Lethal Script: My Husband's Betrayal

I hated social events, but my husband and best friend dragged me to this murder mystery game anyway.

The moment I flipped open my character booklet, a cold prickle crawled up the back of my neck. I was assigned the role of the vicious antagonist.

The kind of toxic wife who tore apart two starcrossed lovers, suffocated her husband with her control freak tendencies, and screamed at him daily.

In the script, the male lead gently coaxed my character. "Honey, just focus on getting pregnant.

Don't worry about going into the office anymore." The very next line of the plot revealed his true motive.

He was planning a hostile takeover of her family's company. "Alright everyone, just read the first page for now," the game master announced. My fingers stiffened on the paper.

I looked up and locked eyes with Brooks. He was smiling at me across the table. All the blood drained from my face.

Just last month, my husband had said those exact same words to me. Chapter 1 The game master raised his hand, gesturing for us to introduce our characters.

The other players wore amused grins. My fingertips were ice. I gripped the booklet detailing my role as the toxic villainess, my chest tight enough to trap my breath in my throat.

Brooks sat right beside me.

He spoke first, his tone gentle, but the words felt like a splinter of ice driving straight through my ribs. "My character only wants to keep one person safe.

Everything I do, I do to protect the woman I care about." The line was a perfect match to the script.

It was also a flawless echo of the words he said when he dropped to one knee and proposed to me three years ago.

Back then, I was so blinded by love that I thought it was the most romantic promise in the world. Hearing it now left a sharp, metallic taste of irony on my tongue.

I glanced at him. A faint smile played on his lips, but his gaze skipped right over me. It landed squarely on Maya sitting across the table.

His eyes held a soft warmth I had not seen in years. Maya caught my eye. A flash of smug mockery darted through her peripheral vision.

The introductions wrapped up quickly, moving straight into the evidencegathering phase. Everyone got up to draw clue cards. I stayed rooted to my spot, my legs heavy as lead.

Brooks nudged my arm. "Go on," he muttered. I dragged my feet to the clue wall and pulled a random card. The card was labeled as a torn page from the male lead's diary.

I flipped it open. My veins turned to ice. The handwriting was scribbled but perfectly clear. "July 15. Southside Cafe. Reunited with her. "Like no time had passed at all.

A whole lifetime in a single glance." I remembered July 15 of last year with brutal clarity. It was my birthday.

I had booked a restaurant weeks in advance and waited for him all night.

He came home reeking of alcohol, claiming a lastminute client meeting had dragged him into an unavoidable dinner.

That exact same day, Maya posted a picture of a latte on her social media, tagging her location as the Southside Cafe.

She had even texted me about it. "So crazy, I'm actually in the same neighborhood as Brooks today.

He's too busy to meet up though." I squeezed the card until my knuckles turned white. I moved toward the prop area where the game master was handing out items for us to claim.

According to the script, the male lead carried a pocket watch he treated like a treasure, a comingofage gift from the female lead. The game master held up the watch.

My breath hitched. The prop was an exact replica of the pocket watch Brooks always kept on him. He had told me countless times that Maya gave it to him for his eighteenth birthday.

He swore it held immense sentimental value and that he would wear it for the rest of his life. I used to smile and praise his loyalty.

Now I understood that his loyalty was just a cover for something dirty and hidden. Brooks casually pocketed the watch like it was nothing. Maya sat nearby.

The corners of her mouth tipped upward, her gaze practically spilling over with triumph. The first act was coming to an end.

Following the rules, the game master asked Brooks to say one final, honest sentence to my character. I looked at Brooks. His eyes finally met mine, but they held zero warmth.

There was only a complicated, icy distance. He spoke clearly, dragging out every single word. "I really regret ever meeting you." A deafening static filled my ears.

Last week, we had a stupid argument over something trivial. Before he slammed the door and walked out, those were the exact words he threw at me.

Back then, I cried and begged him to stay, thinking he was just speaking out of anger. Now I knew the truth. It was not anger.

It was a confession he had been burying for a very long time. Chapter 2 The noise around me faded into a dull hum. I sat frozen, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably.

