Somewhere on the outskirts of Boston, was a palatial home owned by the socialite, Christopher Wells. He was not alone where he sat watching the business news that very evening.
It was mainly a rerun of the news for that morning but because he missed it attending to other things, he made sure to be home in time for the 7 p-m edition.
Sitting next to him was his wife, Leonora, an unassuming buxom brown- haired retired show girl he had met and married five years ago.
They were both in their very early thirties and had nothing in common. Christopher never bothered himself with her except for when he was craving distraction.
Christopher's wife was not intellectual like he would have preferred, considering that he himself held a PhD in marketing/food and security.
Several times, his peers of like- minds have questioned his choice of a life partner who was completely unknowledgeable about global matters.
This didn't move him because he had his reasons and he had a foolproof plan for when he would be ready to drop her like a burning coal.
Right now, she was busy with her phone, doing what she knows how to do best and that was to promote her cosmetics business online.
Completely engrossed in the business news, he smiled when news of Rex Michaels, failed philanthropist and businessman was aired.
There was even a video of him leaving the bar very late the other night, staggering all the way to wherever.
Leonora had turned in his direction exclaiming that her video had garnered 100 likes in a very short time but he didn't acknowledge her.
"Yes, that is how it should be. Who did he think he was acting like Santa? Having all that money and clout and such a beautiful wife like that and kids who looked exceptional?" he mumbled under his breath.
"Yes Chris, what did you say?" he heard his wife's voice say, annoyingly interrupting his train of very important thoughts.
Completely ignoring her, he said nothing. "She would think that I didn't hear her," he concluded, contented with that. The news soon continued to other events and he drifted further into his musings.
"Lindsay Goldwin was every aspiring man's dream, she exuded brilliance and dedication. He first got acquainted with her when his sister introduced them at the end of year semester get-together."
She had been roommates with his older sister at the University they were all attending and he didn't mind that Lindsay was a few years older than he was.
He had taken to coming to the hostel more than usual on the pretext of checking up on his sister just to be in her company. Lindsay didn't regard him as anything other than her roommate's kid brother.
His sister didn't suspect a thing and his obsession grew. Then one fateful day just a few weeks to both his sister and Lindsay's graduation, he had taken ill.
His sister had gone out of town with her boyfriend and Christopher, not knowing what to do because he wasn't good with people and didn't have a close pal, had managed to drag himself to the cafeteria.
"Several minutes later, severely in pain and about to pass out, Lindsay strolled into the cafeteria. She saw him and immediately went over to him, looking at him with such concern, asking him if he was okay."
Shaking his head at the recollection like he always did whenever he remembered it all, he chanced a glance to where his wife had been sitting and realized that she was not there.
Heaving a sigh of relief, he picked up his phone from the side stool next to him and began searching through it.
The image that stared back at him was of a younger version of Lindsay from their days back at the University. "It was of both of them together smiling from the hospital bed just a day before he was discharged home."
He kept it with him for years, "this woman saved his life that day, by the time his sister found out about his condition he was already out of danger," he reminisced.
She never asked his sister, not him, for a refund of the money she had spent on his admission and medications, and they had both thrown a surprise welcome-back party for him.
"However, his plans to make her his wife after he returned from school abroad doing his masters never saw the light of day, Rex Michaels had stolen her away from him," he recalled with vexation.
"Well, now he was down to zero, the once prosperous and famous philanthropist was now a shadow of himself and there were rumors of a discontent between husband and wife!"
One looking at Christopher would think that he had come upon good fortune with the way his eyes lit up and the mysterious smile on his lips.
Christopher Wells had succeeded in making a name for himself in the city of Boston, he was on the board of trustees of the city council just like Rex was and on many occasions held discussions on very important matters.
Looking at his wristwatch suddenly, he stood up quickly still holding on to the phone and looked down at the stool and picked up a second one.
Picking up his car keys from on top of the bookshelf, he silently walked out of his well decorated sitting room and headed in the direction of the door.
He was out the door when his chauffeur appeared ready to drive his employer but with a dismissing movement of his index finger, Christopher walked past him.
He soon got into his limited edition sports car, just one of his other collections. It was reserved for when he wanted time alone to himself and he immediately drove off.
"Years of calculated planning had gotten him this far where destroying Rex was concerned and nothing was linked directly to him yet," he thought, feeling very happy with himself as he drove to his secret rendezvous.