Determined to avenge his unfaithful wife, the millionaire attended a beauty contest and observed models mocking a young cleaner: «Got mops for poles, huh?» Approaching her, the wealthy man murmured: «Dry your tears, come with me…»

Paul Harrison ascended the marble steps of his mansion in Beverly Hills, anticipating the long-awaited reunion with his beloved wife. In his hands, he held a bouquet of red roses, Sophia’s favorite flowers. Today marked exactly five years since he first saw her in an art gallery and lost his head over her beauty.

Back then, she seemed to him like a muse, the embodiment of femininity and refinement. Long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders, and brown eyes radiated such depth that Paul was ready to drown in them forever. He pursued her for a full six months, showering her with expensive gifts, inviting her to the best restaurants, organizing romantic trips around the world.

Sophia resisted for a long time, as if testing the seriousness of his intentions. She came from a good family, but her not-wealthy father worked as a doctor, her mother taught at a university. They lived modestly but decently.

Sophia had dreamed since childhood of a different life—luxurious, vibrant, full of admiring glances. In her youth, she participated in local beauty pageants, but never advanced beyond third place. This painfully wounded her pride.

She saw girls less beautiful than her, but luckier, and couldn’t understand the reason for her failures. When Paul began courting her, Sophia initially didn’t take him seriously. He was eight years older, already a successful businessman, but he looked too proper, too decent.

Not the type of men who usually caught her attention, but gradually she appreciated his qualities. Paul was not just rich; he was smart, gallant, attentive. He listened to her dreams and didn’t laugh at them.

Moreover, he promised to help make them come true. «You could become an international model,» he said. «You have all the necessary beauty, grace, charisma.»

«But I’m not that young anymore to start a modeling career,» Sophia replied. «I’m 24. In our time, that’s no obstacle.

The main thing is desire and the right support.» It was precisely these conversations that tipped the scales. Sophia realized that Paul could give her the life she dreamed of.

Not just luxury, but opportunities for self-realization. Their wedding became the event of the year in high society. Paul spared no expense, renting a historic mansion, hiring the best florists, ordering a dress from a famous designer.

Sophia was the center of attention, just as she had dreamed her whole life. The first two years of marriage were happy. Paul helped Sophia build a career in the modeling business.

He hired the best photographers, arranged several photoshoots for glossy magazines, even organized participation in a few fashion shows. But success didn’t come. Sophia got small gigs, but there was no talk of a serious career.

Agents politely refused, explaining that there were no suitable projects at the moment. In reality, the reason was simpler: Sophia, for all her beauty, lacked that special charisma needed for success in the modeling business. Gradually, the dream turned into disappointment, and disappointment into bitterness.

Sophia began blaming everyone around her for the failures. Photographers who couldn’t capture her beauty, agents who didn’t understand her potential, and even Paul, who, in her opinion, wasn’t trying hard enough. «You could buy a modeling agency,» she said.

«Then everything would be different.» «Sophia, success can’t be bought,» Paul replied. «It has to be earned.»

«Easy to say when you already have everything.» These conversations became more frequent and aggressive. Sophia felt like a failure, and it ate away at her from the inside.

She began suspecting that Paul secretly laughed at her failures, though he never gave any reason for it. And then Brandon Cole appeared in their lives. Paul had met Brandon back in college, and they quickly became best friends.

Brandon was the complete opposite of Paul: impulsive, charismatic, a bit frivolous. He knew how to have fun and make others do the same. After college, their paths diverged.

Paul built his business, while Brandon tried himself in various fields, opening a restaurant, launching a startup, attempting to become a music producer. Nothing worked out, but Brandon didn’t despair. When Paul got married, he invited Brandon to be the best man.

He enthusiastically agreed and made a real splash at the wedding; his toast was the wittiest and most touching at the same time. «Paul was always the smartest of us,» Brandon said, raising his glass. «But today he proved he’s also the luckiest.

Sophia, you’re beautiful as a goddess!» Sophia blossomed from his compliments. Brandon knew how to talk to women, how to charm them. Unlike Paul, who was gallant but reserved, Brandon was expressive and emotional.

After the wedding, Brandon became a frequent guest in the Harrison home. Paul was glad to see his old friend, and Sophia… Sophia began looking at Brandon in a special way. He understood her disappointment, sympathized with her failures in the modeling business.

Moreover, he suggested alternatives. «You could take up acting,» he said. «Or become a TV host.»

«You have great qualities.» «But Paul says that’s not serious.» «Paul is too conservative.

He doesn’t understand creative natures.» Gradually, an emotional connection formed between Sophia and Brandon. At first, they just talked a lot about life, dreams, disappointments.

Then secret meetings in cafes began, long walks when Paul was on business trips. Sophia felt alive and significant next to Brandon. He admired her, idolized her beauty, supported her ambitions.

And most importantly, he understood her disappointment from her failed career. «You’re too good for this world,» he said. «They don’t deserve you.»

A year ago, their relationship moved to a new level. Sophia could no longer resist. Brandon gave her what was missing in her marriage to Paul.

Passion, understanding, a sense of her own importance. But secret dates stopped satisfying Sophia. She wanted more, wanted to be with Brandon officially.

