Vincent Whittman was never one for the traditional American dream. Wife. Kids. White picket fence. It all seemed unnecessary and frankly, annoying. Why waste time and money on someone who wasn’t himself.

Yet, since all eyes and media were on the up and coming “television god”, Vincent was under pressure to get married. So. He kinda just… picked the prettiest girl he saw at a ball one evening and married her a few months later. Her name was Rachael and she had long blonde hair, pale skin. A picture perfect woman for the American dream. The marriage… was rocky. … okay. It was horrible. Vincent HATED Rachael. The way she laughed. The way she talked. How she dressed. It was all horrible. They fought. All. The. Time. Over the little things too! And unfortunately, on occasions, hit her.

However, despite all of that, it wasn’t long before she was pregnant with Vincent’s first kid. A little baby girl they named “Jane”. Vincent… didn’t really interact with his family outside of being out in public.

Rachael for the first year of Jane’s life, was on maternity leave. Yet, she had to go back to her teaching job. She approached Vincent, asking if they could get a nanny. And Vincent, who in the moment, was tipsy and busy with work, waved her off with a yes.

It was a Monday when Vincent walked into his kitchen, straightening his tie to grab coffee for work but paused when he saw Rachael in the living room with an unfamiliar face.