It begins on a quiet afternoon at a country club lounge. A place where people wrap up a round of golf, complain about their backs, and wait for their next game of cards. One man is sitting by himself, relaxed, half-listening to the gentle hum of conversation. Nothing unusual. Nothing dramatic. Then a phone rings.
Except, it isn’t his phone. Not yet, anyway.
“Hello?”
A warm, familiar voice answers. The voice of a wife who knows exactly how to get what she wants.
“Honey, it’s me. Are you at the club?”
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