Who killed my husband's mistress?

Collateral Damage

Caesar let the silence stretch between them, his sharp gaze fixed on Diane. The weight of her words hung in the air, but he wasn’t done. Not yet. “You talk about Tim like he was your whole world,” he finally said, tilting his head slightly. “Like everything between you was perfect. So tell me, Diane… what changed?”

Diane’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She glanced down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “It didn’t change overnight,” she murmured. “It was slow… like cracks forming in glass. You don’t notice them at first. And by the time you do, it’s already too late.”Caesar leaned forward slightly, watching her closely. “And what caused the first crack?”Diane exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening. “Tim changed,” she admitted. “Or maybe… maybe I changed too.”

She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself before she continued. “After Harvard, Tim was hungry for success. He was determined to build something, to become something. And he did. He built his empire, gained power, wealth, and influence. But the more he had, the less he was mine.”

Her voice grew bitter. “I used to be part of his dreams. We made plans together, talked about the future. But as time passed, it wasn’t about us anymore. It was about him. His business. His ambitions. His name.”Caesar nodded slowly. “So, he neglected you?”

“If you put it that way,” she responded, her voice hollow.“He no longer had time for me. He even had a home at his office. I'd go weeks, sometimes months, without seeing my husband. It felt like I was just there to make babies and take care of the house.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Speaking of babies, my children never really felt that connection with their dad. He was always absent. Even the day I gave birth to our last child, he wasn’t there. He didn’t see her until she was four months old.” Her voice wavered. “We were hardly intimate. I didn’t feel him. I craved him, but he wasn’t there for me. And I… I started feeling invisible.” Diane blinked rapidly, as if trying to stop herself from falling apart completely. “I couldn’t bear it. The silence. The emptiness. Different thoughts raced through my mind every second of the day. Different opinions from different people. Some said he was cloned. Others said he had another wife and children in another city. Some even said he just didn’t love me anymore. But deep down, I still felt he did.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I started confiding in my best friend, Brittany. She understood because she had been through something similar. Her husband was a military officer, and there were times she and her kids wouldn’t see him for years.”

Diane closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the night it all began.

The warm glow of the living room lamp flickered as Diane poured another glass of wine. Across from her, Brittany sipped hers, eyes watching her carefully.

“So, let me get this straight,” Brittany said, twirling the stem of her glass. “Tim barely touches you anymore?”

Diane scoffed, shaking her head. “Barely? Brit, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve had a proper conversation this year. He’s always working, always away. And when he’s home, it’s like… like I’m just furniture.”

Brittany clicked her tongue. “Damn.”

Diane exhaled deeply. “I just… I miss feeling wanted, you know? I miss feeling like a woman.”

Brittany gave her a knowing look. “You miss the intimacy.”

Diane nodded, staring at the rim of her glass.

Brittany leaned in. “Listen, I’m not saying you should do anything reckless, but… I know someone.”

Diane frowned. “Someone?”

“A friend. Fred.”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Brit, I’m not looking for a side piece.”

“I know,” Brittany said, holding up her hands. “I’m not saying you should sleep with him. Just talk to him. He’s a good listener, and honestly, you need a friend who’s not me.”

Diane sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know…” “No pressure,” Brittany said with a smirk. “But I’ll send you his number. Just in case.”

Diane never intended to reach out to Fred, but one night, in a moment of loneliness, she did. And to her surprise, he was easy to talk to. He listened. He understood. He didn’t expect anything from her.

Weeks passed, and their conversations became more frequent. They met for coffee, then dinner. Diane told herself it was harmless—Fred was just a friend. But then came the night that changed everything.

The dining table was set. Candles flickered. A bottle of expensive red wine sat untouched beside two empty glasses. Diane glanced at the clock;8:47 PM.

Tim was supposed to be home at 7.

She checked her phone again. Nothing. With a deep sigh, she collapsed into a chair, staring at the untouched plates of food. Another canceled anniversary. Another night spent alone.Her fingers hovered over her phone before she dialed the only number she knew would answer.

“Diane?” Fred’s voice was clear, calm.

Her throat tightened. “He didn’t show up, Fred. Again.” There was silence on the other end before he finally spoke. “I’m coming over.”

She should have said no. Should have told him not to. But she didn’t.

Fifteen minutes later, Fred was at her door. She let him in without a word. He looked at the table,the abandoned dinner, the untouched wine,and sighed.

“You made all this for him?” he asked softly.

Diane nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Fred pulled out a chair and sat beside her. “You don’t deserve this.”

She laughed, but it was bitter. “Doesn’t matter what I deserve, Fred. This is my life.” He reached for the wine, pouring them both a glass. “Then let’s drink. No point in wasting a good bottle.” She hesitated before taking a sip.

