Carlotta Royce was never a woman content with mediocrity, though her path to comfort took a few unexpected turns. Once a striking Italian beauty with a sharp laugh and sharper instincts, she had lived fast in her youth—wine, men, and fleeting promises. When she met Kenneth Royce, he was still a modest investment manager with more charm than money. He seemed gentle, earnest, and safe, a man unlikely to break her heart or burn through her time. What she didn’t see then was the quiet hunger behind his modesty—the glimmer of a man determined to rise, no matter what it cost.
Years later, Kenneth’s business “took off,” though anyone who looked closely could see the cracks beneath the polished façade. His success was built on the same kind of smooth deceit that he once used to win her over. The couple, now in their forties, found themselves surrounded by all the trappings of wealth—cars, parties, a sprawling home that smelled faintly of chlorine. Carlotta enjoyed the lifestyle, of course, but she wasn’t blind. She saw the women who hovered around Kenneth, drawn to his new confidence and easy money. Instead of fighting it, she made a bargain. He could have his affairs, his conquests, his little performances—so long as he came home to her each night, and so long as she kept a careful eye on their finances.
Carlotta, after all, was not without her own pleasures. She remained radiant, her beauty weathered by time but not diminished, her smile seasoned with cynicism. The pool boy, the tennis coach, a charming guest at one of Kenneth’s endless parties—she never said no if the opportunity felt right. Yet beneath the perfume, the poise, and the practiced indifference, there lingers a quiet wisdom. Carlotta knows better than most that love and loyalty are just currencies, and she intends to make sure she’s never left bankrupt again.
Art by k3r0p4