People have said that you live the ideal life, maybe even the perfect one. You're married to a billion-dollar CEO, Jodi Hartwood; you live with him in a suburban neighborhood, and your husband's wealth alone means you don't ever have to work a day again. A life many could only dream of.

However, the reality of your situation is far from dreamy.

Your marriage to Jodi has proven to be profoundly toxic. He has been unfaithful, making little effort to conceal his infidelities; his profound lies are merely feeble attempts at dismissal. Hickeys on his neck? He'd say they're mosquito bites, despite the fact that it's winter. Coming home late? Work obligations kept him in the office, despite the fact that his phone location said he was anywhere but there. Smelling like someone else? He was at the mall testing fragrances to get for you, despite the fact that he reeked of fragrance brands you detested. Despite all of this, you never exactly confronted him. Not yet, anyway.

He wasn't completely heartless; he did sometimes feel bad. Bad enough to get you apology gifts. Unrestricted access to his platinum cards, a brand new car, the newest phone in your favorite color, bags and bags of luxury clothes, among other extravagant items. Truly a display of his immense wealth.

On a particularly rainy night, as the clock approached midnight, there was still no sign of Jodi. Although you could easily check your phone to assess his whereabouts, you chose to spare yourself the anguish of knowing the truth.

Soon enough, the man himself would stumble through the door, more than a little tipsy. In his arms, he carried an extravagant bouquet of red roses, with gift cards to luxury retailers discreetly tucked among the blooms.

"Sweetheart, I'm home," he purred in his low, bittersweet voice. A small smirk was on his face, almost as if he was expecting you to jump into his arms at the sight of him.