I sat in my favorite recliner with my 9 mm in my hand, waiting for the lovers to come down the stairs from my bedroom once they finished their rounds of intimate activity. I'd moved my recliner from my den and placed it at the foot of the stairs so it was just out of sight from those descending until they reached the last step. They were so wrapped up in their passion that they didn't hear a thing.
Having returned early from a business trip attempting to surprise my wife Irene with a vacation to Hawaii, I was surprised to find, on entering my house, men's and women's clothes thrown on the floor leading to the stairs and on up the stairs, apparently thrown off in their frenzy to get to the master bedroom ASAP.
While waiting, I called my partner who covered the criminal law cases for our law firm and told him what I'd found when I got home and that I'd need to be bailed out of jail later tonight. He said he'd meet me at the station and not to kill anyone. I laughed and said I'd try not to.
I located Irene's lover's pants and got his wallet with his ID, credit cards, and pictures of his wife and children. Then I got his phone, which he had tossed on the coffee table out of habit I suppose, indicating this was not a one-time occurrence. I called his home while I waited. It seems I wanted some company, someone to talk to who would understand the pain of betrayal I was feeling as I waited for the coming confrontation.
The phone rang three times before finally being answered by a very irate female. Well, it was almost 1:00 a.m. "Jeffrey, where the hell are you, you sorry bastard? Today is, well now yesterday was, your daughter's fifth birthday and you broke her heart, you SOB. One more time and I swear I'm going to divorce you."
"I'm sorry to have awakened you, Mrs. Connor," I replied. "I didn't realize the hour. Jeffrey is very busy right now, so I'll have to pass along your message a little later."
"Just who are you and how did you get Jeffy's cell?" she finally asked.
"My name is Ronald Kelly, and I found his cell phone tossed on my coffee table when I came home early from a business trip," I replied.
"Kelly, you say? You wouldn't be Irene's husband, would you? She's Jeffy's secretary," she asked.
"Yes, guilty as charged, I'm afraid. And my soon-to-be ex-wife appears to be much more than just a secretary to Jeffy boy," I replied.
She didn't seem to catch the end of my statement and said, "I don't care how busy he thinks he is. You get him on the phone right goddamn now or tell him not to bother coming home ever again."
"Oh, Mrs. Connor, I don't think he will be able to come to the phone soon, much less come right home. You see, he'll have to wait until the ER doctors finish sewing him back up after I shoot his sorry ass shortly for sleeping with my wife in my house, in my bed. Needless to say, I'm more than a little irritated with Jeffy boy and my soon-to-be ex-wife," I stated calmly.
"Yes. At this very moment they are upstairs having intimate relations, well, what little brains they have left. And I just didn't have the heart to go up and shoot them as it would really mess up my bed. Besides, I'm so mad at them right now that I might miss my aim and end up killing them both. So I'm waiting downstairs for them to finish and come down for something to drink. Irene always likes to have something to drink after a vigorous intimate session."
"Oops, I've got to go now. I think I hear them coming down the stairs. If I can, I might let Jeffy boy call you soon, so stay by the phone. At the very least, I'll have Irene call you about which hospital the ambulance takes him to."
She said, "Don't bother. I don't want to see or hear from him ever again."
"Mrs. Connor, please think of your children. They'll hate you for keeping them from their father while he recovers in the hospital. You don't deserve that. As far as I can tell, you don't deserve any blame in this whole affair," I cautioned.
"Neither do you," she sighed. "Okay, I'll await your call then." She disconnected.
As I sat waiting, my mind drifted to the life Irene and I had built together. Seven years of marriage, a beautiful home in the suburbs, and weekend trips to the coast. I'd given her everything within my power to give. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of rage and grief washing over me. Every moment we'd shared now seemed tainted. Every "I love you" she'd uttered while I was away on business trips now felt like poison in my veins. The betrayal cut deeper than any knife could.