They talked. About everything. About nothing. Fred listened, and for once, Diane felt like someone actually saw her.

At some point, he reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away. His thumb brushed against her skin, a soft, lingering touch that sent a shiver through her.

She should have pulled away.She should have told him to leave.But she didn’t.Instead, she leaned into him. Just a little.And that was all it took.

Fred’s lips met hers, tentative at first, then deeper. Her breath hitched as his hands traced the curve of her waist, pulling her closer.Her mind screamed at her to stop, to think, but her body betrayed her. He lifted her off the chair and carried her upstairs, to her and Tim’s bedroom. Diane’s heart hammered in her chest as Fred gently laid her down on the bed. The weight of her emotions, the loneliness, the ache in her chest, seemed to dissolve in the heat between them.

He kissed her, soft and slow, as if testing the waters, his hands moving with a tenderness she hadn’t felt in years. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, that she should stop, that she was betraying Tim, but Fred felt so… present. So alive.The pull of desire, the need to feel something, to feel wanted, was stronger than her guilt. She let him undress her, her mind a whirl of confusion.

She told herself it didn’t mean anything. She told herself it was just a moment of weakness. But when Fred entered her, Diane couldn’t stop herself from responding, from sinking into the moment, from wanting more.

It was a mistake.But at that moment, it didn’t feel like one.

And then…The door slammed open.

“Diane?”

Her blood ran cold.

Tim stood in the doorway, his face dark, unreadable. But his eyes,his eyes burned with something dangerous.

“Tim, I…”

She didn’t even get to finish before he lunged at Fred. The room erupted into chaos. Tim grabbed Fred by the throat, slamming him against the wall. Diane screamed, scrambling out of bed.

“You bastard!” Tim roared, his voice shaking with fury.Fred struggled, choking, his hands clawing at Tim’s grip.

Then, Tim reached for the gun on the nearby table. Diane’s heart nearly stopped.

“No! Tim, stop!” Without thinking, she threw herself between them, arms spread wide, shielding Fred.

Tim’s hands shook as he pointed the gun at Fred. His chest heaved, eyes burning with betrayal and heartbreak.

“Move, Diane,” he growled.But she didn’t. And for the first time, she asked herself why.

Diane sat there in the interrogation room, her breathing uneven as she finished her story. Caesar watched her, tapping his fingers on the table. Then, he leaned forward, his voice low and deliberate. “You stood between your husband and the man you cheated on him with,” he murmured. “Why?”

Diane swallowed, struggling to find the answer. “I… I don’t know.” Caesar tilted his head. “Or maybe you do.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You say you love Tim, but you protected Fred. Was it really guilt that made you step in? Or was it something else?”

Diane’s heartbeat quickened. “I…”Before she could finish, the sharp ring of the telephone cut her off. Caesar stood up, his eyes never leaving hers, and walked over to answer it. He was calm, but there was a subtle gleam in his eye as if he were savoring the moment.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, his tone smooth.Diane sat frozen, the tension in the room almost unbearable as he picked up the call. She knew the weight of her words was building, but now, she didn’t know how to respond. Her thoughts raced, memories of everything she'd been through, the endless betrayals, and the deep pain.

A few minutes passed before Caesar returned. He sat down, his expression more self-assured, as if something had shifted in his favor.He looked at Diane and spoke, his tone sharper now. “And so… you found out that Tim was cheating on you with Jane. He loved her more than you, and that’s why you killed her.”

Diane’s chest tightened, and she shook her head furiously. “I didn’t kill Jane,” she said, her voice rising in frustration.

Caesar tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, clearly enjoying the discomfort in her voice. “Of course you did,” he replied.

“No,” Diane snapped again, her voice shaking. “I swear I didn’t kill her. I didn’t even have the chance to confront Tim properly before everything fell apart. You have to believe me, Caesar. I couldn’t even face him…”

He leaned in, his gaze never leaving her. “All the evidence points to you, Diane. You had a reason, you had the gun, you were in the black sedan seen at the scene…”

“I didn’t have the gun, I don’t own that sedan…” Diane cut herself off, her hands clenching tightly. The walls seemed to be closing in. “It wasn’t me… it was Mariah!” she blurted out, the name coming out before she could stop herself.

A slow, almost predatory smile crept across Caesar's face. He straightened up in his chair, his eyes glinting with something cold and calculated.

“Mariah?” he repeated with a satisfied tone. “Exactly who I’ve been waiting for you to mention.”

The officers around them stirred, murmuring to each other, confused but intrigued. “Mariah? Who is she? We’ve never heard that name before.”Caesar ignored their murmurs, focusing entirely on Diane. “It’s all making sense now….”.