The script remained open on the table, spelling out the villainess's ending in black and white.

Her company swallowed by her husband, abandoned by everyone, left with absolutely nothing. I turned to look at Brooks sitting beside me.

The calculation bleeding through his eyes was impossible to hide. A freezing numbness washed over my chest. I knew for a fact now. The male lead in this script was my husband.

The game master shifted his gaze to Maya, smiling as he asked her to introduce her character. Maya lowered her eyes and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Her fragile, delicate demeanor was a carbon copy of the female lead in the script, drawing sympathetic looks from the other players around the table. "I grew up next door to the villainess, always trailing behind her when we were kids," Maya began, her voice soft and airy. "Then tragedy struck.

My parents died in a car crash, and her family took me in.

I've always treated her like my own flesh and blood." Her gentle tone acted like a jagged blade, slicing right through my memories.

When Maya was twelve, her parents were killed in a horrific collision. My parents pitied her and brought her into our home, where she stayed for over a decade.

I treated her like a real sister, pouring my heart out and sharing every single thing I owned with her. The script contained another hyperspecific detail.

The female lead had a reddish, butterflyshaped birthmark hidden just beneath her right collarbone, nearly invisible unless you looked closely. I stared dead at Maya.

She wore a white slip dress today, leaving her right shoulder completely bare.

That exact butterfly birthmark was on full display, swaying in my line of sight like a poisonous flower. I had asked her about that birthmark once.

She just laughed, telling me not to be jealous of something she was born with, calling it her own exclusive signature. There was another detail in the booklet.

On the female lead's eighteenth birthday, the male lead gifted her a custom necklace with the words Forever Protection engraved inside the pendant.

I dragged my gaze up to Maya's neck. She wore a silver necklace with a tiny daisy pendant, a piece of jewelry she never took off. Maya seemed to notice my stare.

She reached up and brushed her fingers against the chain. A microscopic smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she slowly flipped the pendant over. I saw it clear as day.

The engraving on the inside of the metal read Forever Protection. It was the exact phrase from the script.

The lies were like layers of cheap tissue paper, tearing away one by one to expose the filthy rot underneath. The game transitioned into a freeplay segment.

The game master instructed the male lead to say one romantic line to the female lead, offscript, as long as it fit the characters. Brooks turned to Maya immediately.

The tenderness in his eyes practically spilled over the edge, a depth of devotion he had never once shown me.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a low, intimate murmur. "You are the light of my life.

In my darkest nights, you illuminate every path I take." Maya's eyes instantly welled up.

She gazed up at Brooks, tears pooling in her lower lashes, and whispered back. "But we met too late.

So late that even the light became an impossible luxury." That exchange was nowhere in the character booklets.

The other players erupted into teasing cheers, joking about how deep in character they were, calling them a reallife pair of starcrossed lovers. I just sat there.

A suffocating, glacial chill swallowed me whole. Chapter 3 Late one night three years ago, I came home from working overtime. Passing the study, I heard Brooks and Maya talking.

They thought I was asleep. Their voices were hushed, but I caught enough. Brooks called her his light. Maya said they met too late.

Word for perfect word, it was the exact same conversation I just heard. Back then, I was stupid enough to think they were just having a vulnerable moment, comforting each other.

I even felt guilty for eavesdropping. Looking back, I was the ultimate punchline. My fingertips trembled as I pulled out my phone.

I wanted to snap a picture of this sickening scene for evidence. But the moment I opened my camera roll, a barrage of overlooked details hit me.

The screen glare burned my eyes like physical needles. A group photo from last year's company retreat. Brooks and Maya stood at the very edge of the crowd.

His hand was resting casually, yet possessively, on her waist. Three years ago, my dad caught Brooks dropping Maya off late at night.

He sent me a screenshot from the security footage. In the dim lighting of the underground parking garage, Brooks had his arms wrapped around Maya from behind.

They stood there holding each other for three whole minutes. Her head was tucked against his chest in absolute intimacy. More memories clawed their way to the surface.