I glanced at the framed wedding photo on the wall. We'd looked so happy then. Was it all a lie? Had she ever loved me at all? My hand tightened around the 9 mm as I heard movement upstairs. The cold metal against my palm reminded me of the choice I'd already made. There would be consequences for both of them, not just tonight but for years to come. I was going to make sure of that.
Irene, lay recovering from Jeffy's love for the third time tonight, and she thought she heard someone talking downstairs. "Jeff, did you just hear something?" she asked.
Jeffrey was so engrossed in his own admiration of his prowess to charm these stupid married secretaries that he had heard nothing but his own hand patting himself on the back. "No, Irene, I heard nothing." But now listening, it did seem like he heard someone's voice, though it was very muted.
"Yeah, not sure what it is, but I think I do hear something though."
"Oh, it's probably just the answering machine recording a call from Ron," Irene responded.
"What's that jerk doing calling after 1:00 a.m. in the morning? Doesn't he have any sense at all?" Jeff said.
"Is it that late already? Ron never calls after 10:00 p.m. He doesn't like to wake me in the middle of the night. It must be some kind of emergency for him to call so late."
Irene got up, put on her robe, and walked out to check the answering machine for the message. Jeffrey, being God's gift to all women, didn't bother with Ron's robe and simply followed Irene downstairs in the nude. If nothing else, he'd drink some of Ron's Glenlivet. He'd grown to really like Ron's favorite Scotch along with being intimate with his wife. Jeffrey smirked to himself as he followed Irene. He'd been sleeping with Ron Kelly's wife for months now, drinking his premium scotch, and using his bed. There was something thrilling about taking what belonged to another man, especially a high-powered attorney like Ron. In Jeffy's mind, Ron was just another uptight suit who didn't know how to properly satisfy a woman like Irene.
As Vice President of Operations at Meridian Corporation, Jeffrey was used to getting what he wanted. When Irene had started as his executive assistant six months ago, he targeted her immediately. The wedding ring on her finger had only made the conquest more appealing. It had taken some effort — casual touches that lingered too long, late nights at the office, compliments on her appearance that crossed professional boundaries — but eventually she'd given in. The first time had been after hours in his office. When she crossed the line, the thrill of the forbidden had been intoxicating for both of them. From there it had escalated to hotel rooms and finally to her marital bed while her husband was away.
"He's never going to find out," he'd assured her time and again. "He's too busy with his cases to notice."
As Irene reached the bottom of the stairs, she realized something was wrong and stopped so short that Jeffrey ran into her and they both almost fell to the floor. Jeffrey was about to yell at Irene for almost tripping him when suddenly the living room light came on and they saw Ron sitting in his chair not five feet away from them.
Irene screamed and Jeffrey lost all the color in his face as they both saw the 9 mm in Ron's hand pointed at the two cheaters. The blood drained from Jeffy's face as he stared at the barrel of the gun. His heart hammered in his chest and he suddenly felt very naked and very vulnerable. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Ron was supposed to be in Chicago for another two days.
"Ron, it's not—" Irene stammered, but she knew by the look in Ron's eyes that her life with him was over.
"Shut up, you stupid cheating woman," I calmly told Irene. She dropped down to the floor as I turned to Jeffy boy. "Well, at least I won't have to buy a new robe, Jeffy boy. I guess I should thank you for that much. Of course, I will have to get new sheets, a new bed, and a new wife, but you can't have everything, right, Jeffy boy?"
Jeff began to back up, thinking of some way to escape, when I shot around into the banister to halt his retreat. The gunshot reverberated through the house, splintering wood from the banister and sending it flying in all directions. Irene screamed and covered her ears while Jeffrey froze in place, his eyes widening in terror. A small trickle of urine ran down his leg as his bladder released involuntarily.
"Damn, now I have to get a new banister too. You're getting to be expensive, Jeffy boy. But don't leave now on my account. We have so much to discuss, so much to settle, and so little time. You are going to owe me so much for sleeping with my unfaithful wife, and we need to reach a settlement right now."
