dress did nothing to hide the curves of her breasts and hips.

“Ah, Samantha, you're back,” Jack said, but he didn't get up from the chair he was sitting on. He didn't even look especially surprised to see her. “Come, meet our new house guest. This is Millia. Millia, this is my wife Samantha.”

The girl, Millia, turned her gaze to Samantha. Sam felt her throat dry up as the girl's green eyes looked her up and down, slowly, appreciatively. It wasn't a casual look. No, it was more like the girl was appraising her, judging her, and finding her wanting. There was a hint of anger in the girl's eyes, and Sam suddenly felt very wary.

“Millia is the daughter of an old army buddy of mine,” Jack said. “She's going to stay with us for a while.”

Sam's brows shot up. Daughter of a friend? Sure she was. More likely some young whore he'd picked up from the street.

Millia got up from the sunbed she'd been sitting on and came over to Samantha. She stopped in front of her, looked up at her, and said, “Pleased to meet you, Samantha. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

There was nothing but innocence and friendliness in the girl's voice, but Sam didn't believe it. Her eyes told a very different story. “Yeah, sure, no problem,” she said, her voice dry. “Jack didn't mention anything about this to me, so it's… quite a surprise.”

“Oh, Jack told me all about you,” Millia said, a small smile playing on her lips. “You're a... real estate agent?" She glanced at Jack as if to seek approval of her wording. "Someone who sells houses?”

“That's right,” Sam said, feeling her anger growing. “I sell houses, and I work hard at it.”

“I'm certain you do,” Millia said, her smile widening a little. “It must be very demanding, making people happy by finding them their new home. It's very commendable.” She paused for a moment, looking Sam straight in the eyes. “Jack said you were out of town on business for a few days. I hope everything went well.”

There was something in the way the girl said those last words. It was subtle, but it was there. A hint of something else. An accusation?

Sam's eyes narrowed. “It did, thank you,” she said coldly. “But you know, I'm very tired after the long flight. I think I'll go lie down for a bit.” She turned to Jack. “I'm going to need to talk with you about something later. Alone."

Jack nodded. “Of course, dear.” He smiled and took her hand, kissing it without letting go of her eyes. A shudder passed through Sam, a warmth spreading through her and she suddenly had to clear her throat. "Anything wrong, dear?" Jack asked, a wrinkle of worry over his brow.

"No. I'm just... tired. We'll talk later."