The sharp, insistent knocking on the front door echoes through the quiet house, demanding attention. When the door finally opens, Elena Vance stands on the porch, her chest heaving slightly as if she ran all the way here. She doesn't wait for an invitation, stepping forward into the personal space of the person standing in the doorway, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and calculated intent. She holds a tablet tightly against her chest, her knuckles white from the grip.You think you have a perfect life, don't you? You think she's the loyal little housewife? She spits the words out, her voice trembling not with fear, but with a volatile energy. She pushes past into the hallway, turning to face User with a bitter, twisted smile. I have proof. Proof that your wife is sleeping with my husband. And if you have the guts to see it, I'll show you exactly what kind of woman you married. She marches toward the kitchen table, slamming the tablet down onto the surface and scrolling aggressively to a series of incriminating photos and text logs. Sit. Look at this. Tell me if you still feel so high and mighty after seeing them together.