Maya always knew every single one of Brooks's preferences. He hated cilantro, refused ice in his drinks, and obsessed over that 24hour diner on the west side.

She remembered things I occasionally forgot. Flawlessly. At the company, Brooks always covered for Maya's mistakes.

If she messed up, he would just laugh and brush it off as youthful carelessness. Anyone else would have been fired on the spot.

Then there were the endless, coincidental business trips and late nights. If Brooks flew to New York, Maya conveniently had a project there too.

If Brooks had to work late, Maya would text me that she was stuck at her desk rushing a proposal. None of it was a coincidence.

Every overlap was a meticulously orchestrated betrayal. The game dragged on. The game master asked Maya to explain why her character kept her romance with the male lead a secret.

Maya lifted her head and looked right at me. Her eyes were swimming in tears.

She looked so pitiful that anyone would feel sorry for her. "Because I love her too much," Maya whispered. "She is my best friend. The only family I have left in this world.

I would rather suffer in silence for the rest of my life than hurt her." A single, perfectly timed tear slipped down her cheek.

It hit the table, leaving a tiny dark stain on the wood. The other players immediately started comforting her, praising her loyalty and sacrifice. I just sat there.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, so sharp it almost brought tears to my eyes.

I remembered the day three years ago when I flashed Brooks's engagement ring in Maya's face, practically vibrating with excitement as I told her we were getting married.

She had looked at me with those exact same tearfilled eyes. She used the exact same words. Even the pauses between her breaths were identical. She told me she was thrilled for me.

She promised to be my sister for life and guard my happiness. Turns out, guarding my happiness meant stealing my husband and hijacking my life.

Watching this disgusting display of fake devotion play out in front of me, the last shred of my denial evaporated. Maya was the tragic heroine of this script.

And in reality, my best friend was my husband's secret mistress. Chapter 4 Act Three of the script pushed the plot to its climax.

The game master pulled out a men's white dress shirt and laid it on the table. A glaring crimson lipstick stain marked the collar. It was a prop clue.

According to the script, my character discovers the stain on her husband's collar, goes completely hysterical, and ultimately paints herself as the unhinged, controlling villainess.

Brooks picked up the shirt. He let out a rehearsed, helpless sigh and looked at me, ready to deliver his lines. I stared at the red smear.

A memory from last month flashed in my mind. I was sorting the laundry and found the exact same crimson smudge on the collar of Brooks's white shirt. Dior 999.

Maya's signature shade. When I confronted him, panic had flashed in his eyes before he quickly smoothed his expression.

He claimed a female coworker tripped and accidentally brushed against him. Maya happened to be at my house that day.

She grabbed my hand and immediately jumped to his defense. "Sutton, don't overthink it," she had said. "Brooks isn't that kind of guy. We all know how devoted he is to you.

It's just a misunderstanding." I believed her. I thought it was an accident and actually apologized to him for being paranoid. Looking back, it was never a misunderstanding.

It was the physical evidence of their shameless affair, and the punchline to the joke that was my life. Following the script, I was supposed to snatch the shirt and scream at him.

He would play the innocent victim, and in front of everyone, I would become the unreasonable, suffocating antagonist. Brooks cleared his throat.

He locked eyes with me and started his line. "Listen to me, it's just a misunder—" A sharp, deafening slap cut him off.

The crack echoed through the private room, shattering the fake atmosphere. I struck his face with every ounce of strength in my body. My palm burned.

The physical sting was nothing compared to the phantom blades twisting in my chest. Dead silence suffocated the room. The smiles froze on the other players' faces.

The game master stood paralyzed, not even noticing his script slipping from his hands onto the table. Brooks clutched his cheek, his head whipped to the side.

The shock in his eyes morphed into raw fury. He glared at me in pure disbelief. "Sutton! What the hell are you doing?! It's a game! Are you out of your mind?" Out of my mind?

Maybe I was. Driven insane by the sickening hypocrisy of these two. I ignored him and snapped my gaze to Maya. She sat frozen, her skin turning a sickly shade of gray.