And for that, she needed to get rid of Paul. At first, she thought about divorce, but realized she would lose everything. The prenup was drawn up competently; in case of her infidelity, she got nothing.

And Sophia could no longer live without money. Then Brandon suggested another solution. «Accidents happen all the time,» he said one day.

«Especially with people who work a lot, travel the world often, and don’t watch their health.» Sophia was initially horrified by this proposal. But gradually, the idea took root in her mind.

Paul really worked a lot, often complained of fatigue. If he died of a heart attack, no one would suspect anything. Brandon got the necessary drugs through his acquaintances in a pharmaceutical company.

Small doses of poison that gradually weakened the heart but didn’t raise suspicions. For two weeks, Sophia added the poison to her husband’s evening tea. Paul indeed started feeling worse but attributed it to stress.

Another month, and it would all be over. But today, Paul returned earlier than expected. Ascending the stairs to the bedroom, he heard voices.

Sophia was talking to someone, and that voice seemed familiar to Paul. He slowed his steps, listening. Just a few more weeks, and it’ll all be over, a male voice sounded behind the bedroom door.

«Are you sure no one will suspect anything?» «Of course,» Sophia replied with cold confidence. Paul has no idea. He thinks he’s feeling bad because of work stress.

But still, Paul froze in place. That voice. Brandon? His best friend? And if the doctors find something during the autopsy? The male voice continued.

They won’t. This drug completely dissolves and leaves no traces. A heart attack in a 40-year-old workaholic is a perfectly natural death.

Paul’s heart pounded so loudly that he feared they would hear it. He cautiously approached the slightly open door and peeked inside. What he saw shattered his world into a thousand pieces.

On their marital bed, among silk sheets, lay his wife in the arms of Brandon Cole, his best friend from college days, the best man at their wedding, the person Paul trusted more than anyone in the world. «How much longer do I need to add the poison to his tea?» Sophia asked, gently stroking Brandon’s shoulder. — Maximum a month, he replied.

The heart is already weakened. What about the inheritance? Everything will go to me. The will was drawn up long ago, we have no children.

In six months, after his death, we can get married and enjoy his millions. Brandon laughed. Poor Paul.

So smart in business and so naive in personal life. Doesn’t even suspect that his beloved wife is slowly killing him. He’s too trusting, agreed Sophia.

That’s why he’s so easy to deceive. The bouquet fell from Paul’s hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. The sound echoed through the corridor.

What was that? Brandon worried. Probably the cat knocked something over, Sophia replied carelessly. But Paul could no longer control himself.

The door swung open forcefully, and he burst into the bedroom. — Paul! — Sophia screamed, sharply pulling away from her lover and grabbing the sheet. — You were supposed to return only tomorrow.

Brandon slowly rose from the bed, and there was not a drop of shame on his face, only a brazen smirk. — Oh, hi, old man! — he said with mocking ease. — How untimely you appeared! — We were just discussing your.

Future. Paul stood, unable to utter a word. Fragments of memories flashed in his head: how Brandon was the witness at their wedding, how they spent joint vacations, how Paul shared with him his most intimate thoughts about marriage and future plans.

And all this time. I heard everything. — And how long? — He finally squeezed out in a hoarse voice.

— What exactly interests you? — Brandon asked with cold audacity. — How long we’ve been sleeping together, or how long we’ve been poisoning you? — Brandon, shut up! — Sophia hissed, but he continued. — Our affair has been about a year.

— And we’ve been adding the poison for just two weeks. — Too bad you ruined everything by coming back early. The world around Paul darkened.

— So, his malaise these last days isn’t stress, but the result of slow poisoning. — You wanted to kill me, he whispered. — Wanted.

— Brandon laughed, getting up from the bed. — We still want to. — Just now we’ll have to act faster and… — More radically.

Paul saw Brandon reach for the nightstand, where lay a pistol, a gift from his father for his coming of age. The gleam of metal in the traitor’s hands made Paul’s instincts kick in instantly. He sharply turned and rushed to the door.

— Stop! — Brandon shouted, grabbing the weapon. Paul dashed out of the bedroom and raced down the corridor. A deafening shot rang out behind him.

The bullet whistled past his head and hit an antique painting on the wall, leaving a smoking hole in the canvas. — You won’t get away! — Brandon yelled, running out of the bedroom. — You know too much.

Paul ran down the corridor, with shots thundering behind him. The second bullet shattered a mirror, the third—a crystal vase on the dresser. Shards tinkled underfoot.

He burst into the nearest room. It turned out to be a guest bathroom. He slammed the door and turned the key just as Brandon reached the door.

— Open up. He pounded furiously on the door with his fists. — You’ll never get out of here anyway.

With trembling hands, Paul grabbed his mobile phone and dialed the security service number. — Come immediately. He shouted into the receiver, trying to drown out the pounding on the door.

— Armed killers in my house. They’re trying to shoot me. — Mr. Harrison? The operator asked.

— We’re on our way. — Hold on. I hear you’re calling security.

Brandon shouted. But we’ll finish the job before they arrive. The door shook under the blows.

Brandon was apparently trying to kick it down. — Sophia! — he yelled. — Get the axe from the storage room…