—You’re Eve? Slater’s wife?
—Yes… Who are you?
—That doesn’t matter. What matters is why I’m here. Pack your things and get out of this flat. Slater and I are in love, and he’s moving in with me. It was his decision!
Eve stared blankly at the woman who’d appeared on her doorstep that Saturday morning. The striking brunette, no older than thirty, radiated aggressive confidence. Her manicure was flawless, her makeup bold, her leather jacket studded—every detail screamed a desperate need to impress.
—Excuse me, what?
—Don’t play dumb! The stranger stepped forward. Slater’s had enough of your control. Every day, he tells me how you don’t understand him, how you suffocate every one of his business ideas! He made his choice weeks ago.
The woman kept talking, but Eve had stopped listening. A ringing filled her ears. Slater? The same man who’d sat at this kitchen table just last night, begging for money for another “project,” kissing her goodnight and whispering how perfect she was?
—Come in, she heard herself say, her voice distant. We should talk.
Her world had shattered and rearranged itself in an instant. The pain was unbearable, but… this was right.
—I’m Natalie, the brunette announced defiantly, crossing the threshold. And I didn’t come to talk. I came to make you leave.
Eve walked silently into the kitchen. For the first time in five years of marriage, her mind was terrifyingly clear. How had she been so blind? Or maybe she wasn’t blind—just unwilling to see. Rose-tinted glasses made everything look different. Except when they shattered, the shards cut deep.
Fragments of memory resurfaced. There she was, a successful estate agent with her own flat. And there he was, Slater, with his disarming smile and a cup of coffee in a café. A battered briefcase, a cheap suit, but grand promises: “Just a temporary rough patch—you’ll see, I’ll make it big!”
There she was, melting under his attention. Cheap flowers every day. Romantic walks. A proposal after three months. And there he was, right after the wedding: “Darling, lend me a few grand? Urgent investment—this could be our ticket!” She gave it to him. Then more. And more. Years spent believing in his “big plans” while she worked herself to the bone. And all along, he’d been making plans with someone else.
Silence filled the kitchen.
—Nice layout, Natalie remarked, surveying the room with a proprietary air. Slater said he picked the place himself. He’s got impeccable taste.
—Wait a moment, Eve said, stepping into the hall and returning with a leather folder. I want to show you something. The purchase agreement, the deed. Look at the date. Three years before I met Slater. And the name on it.
Natalie’s lips parted nervously. Her confidence wavered.
—But he said… he owned a real estate firm…
Eve opened her laptop and logged into her bank account:
—This is my income. I’m the top agent at one of the biggest agencies in London.
The screen displayed a statement with steady, sizable deposits. Natalie sank into a chair.
—Let me guess. He’s been taking money from you too? Promising huge returns on impossible projects?
—I gave him nearly fifty grand, Natalie muttered hoarsely. He said the first profit would come in a month…
—And it will! Slater’s voice rang from the doorway. The money’s coming back with interest—I promised!
Slater strode in, wearing the cashmere jumper Eve had bought him.
—Slater? Natalie shot up. You were supposed to be meeting investors!
—He asked me for a loan just yesterday, Eve said quietly. Some emergency project. Guess I was the investor.
Slater froze, his gaze darting between the two women. Then, as ever, he flashed that practised smile:
—Ladies, let me explain. Nat, your money’s safe—
—Where? Natalie advanced on him. I sold my car, borrowed from my parents! Where is it?
—It’s all under control! His voice pitched higher. Just another month—
—For everyone? Eve stood slowly. How many women are funding your ‘projects’?
Slater swallowed hard, stammering that Natalie was “just business.”
—Business? Natalie laughed bitterly. The dates? The ‘I can’t live without you’ speeches?
Under pressure, he cracked:
—Look, there was this one thing… online… practically a sure win…
—You lost it? Natalie clutched her head. My God, you gambled away everything?
—Not everything! He raised his hands. There’s still some left! I’ll turn it around—I’ve got a system—
—A system? Eve gave a bitter laugh. Borrow from your wife to pay your mistress? Or the other way round?
Natalie grabbed her bag:
—That’s it. I’m done. I’m reporting you. To the police.
The front door slammed. Slater turned helplessly to Eve:
—Darling, forgive me… It’s the money, I got in over my head… You’re the only one I love!
—The worst part? It’s not that you found someone else. It’s that you actually believe your own lies.
—I’ll change! One more chance!
—Sleep on the sofa tonight. Tomorrow, pack your things and go.
—But where will I go?
—Not my problem. She shrugged. You’ve got a system, haven’t you? See how it works on your own.
Morning dawned crisp and clear. Slater crept to the kitchen:
—Eve… I’ve had an epiphany. We can start fresh! I’ll get a job, repay—
—I’m filing for divorce.
Slater froze.
—You can’t… What about me? Where do I go?
—Where were you going when you promised Natalie you’d marry her? Pack your bags, Slate. And leave.
—But I really can change! Last chance!
—No. Her voice was calm, final. No more chances. No more lies.
That evening, a knock startled Natalie awake. Through the peephole, she saw Slater with two suitcases.
—Nat, open up! Eve threw me out… Now we can be together!
He launched into another pitch, begging for “just a little more” investment.
Natalie pressed close to the door:
—Piss off. And don’t come back. I’ve already reported you to the police.
She heard him linger, then shuffle toward the lift.
Below, the building’s door clattered shut. Slater trudged down the street, dragging suitcases filled with things bought by others’ money. Fragments of another “brilliant plan” spun in his head—just one more mark, one more believer.
Meanwhile, in two separate flats, two women picked up the pieces of the beautiful lie they’d wanted so badly to believe. Both now knew: the most dangerous deception is the one you choose to see, even when the truth stares you in the face.
