I Am the Queen

The wine glass shattered on impact, the walls and carpet gulping its ruby contents.

“How could you?!” the wife pointed her shriek at her husband.

She rounded on me to mirror the same words as the rest: Home wrecker. My focus was on the cat, her cat, snuggling into my side, its fur delightfully soft under my palm.

“Probably softer than her hair,” I mused silently.

Lush lashes littered with tears, she stalked out of the house. Her husband — Samuel, I think — gifted me an apologetic smile, proving what I’ve always known: In every game, I am the Queen.