Dia: A Lover's Revenge

A delicate game

     Rowe's apartment. 

     "This can't be true."

    Rowe chanted, more of an affirmation to himself than a mere statement. He picked up the now stinking soaked suit concealed in a fancy grocery nylon. He watched the boot of the limo dance to the tune of the remote control. 

   He didn't bother looking into the nylon again. He felt like something wasn't right. His wife, business partners, son might deceive him, but not his instinct. 

    "Rowe."

    He ignored the salutation of one of his henchmen scattered around in designated place around his castle. 

    Like in the movie Spartacus, Rowe's favorite movie, he had all his henchmen call him by his name when meaning to accord respect, just like the gladiators referred to Batiatus/Marcus as Dominos.

    He had climbed the stairs to the door of the elevated front door. There was a wel