In the early dark hours of a cold New York morning, the soft breeze whispered through the nearly deserted streets, carrying with it a hint of the city's restless energy. Inside a dimly lit bedroom, the stillness was suddenly broken by the insistent vibration of a phone resting on a wooden nightstand beside a king sized bed. The shrill sound of the alarm cut through the silence, growing louder as it echoed off the walls, relentless in its pursuit of the day.The phone's vibrations buzzed for several long minutes, stubbornly persistent, until a sharp slap on the back jolted Antony awake. He groaned, his body heavy with exhaustion, his face buried in the soft comfort of his pillow. The slap had come from his wife, Veronica, who now shifted her position in bed with an audible sigh of frustration. Her voice was laced with bitterness as she turned toward him, her features barely visible in the pale light filtering through the thin curtains."Will you turn off your God forsaken alarm? It's d

'LATER ON IN THE DAY'As Antony’s fingers continued to dance across the keyboard, the rhythmic tapping echoed in the otherwise silent office. The screen in front of him was filled with endless spreadsheets and documents that seemed to blur together. He glanced at his wristwatch, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Fuck, 6:43 p.m. already?" he muttered to himself. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "And I'm not even done with half of what I'm supposed to do this week, and it's Thursday already."With a deep, weary sigh, he shook his head, resigning himself to the inevitable. There was no way he'd be able to finish everything on time without sacrificing his weekend. "I'll have to come in on Saturday and Sunday if I'm ever going to finish collating these files before the Monday deadline," he mumbled, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.He began wrapping up his work, shutting down his computer and tidying up his desk. As he stood and slung his small briefcase over

The following morning, Anthony awoke with a dull ache in his chest, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on him. His head lifted from the cold surface of the dining table where he had unintentionally spent the night. Stretching his arms, he yawned deeply, wiping away the drool that had pooled at the corner of his mouth. The events of the previous day came rushing back, and he found himself momentarily disoriented, surprised that he had fallen asleep in the dining area.He picked up the empty plate and glass from his midnight meal, his movements sluggish as he made his way to the kitchen. After placing them in the cabinet where used dishes were stored, he paused for a moment, staring at nothing in particular. The kitchen, usually a place of comfort, now felt foreign to him— just like everything else in his life.When he returned to the bedroom, the tension in the air was palpable. Veronica was still asleep, her figure barely discernible under the sheets. Anthony stood by the doorw

He sat opposite the man, a small, square café table between them. The table was bare— no food, no drinks, only the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Anthony leaned forward slightly, unsure if this was a trap or some kind of twisted game. But he was curious, his mind reeling with what the man might know.Without hesitation, Anthony broke the silence. "What do you mean when you say I’m not the only one Mr. Alkins has wronged?"The man's expression darkened, bitterness clouding his features. "Alkins is a dangerous man. You should be very careful about how you choose to deal with him. Your wife… she's not the first married woman Alkins has had an affair with. It seems… that's his thing."Anthony raised an eyebrow, a wave of disbelief washing over him. "His thing? You mean sleeping with married women? Destroying families?"The man nodded, his lips curling into a grimace. "Exactly. And he won't stop until he’s taken everything you hold dear. For him, it's just a game. But in your