Prologue:

He did not kiss her when he walked in. Mellie knew what that meant. He probably went down on her.

The tell-tale signs were always there. The bounce in his step, the deepening of the swagger in his walk, and of course, his very red ears, it was all there.

"Hi!" he said brightly as walked into the bedroom of in the residence. It was a cold January night. It had been a few weeks since Fitz's inauguration. The excitement of his ascendency to the Presidency however had been reserved to politics, media coverage and his aides. Mellie was happy for him, truly. He had accomplished a lifelong dream. But as far as their marriage was concerned, well, that was a different story.

"Hello." She answered coldly, turning the page of the Time magazine that she was reading.

It had not gotten better in the sense that they were the perfect couple. They never would be that. But he could at least he pretend. At least he could pretend for the sake of their children that he could stand to be in same room with her. They had begun to notice the distance years ago. The most hurtful had been when Karen, their oldest daughter had made the national honor roll for the first time her freshmen year of high school. There had been a ceremony.

Mom, if you want to come, come, if dad wants to come he can too, but I do not need both you there pretending to be in love and stuff.

It was painful. Even her daughter judged her. The looks of disgust, the rolling of her eyes, the young woman constantly made biting comments about her parent's marriage.

The day you get a divorce is the day Karen stop making comments. Jerry had said smugly the last time he was home from school.

She was not sure if they knew if their father was having an affair. But they were smart kids.

What made it even more insulting was the fact that she, the other woman was flaunted in her face every day. It was almost like the universe was punishing her for being a supportive wife. The glowing press coverage, the incessant worshiping and the praise of Olivia Pope was everywhere. The infamous Time magazine profile, The Ultimate Work wife…with the black and white photo of Olivia whispering in her husband's ear. It was a photo that had become iconic. It fit the media narrative of Olivia being the brains of political strategy for the administration.

Looking at her, she looks more apropos as a cast member of Sex and the City. But to spend any time with her is to be impressed by a woman so steeped in political knowledge, it unnerves one.

It made her sick. The whole thing. And now here she sat, staring at her husband as he loosened his tie. A tie that Olivia had gotten him as a "gift for his win."

"So how was your day?" she asked coolly. He looked over his shoulder as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. His eyes, his face said it all.

"It was great, briefings, that kind of stuff." He smiled. Mellie nodded.

"Is that why you were late?" she asked. Staring him in the eye. I know you fucked her today.

He smiled nodding his head as if to say, "I know what this is about." He walked over to her side of the bed, leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. There was no passion, no sense of love, but a mere formality. But what had made her stomach turn was the smell.

The musky smell of her fragrance on him. She could not deny she had good taste in fragrances. It was sweet and feminine. Gucci maybe…

As he stood up straight to look at her, she could see a smudge. Tiny, peach and very clear, just on the shoulder of his undershirt. It was almost like those old-fashioned photographs of Marilyn Monroe, that she signatured with a lipstick kiss.

Olivia loved light toned lipsticks….

"I'm going to go take a shower." He said casually. She stared at him. Was he taunting her? What was that dancing in his eyes? It was almost a look of triumph. Payback for years of her coldness. Sure, she had her fair share of fun. But she had never fallen in love with those men. He on the other hand, seemed to take pleasure in making her suffer. He did not even bother to hide the evidence anymore.

"Sure". She said smiling tightly. Inside she was seething. The level of disrespect…she had noticed the mounting carelessness. The black lace La Perla bra she had found under the bed and the long curly black strand of hair she had found in the shower.

And the crown jewel, the afternoon she had left her scarf in the residence. She had been in the closet, digging around, when she suddenly heard giggling. Her giggling. She stayed in the closet, holding her breath, waiting for them to finish. But it took a while. A long hour. One that cause her to feel like she had would throw up. The closet door was cracked slightly so she could see them.

Her lithe body bending and contorting in varying positions, the primal yells. His head in between her legs….

It was something that haunted her. Every day. The flashes of that unfortunate afternoon came back to her. She had never known Fitz to be that wild and unhinged. Apart of her was curious, jealous even. Fitz had always been a good lover. But the dominant lothario he was not. In their own, somewhat non-existent sex life, he always seemed bored, distant and clinical. As if his only goal was to get the whole thing over with.

But with her, he grabbed, clawed and growled. He repeated her name like a prayer, one that was desperate to redeem him.

It was another example of the twisted nature of their marriage. The dysfunction that if people had only known about, she would not be sitting in this pristine bedroom, in the very bed he consistently screwed his mistress.

If people had known…

But this took years in the making….this kind of twisted arrangement did not just happen overnight.