Pure panic darted through her eyes as she flinched away from the impact. I raised my hand and delivered a brutal backhand across her face. The force was even harder than the first.

Maya let out a piercing shriek. She shot out of her chair, covering her cheek as her eyes immediately welled with red. "Sutton! Are you crazy?!" My best friend.

The irony left a vile taste in my mouth. I slowly turned my head back to Brooks, my expression deadpan. "Did you enjoy cheating on me, Brooks?

How does it feel to sleep with my best friend?" That line was not in the script. Chapter 5 Brooks stopped breathing for a fraction of a second. He stared at me.

The initial shock evaporated from his eyes, leaving him gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

He could not even manage a baseline denial. Maya's sob hitched in her throat. Her hands trembled against her cheeks.

The pitiful, fragile victim facade instantly shattered as she scrambled back in her chair.

The other players exchanged wideeyed glances, practically buzzing with shock and curiosity. The game master stood frozen, completely at a loss for how to salvage the session.

I found every answer I needed in Brooks's eyes. His silence was the ultimate confession. I turned around and sat back down in my chair. I picked up my phone.

The private room was dead silent. The only sound was the sharp, rhythmic tapping of my nails against the glass screen.

I pulled up my text thread with Carmen, our company's top legal counsel. My parents had handpicked her years ago, and she handled family disputes with surgical precision.

I typed rapidly. [Carmen, draw up the divorce papers. Take him for everything.

I'll send you the complete chain of evidence tonight.] [I want Brooks walking out with absolutely zero. Erase him from my life.] The delivered notification popped up.

I locked the screen and set the phone facedown on the table. I tilted my head up and met Brooks's terrified stare.

A cold smile stretched across my lips. "Keep going," I said, enunciating every syllable. "Act Three isn't over yet.

We have to play the game to the very end." The game master stared blankly for a long moment before forcing a shaky laugh. "Wow, great acting, everyone.

The emotion was so raw, I got completely sucked in.

Let's just ride this tension and keep going, alright?" His voice broke the suffocating silence, but the freezing tension remained. Nobody dared to speak.

The other players cast cautious, probing glances at the three of us. The air was so thick with awkward hostility that even breathing felt risky.

The game awkwardly resumed, but the initial hype was dead. Brooks sat slumped in his chair, completely zoned out. He had dropped his hand.

The angry red handprint on his cheek practically glowed under the harsh lights. Maya kept her head down, shrinking into the corner.

She did not dare look at anyone, especially not me or Brooks. Her hair fell forward, hiding the matching red welt on her face, her shoulders shaking with silent tremors.

I sat in my seat, my pulse steady, staring at the script on the table. The rest of Act Three was a soap opera nightmare.

According to the plot, three years later, the male lead is at a cafe when a little boy who looks exactly like him runs up and hugs his leg, calling him Daddy.

Then the female lead appears, tearfully explaining everything.

Supposedly, after marrying the villainess, the male lead fell into a deep depression, drinking himself to sleep every night.

The female lead, his best friend and the villainess's closest confidante, could not bear to see him suffer. She kept him company.

One drunken night led to another, and she ended up pregnant. But due to a rare medical condition, doctors warned her that an abortion would be fatal.

Not wanting to ruin the villainess's marriage, she chose to carry the burden alone, fleeing the country to raise the child in secret.

Now, with her mother deathly ill, she was forced to return, accidentally bringing the child facetoface with his father.

Chapter 6 According to the script, the male lead breaks down in tears after learning the truth, drowning in guilt toward the female lead and their child.

Right on cue, the villainess appears, witnesses the whole thing, and completely loses her mind. Everyone around the table was fully immersed in the heavy plot.

Then, the private room door slammed open. It hit the wall with a deafening crash. We all snapped our heads toward the noise.

A little boy, maybe four or five years old with a tiny backpack strapped to his shoulders, ran straight into the room. His eyes darted around the space before locking onto Brooks.

His face lit up. He threw his arms wide open and launched himself directly into Brooks's chest. "Daddy! You really are here!" Brooks froze