Kingdom Come

Epilogue:

February 15...

She was alone in her little black dress, a wine glass in front of her, barely touched. Tears pricking her eyes as the blues of Moody swirled softly around her. The cigarette glowed brightly in the dim lights as she took a deep breath. She blew the smoke out in a long exhale, cursing the fucking, little whore's instagram engagement post on full display in front of her.

Clayton never took a single photo with her! Why is she special? Her thoughts turned darker with every single minute that passed by.

"Fucking little whore. I hate her. I hate them both!" she spat.

Martha was sitting at the exact spot they met less than a year ago. She was remembering the caressing, the flashes of smiles, the intense flirting as they canoodled in the dark corners, which quickly turned into animalistic, toe-curling sex, — once in his truck and twice back at his place. He sent her home to her husband the next morning in a sexed-up love haze, his cologne all over her and his handprint on her ass.

She was hooked from that moment on.

For five months. He was hers! Her thoughts hissed, destroying that moment of reflection with nothing but hatred. She had to beg him to go to Edgartown with her this past summer with her friends. They had a great time, although she thought. It felt normal, like a real relationship. He was attentive, kind and even made an effort with her friends. She just wanted to do anything with him, Martha was begging for it. He always refused. All he wanted was sex and that's it, but then this whore comes along and they are fucking engaged within three months.

WHAT! MAKE THAT MAKE FUCKING SENSE!

The bitch has even taken to wearing his jacket like a tacky-lovesick groupie whore. In return, Martha noticed in the photos, he'd even taken to wearing one of her thin, silver rings, with what looked like a small turquoise stone on his pinky finger. He wouldn't dare even suggest anything like that when SHE asked.

HOW FUCKING TACKY!

The memories overloaded her mind in a red haze as she flicked her long, newly straightened hair out of her face, taking another deep breath of her cigarette, fueling her rage and nausea

She left her husband for him. Clayton was refusing her calls now and that made her anxious, she wanted him more than ever.

"He is fucking mine. Little bitch" she repeated, taking a closer look at that ugly piece of shit she called an "engagement ring." That smile was haunting her in the photos as she stared at them, studying every pixel.

"You know you can't smoke it here Miss!" a man-child called out to her from behind the bar.

Martha glared at the bartender, using her glass as an ashtray. His bow tie annoyed her. She was really angry now.

"A whiskey kind sir. Neat," a voice, a sickly sweet British voice, called out behind her

She turned to react, only to be greeted by black soulless eyes in an Dior suit, pinstriped. But his face looked sore and swollen - purple and blue shadows crawling underneath his pale skin.

He ignored her, taking his place next to her as the bartender poured the drink quickly, walking away in anger. He grabbed her phone, staring at the post without a thought.

Martha shuffled uncomfortably on the barstool.

"I said YES. Blah. Ring emoji. Vomit. Yuck. Ouch. This must hurt Martha," he mocked.

Before she could respond. He handed her phone back.

She couldn't stop staring at the two girls now standing behind him. How similar they looked. Both dressed in black, one a little taller than the other. How similar they looked to fucking Alison.

"My name is Philip. Enchantée. This is Vanessa, my pride and first wife. Helena, my joy and second wife. We share everything in this family," he said, using his index finger to casually point to each girl.

Martha saw him place a hand on the first girl's stomach, tenderly, Vanessa blushed while Helena looked tense.

After a few seconds, he lazily turned back towards Martha, his dark expression returning, "These lovely ladies were both his, now they are mine. Before you ask, I know who you are Martha Shaw. I know everything about you. I know you are recently separated from your useless man-boy husband. You have three lovely children at home with a babysitter. I know you have both American and Japanese passports. You went to some fancy boarding school in Switzerland, and I know Miller rejected you and broke your poor little heart for the little slut across the road."

She was speechless but impressed all at once, as he continued, "I want you to join me. You will be my colère and third wife. I want to hurt them as much as you do my sweet Martha."

Quickly taking a slip of his whiskey. He smiled, "I can help you, truly. But fucking Miller is always around. I can't get six fucking feet near HER or the family without him knowing about it. He fucking took my Ruth from me too. She was my life, so now I'm taking his Allie Bear. Her daddy is worth a lot of money, I'm merely taking the debt he owes my boss. A life for a life bullshit. I definitely have big plans for them both."

Martha stared for a minute. There was no turning back.

"They are fucking engaged. She took him from me. I don't want to just hurt her. I want cold-blooded revenge," she admitted. Philip's lips parting as if acting shocked.

Martha replayed the scene in her mind that morning all the time, "You better leave her alone. I mean it."

Fucking prick is going to get what is coming to him - his little whore too! Her thoughts drooled their venom.

Martha breathed in deeply, reaching her left hand out. He grabbed it, looking down at her rock-of-an engagement ring and simple platinum wedding band.

His eyes cold. She suddenly read the room. All three eyes were on her.

She wasn't married to Eric anymore  With that thought and a little tug, Martha pulled her rings off. Throwing them in front of her, flashing a smile towards her gentleman suitor and his brides as they relaxed.

He groped the Vanessa girl, pulling Helena closer as Martha watched, "Okay. Tell me everything babe. Where he lived. Who he saw. His favorite sex position. Hell, even throw his favorite deodorant brand for giggles. Everything. Don't miss a thing."

"I'm pregnant. Fourteen weeks" Martha finally admitted out loud...like word vomit.

"Ah...and who is the father?" Philip said, suddenly very interested. His beady-black, soulless eyes staring at her.

"Oh....You don't know. The now ex-husband, Eric, or the ex-lover, Clayton? Maybe even the third guy you were fucking alongside them that neither of them knew about? Regardless, quite the predicament you're in my darling," he mocked, taking another sip of whiskey, ignoring the mist forming in Martha's eyes as the other two girls glanced her way.

Martha could feel the judgment washing over her.

She lit up another cigarette, ignoring the fact she was pregnant. She carefully studied him as he kissed both girls with ease before he spoke again, "Things are now in motion my loves. By morning, I want all of us to be in Brazil together, one big happy family. So let's celebrate and fuck the night away before the real work begins."

Martha gingerly smiled. She was ready to spill all the beans as she leaned back. Smugness dripping off her.

Payback is a bitch she thought, joining in on the party...