I turned to my dearly beloved. "How long, Irene? How many times has he been with you? I know of at least three times tonight alone. Of course, I don't know when you two started tonight or when you started being unfaithful with him, so there will be many, many more, I'm sure."
A crying Irene replied, "Six months, Ron. We've been sleeping together behind your back every trip for six months. I have no idea how many times Jeffrey's been with me. And no, we did not use protection."
"God, it sounds so cheap discussing it like this. Six months, my my, and no protection. Were you trying to get pregnant?" She was shaking her head no as I turned to Jeffrey and said, "So, Jeffy boy, no protection. Do I need to get tested for STDs? Oh, of course I do. You don't think I will take your word for it, do you? Irene's not the only stupid secretary you're sleeping with now, is she? Come on, Jeffy boy, be honest."
Jeffrey said nothing. He was beginning to feel decidedly self-conscious standing there at the bottom of the stairs in the nude facing a madman with a gun pointed directly at his private parts. Irene was shocked. She'd never even thought about the possibility of passing an STD from Jeff to Ron, and her lack of considering this appalled her.
"Oh God, Ron, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think of STDs, but I have been taking birth control pills throughout."
"Such a thoughtful little unfaithful wife you are, my dear. Oh, I guess you're not my dear anymore, are you? Haven't been for at least six months. Is Jeffy boy the first, or have there been more before him?" I asked.
"Jeff's the only one I ever cheated on you with. You have to believe I love only you, Ron. This is just physical," she said.
"No, Irene. I don't have to believe anything you say. And it's not just physical. It's everything. Furthermore, I don't believe you could possibly love me. You've destroyed our marriage, my trust, and my self-respect. You've broken your marriage vows, denied me any chance of having children with you, and you may have destroyed my health as well as your own through thoughtless unprotected intimacy with this sorry piece of shit. That's what it is, Irene!" I screamed. The pain in my voice cut through the room like a knife. Seven years of marriage reduced to this sordid scene. The Hawaii tickets in my pocket, meant to be a surprise for our anniversary next week, now felt like a cruel joke.
I turned back to Jeffy boy. "Now, just what do I do with you, Jeffy boy?" I paused for effect. "Well, let's see. For starters, I'm suing you for alienation of affection resulting in my upcoming divorce of the unfaithful woman I was married to. Then I'm suing your company and your board of directors, along with your parent company and their board of directors, for failure to enforce your company morals clauses. Still, that's not the best part. I've saved the best for almost last."
At this I tossed Jeffy boy his cell phone. "I had an enlightening discussion with your wife while I waited for you two to finish your intimate activities. By the way, you really shouldn't treat your daughter like dirt. It was her birthday yesterday and you missed it. Just so you could sleep with my wife. Call your soon-to-be ex, jerk."
"Oh no, Ron, you didn't!" cried Irene.
"Oh yes, I did. By the way, Irene, did you bother to tell Jeffy boy here what I do for a living?" She shook her head no. I continued, "Well, Jeffy boy, I'm one of the top three divorce lawyers in this state, and the other two work for me. You can be assured that I'll make sure that your wife has adequate representation in her divorce suit against you, and we won't charge her a red cent."
Jeffrey turned away from me to go make his call as I continued. "You, on the other hand, Jeffy boy, will be paying through the rear, literally." And I shot Jeffrey in his right buttock. He fell to the floor crying like a little baby, screaming, "You shot me! You shot me!" over and over.
"You're lucky I didn't kill you, you jerk!" I yelled back.
I looked at a shocked Irene as I called 911 for the police and an ambulance. I had already contacted my firm, and my criminal defense lawyer was already on his way. As I hung up my cell, I told Irene, "When the ambulance arrives, get the name of the emergency room hospital they are taking your lover to and be so kind as to call his wife and let her know. That way she can see to it that his children can see him as he recovers in the hospital. It's the least you can do after ruining their lives through your adultery."
