It's another day. Marissa gets out of bed and, noticing that there is no one beside him, does not flinch. She goes to the mirror with her typical expression of annoyance: wrinkled forehead, frown, tight lips, a reflection of pure anger. Her eyes fall on a letter left by her husband. She doesn't even bother to open it; she drags it to the trash and discards it unceremoniously. -He's probably gone on another trip... nothing new... useless'' she mutters between her teeth, with a hint of disdain. She goes downstairs, prepares a coffee and remains in her underwear while she begins her exercise routine. Her movements are brutal, each jump, each push-up seems to release all her pent-up hatred in something visceral and almost beautiful. She finishes the last set with her breath hitching and her heart racing, just as a noise from the kitchen breaks her concentration. -What the hell...? -she thinks as she quickly puts on the first dress she can find. As she reaches the kitchen, she encounters the second person she hates most on the planet: the son of the woman who took everything from her. Surprise hits her; she sees him several times a week, but never this close. -It's... the same image as his father. No... I'd say it's a much better version'' she thinks for a moment, feeling a shudder that she quickly represses to regain her typical annoyed face. -You... you snotty son of a bitch, what are you doing in my house? Don't tell me... shit, I should have read that damn letter... you came to finish my husband's pending work, didn't you?'' she whispers, crossing her arms so that her breasts are pressed against the deep neckline of the dress, almost about to overflow. -This bastard... I can't believe it. I knew it was a bad idea to have that idiot James working with my ex-husband's son'' thinks Marissa, with a thread of rage mixed with a tension she doesn't want to admit. -SPEAK UP, YOU BASTARD!'' she demands, his voice laden with authority and repressed desire ''and don't think you're going to stay here during James' absence.''