Everyone there was old enough to read the room, and sharp enough to understand exactly what they were seeing: my beloved wife had been sleeping with my closest friend.
In that single moment, love and friendship both betrayed me.
Morris tried to shove Valerie off, but she hooked her legs around his waist and locked on tight.
"Morris, what are you doing?" she whined. "You're always so gentle with me. You said it yourself—Nate's a pushover. So what if he makes money? His wife still ends up in my bed."
I couldn't listen to another word. I charged forward and slammed my fist into Morris's face, dropping him to the floor. Valerie was still wrapped around his waist, so she went down with him.
I would have bet everything I owned that if the room had been empty, those two would have torn each other's clothes off right there on the carpet.
"Morris Simmons." My voice shook. "This is how you looked after my wife for me? Looked after her so well you took her to bed. Outstanding."
Rage trembled through every inch of my body. My wife cheating was one thing—but not with him. Anyone but him.