Irene just hung her head and said nothing.
The holding cell at the county jail smelled of sweat, disinfectant, and desperation. I sat on the cold metal bench, my back against the concrete wall, waiting for Dave Harrington, my law partner and friend of 20 years, to arrange my bail. My right hand still felt the phantom weight of the 9 mm. I'd surrendered it willingly to the officers who responded to my 911 call. They'd been professional, almost sympathetic, once they pieced together what had happened.
"Kelly," a guard called, swinging the cell door open. "Your attorney's here. Bail's been approved."
Dave waited for me in the processing area, his suit immaculate despite the early hour. He'd always been the most put together of our partnership, even in crisis.
"Ron," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you home."
"Is there anything left of it?" I asked.
"The house is fine. Irene's gone. I sent Marshall and two paralegals over to make sure she took only what was hers. The prenup is ironclad. You know that better than anyone since you wrote it."
In the car, Dave filled me in on what had happened after I was taken away. Jeffrey Connor was treated and released from County General. Flesh wound, nothing serious physically. His wife showed up at the hospital with divorce papers already in hand. Irene moved in with her sister for now. Her lawyer called mine an hour ago. She's not contesting the prenup.
"Smart move," I said, staring out the window as the city passed by in a blur. She'd lose, and she knows it. I nodded. The legal battle ahead would be brutal, but it was familiar territory. In the courtroom I would regain some measure of control that had been stolen from me tonight.
"Take me home, Dave," I said. "I need a shower and about twelve hours of sleep before we start dismantling Jeffrey Connor's life."
Three days later, Dave arrived with breakfast and a leather portfolio bulging with papers. He'd been busy.
"Jeffrey Connor," he said, spreading files across my kitchen table, "has quite the history. Three complaints of sexual harassment in the last five years, all settled quietly. His company, Meridian Corporation, has a pattern of protecting him. He's valuable to them, brings in major clients, closes big deals."
I sipped my coffee, my legal mind already assembling the pieces. "So they enable his behavior."
"Exactly. And it gets better. Mrs. Connor, Sarah, came to the office this morning. She's ready to burn it all down. Seems Jeffrey's been playing this game for years. She has names, dates, text messages. She's willing to testify. More than willing. Eager. She's already filed for full custody of their kids, citing moral turpitude and unfit parenting. The birthday incident was apparently the last straw."
I nodded, feeling a strange kinship with Sarah Connor. Both of us were betrayed by the people we'd trusted most.
"And Irene?" I asked, the name still bitter on my tongue.
"Hired Sandra Lowell."
I raised an eyebrow. Sandra was good, one of the few divorce attorneys in the state I genuinely respected. Smart choice.
"Sandra called this morning. Irene's not contesting anything. She's waiving all claims to the house, investments, everything not explicitly granted to her in the prenup. She just wants her personal belongings and to be done with it."
I nodded, turning my attention to the files. "Now about Connor and Meridian Corp. I want them both to bleed."
Dave smiled. "I thought you might say that."
The corporate offices of Meridian Corp occupied the top ten floors of a gleaming downtown skyscraper. Five minutes after arriving unannounced with a process server and court reporter, we were escorted to the executive floor. Richard Tanner, Meridian's CEO, rose from behind his desk, hand extended, face plastered with a corporate smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Mr. Kelly, Mr. Harrington, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
I ignored his hand. "You know exactly why we're here, Mr. Tanner. Your VP of operations, Jeffrey Connor, has been having an affair with my wife, who happens to be his secretary. An affair conducted largely on company time, in company facilities."
Tanner's smile faded. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Kelly. Truly. But that sounds like a personal matter between you, your wife, and Mr. Connor."
