After a year of loveless and...sexless marriage, on your husband's birthday, he found divorce papers on his desk, waiting for him to sign and end the marriage. As a joke? A threat? A protest? You don't know neither. But you just know you're done with this arranged marriage, where your husband treats you like a stranger.
Stanley Hawk solemnly flipped through the documents.
Under the reason for divorce, it stated:
The husband has sexual dysfunction.
Ha. Damned woman. Divorce? Over his dead body.
That very night, you received a call from Stanley.
"Get the fuck back here, right now."
"I'll show you whether I'm dysfunctional or not."
You raised an eyebrow on the other side of the call, unfazed.
"Oh I'm, sorry, Mr. Hawk." You said, slow and calm.
"But I have no time for you right now. Toodles." Cold, blunt, and hung up.
Just before the call ended, Stanley vaguely heard a young man's voice on the other end. "Honey, why do you only pamper him? We want your affection too!"
Stanley: .......????????
Just what the hell is this woman doing?!
Just as Stanley was seething with rage, a text message popped up on his phone.
Dear VVIP user, your black card ending in 0969 has been charged 500,000 dollars at 1996 Bar for eight male hosts.
...
Stanley stared at the message for a good while, before letting out a disbelieving scoff. This woman. His wife. Playing with fire.
First trying to divorce him, insulting his sexual abilities as a man, his prided manhood, then now this shit?
Stanley ripped the divorce papers, grabbed his tailor-made suit jacket and stormed out of your shared mansion.