The Betrayal—Married To My Best Friends Baby Daddy.

“If I asked you to strangle me to death, would you do it?" The question filled the room, too heavy to breathe past. Roland's body reacted instantly, a wave of anger washing over him. His arm, which had been relaxed, now moved away, as he turned, his brow furrowing in a deep frown. "What the hell are you even asking me?" He spat out, his voice thick with disbelief and fury. "No, of course not. We might mess around sometimes, you know, during... things, but that's it." "I'm not that kind of person, and you know that. Why would you even think to ask me that?" His eyes burned with a mixture of rage and confusion, the emotions etched across his face. But instead of fear or remorse, Rissa simply laughed, drawing him back towards her. She leaned back against the pillows, her head finding a place on his chest, her fingers now gently playing with his beard. "Roland?" Her voice, soft yet insistent, caught his attention. He looked down at her. "Am I safe with you?" Before he could respond, before any further protest could form, she gently placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "Just answer the question, please," she murmured. A sigh, heavy with a mixture of confusion and something else he couldn't quite place, escaped him. He looked up, then back down at her. "Do you feel safe with me?" A small, almost musical giggle escaped her, and her hand began to trace lazy circles on his chest. She shrugged slowly. "Before I answer that, can I ask you one more thing?" He nodded slowly, his gaze returning to her, a mix of emotions swirling within him. "Are you happy? Or, perhaps a better question... are you happy being married to me?" Roland straightened, his voice filled with forced enthusiasm. "Of course, sweetheart. This is our ninth year, but it still feels like just yesterday." "And our beautiful Diandra? I wouldn't trade you both for anything!" He declared, attempting to reassure Rissa, but her response was a soft smile, laced with something he couldn't decipher. Her gaze was fixed, and his eyes darted nervously. It was as if she possessed a secret he didn't. "Rissa? Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, and she nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. "I'd like to show you something," she said slowly, rising from the bed with a graceful movement. Her feet found her pink, fluffy flip-flops, and her hand reached for the black silk robe hanging on the rack. She walked to her vanity, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out a few photographs. She returned, her movements fluid as she settled back down, offering the pictures to Roland. Roland, reeling from the photographs, nearly tumbled off the bed. He quickly flipped through all five, his face paling with each image. With a gasp, he tossed them aside and sank to his knees, his hands frantically rubbing together. "Clarissa, please, it's not what you think!" He pleaded, his voice cracking, tears welling in his eyes. A single tear traced a path down Rissa's cheek, which she quickly wiped away. "Not now," she murmured to herself, then gracefully slid off the bed. She moved towards her vanity, pulled out the chair, and sat down, turning to face her husband, whose gaze darted away, unable to meet hers. “You know… I actually knew you'd react this way, Roland. I anticipated it." "That's why I set up cameras in this house. I didn't want to do it, I swear I didn’t." "I wanted to believe you, but your behavior became increasingly deceptive." "After two years of marriage, you started being secretive, and that wasn't what we agreed on." "But, to be honest, I had other things to occupy my time, so I didn't pay much attention." "Then, in our third year, you brought a child into our lives... an infant so beautiful I couldn't resist holding her." "We'd been trying to have a child of our own for a while, and since we hadn't been successful, I agreed to care for her as if she were my own." "Roland, I asked you who that child belonged to, and you told me it was Frederick's." She sighed, struggling to contain her tears. She sniffed and continued, "I went to his funeral with you, so I believed your story." "I pleaded with you to tell me who her mother was, but you claimed it was a random woman who abandoned her child." "I might have been foolish back then because I didn't want to find her either." "I worried, 'What if she took my Diandra away from me?' So, I stopped asking and embraced the situation." "Months went by, and you still weren't giving me the attention I needed, so I wanted to know what and who was occupying your time." "I hired a private investigator, but he couldn't track you because you switched cars so often." "Then it hit me... What if you were being careful in case I followed you?" "So, I brought the investigation home by installing cameras, even though you asked me not to." "I wanted to know what you were hiding, and I did." "It's been three weeks since I found out, watching the videos, and I haven't said a word. The weight has been killing me!!!” "Seeing her every day in this house... don't you think that's commendable?" With a sarcastic tone, a slight smirk playing on her lips, she watched him rise and approach. He knelt before her, but as he reached out, she shifted away, her lower lip caught between her teeth in a display of anger. "I have one question, Roland Tate Georgia. Who does Diandra really belong to because she's not mine. Is she yours? And if she is, who did you betray me with?" As the question hung in the air, he looked up, tears streaming down his face as he nervously ranking his fingers through his hair, remorse evident. This was the breaking point. ---