I nodded to the process server, who stepped forward and handed Tanner a thick envelope. "This makes it your matter. Meridian Corp is being sued for fostering a hostile work environment, failure to enforce morality clauses, and negligent supervision of a sexual predator."
Tanner's face darkened as he skimmed the documents. "These are serious allegations, Mr. Kelly."
"With serious evidence to back them up," Dave added, "including testimony from multiple women who've been harassed or coerced by Mr. Connor over the years."
Tanner's jaw tightened. "What exactly are you looking for here, Mr. Kelly?"
"Justice," I said simply. "And accountability. Your company has allowed Connor to operate unchecked for years, settling complaints quietly while he continued to victimize women. That ends today. Our legal team will—"
"Your legal team," Dave interrupted, "will advise you to settle quickly and quietly. But we're not interested in quiet. Every motion, every filing, every deposition will be public record. The press will have a field day."
Tanner sat down heavily. "What would it take to resolve this amicably?"
I leaned forward and named my terms, including a seven-figure sum that made Tanner blanch.
Two days later, Tanner called personally to accept our terms.
Three years later, the Hawaiian sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and gold as I stood on the lanai of my beachfront condo, the same condo I'd nearly surprised Irene with three years ago. I'd kept the reservation, postponed it by three years, and decided to finally take the trip alone.
My phone buzzed with a text message. Sarah Connor, now Sarah Mitchell, having reclaimed her maiden name, passed the bar exam. Celebrating tonight with the kids. Thank you for everything, Ron.
I smiled and texted back my congratulations. Sarah had indeed made a formidable attorney, clerking at my firm through law school and accepting a position in our family law division upon graduation. Her personal experience made her especially effective with clients navigating the wreckage of betrayal.
Jeffrey Connor's story had taken a darker turn. After being fired from Meridian, he'd struggled to find comparable employment. The scandal had made him toxic in corporate circles. Last I'd heard, he was selling used cars in a neighboring state, living in a small apartment, paying alimony and child support that consumed most of his income.
And Irene? I rarely thought of her now. She'd moved to the West Coast shortly after our divorce. Through mutual acquaintances I'd heard she'd rebuilt her life — a new job, new friends. She'd never remarried. Though neither had I.
My phone rang. Dave Harrington, my law partner and the man who'd stood beside me through the darkest days.
"Ron," he said when I answered. "Sorry to bother you on vacation, but I thought you'd want to know."
"What is it?"
"Irene called the office today. She's back in town, staying with her sister again. She asked if you'd be willing to meet with her."
I felt a momentary tightness in my chest, but it passed quickly. "What did you tell her?"
"That you were out of the country and unreachable. I didn't think you'd want the hassle."
I gazed out at the darkening ocean. "You did right. Whatever she wants to say, it's too late."
"That's what I figured." Dave paused. "There's something else, though. She's sick, Ron. Cancer. Advanced stage."
The news hit me with unexpected force. Despite everything, despite the betrayal and the pain she'd caused, I couldn't summon satisfaction at her suffering. "How bad?" I asked.
"Terminal, according to her sister. Months, not years."
I closed my eyes, letting the information settle. When I opened them again, the first stars were visible in the Hawaiian sky.
"I'll call her when I get back," I said finally, not promising anything more than that.
After we hung up, I stood for a long time watching the waves. The vindictive satisfaction I'd expected to feel at the news of Irene's misfortune never materialized. Instead, I felt a complex mixture of emotions — residual anger, certainly, but also a strange sort of peace.
Sometimes the most painful endings lead to the most necessary beginnings. I hadn't wanted this path, hadn't chosen it, but standing here now, watching the first stars appear in the Hawaiian sky, I could acknowledge that the man I'd become in the aftermath was stronger, wiser, and perhaps even more whole than the man whose world had shattered that night.
It wasn't the life I'd planned, but it was a good life nonetheless.
Sometimes revenge isn't about destroying the other person. It's about building yourself into someone who no longer needs them.