Hedley Mullins was a suit, by which was meant that he was executive class, though, out of it, one would never be able to tell by the low character of his expressed genes that he was anything more than a criminal or a chimney sweep. His face wore the ugliness of low lineage, but, somewhere along the line, one of his relatives had stumbled upon some lucrative con, which had, eventually, put Hedley in a position of enough privilege to leverage. He had risen up the ranks of his corporation, as had his former spouse, and they had been the epitome of the East coast power couple … until that was no more. In short, Hedley was a cheap suit in an expensive one but was in need of a Stepford Wife. 

It was a peculiar psychological phenomenon that those in the, former, Mullins’ position were greedy by constitution and thought themselves … special, although they would never admit as much in polite society, in which feigned humility, and even self-advantageous generosity, was customary. But they believed it nonetheless, as everyone in their orbit did and said as much where only their kind could hear. The general populous were rabble to be exploited in the name of profit. They existed to serve their “betters.” That conception wasn’t simply part of their job titles. It was the job, and they had accepted that prerequisite readily, had even trained for it at the “best” schools. That is was a sociopathic proposition and bore no truth to it whatsoever never occurred to them. Money made them better. 

But men like Hedley harbored a subconscious disdain for their powerful partners, as they expected to be deferred to in all things, even those of them who obsequiously fawned over their spouses and children. And, once Hedley had his freedom, for whatever reason, in lieu of seeking a new partner, a new equal, he set his sights … lower. Now why a man accustomed to being praised as high-powered and esteemed for his status in a power couple would suddenly begin slumming for a new mate was a bit of a mystery … but only if one were unfamiliar with the traits of those who craved power and wealth and had gained it or been born into it. 

In the annals of the world time over could be found the answer. Men like Hedley were secretly depraved, tending to have sick predilections only indulged in private. They liked to be obeyed, and he had discovered that a partner whom he considered his equal would never meet his coveted secret desires. So he looked lower. He did not search the night for street walkers, though that is, essentially, what he was after. No, he still had to maintain some semblance of respectability. What he sought was a woman from a good family, with upper-middle-class associations. A respectable woman, whom no one would question as to her origins or his interest in her. But he also desired someone without any power of her own, and, especially, someone whom he could awe with his privilege and position, his possessions and tacit offer to raise her from the “gutter.” She also had to be neurotic and submissive, making her that much easier to tear away from her circle of support, to isolate. He did not seek a partner. He sought an indentured servant. He did not want a new merger. He wanted to make a purchase. And he found one. 

Kayla Schumacher was a divorcee, who worked for next to nothing. She had maintained herself on her own for years, but was, clearly, in search of some sort of financial security, some status to match that of her friends. She had been alone for years raising her children, but now they were grown. She had, moreover, been herself raised to defer and had recently experienced a crushing loss of a loved one. Hedley salivated over the prospect. She was too good to be true. Though Kayla was not what he was used to physically-speaking, being overly petite, childishly so, and having lost most of her youthful looks, she was still passable, could be “fixed,” and her obvious lack of self-esteem met Hedley’s needs perfectly. So he pounced. Though he would never see her as an equal in any romantic relationship, or any relationship, that was precisely what he wanted. He wanted a subservient concubine, not a willful soul. He desired someone he could debase and manipulate once he had her under his control. Someone who would do whatever he asked. 

Kayla fell for his con almost immediately. She was desperate to have someone, like all her friends, and the allure of a high-powered executive was something she could not turn down. Yes, he was ugly, far uglier than she could still get, but his wealth, status, and odd interest in her offset his looks in her calculus. She did not understand his motivations, but, fearing life alone at her age, she allowed her mind to turn Hedley into something wonderful, though he was decidedly anything but. He was the rock star who had chosen her, no one, out of the crowd … likely only for a one night stand. And he, playing his game, swept her off her feet with the standard, uninventive tripe of romance that he knew, which consisted in spending money on her. It was an even sicker version of 50 Shades, more inwardly sadistic and vile, more self-debasing. Man was that book a real piece of shit. It’s only value was in exposing the sickness of modern society, a sickness both Hedley and Kayla had embraced. 

She stayed with him, even after the initial artificial “magic” wore off, and even after his attitude toward her became more and more condescending. She simply presumed it was her fault somehow, even when she suspected that he was sleeping with strippers and escorts on his business trips. She could not let the status go. She could not be alone again. She suffered the quiet insults from him and his ex, both of whom viewed her as a prostitute, though that word would never come to their lips. But, by then, she was trapped, trapped in her mind. Her friends had seemed so happy for her and had told her what a great catch she had made. They would never know how her soul was being slowly eroded by the commitment she agreed to in haste, but she had made it and she told herself she was stuck with it. So she began to pretend, even when she knew for sure that it was not going to be what she’d thought. She pretended until she believed it was something else, something “special,” what she deserved … until he, eventually, took that away from her as well, leaving no doubt that she was a dog to him. But she was too old to run this time, as she had run before, run from the same trap. So she suffered in silence, playing a role she felt was expected by everyone she knew. 

The habits of the privileged, even those who had all but lost theirs, like Kayla, had always been dictated by social concerns and silent mandates. Though she was no one, not special in any objective way, Kayla had once had the opportunity for real love, but the bearer was not acceptable to her ingrained sense of superiority and she had shamed him, sent him away. She saw only men like Hedley as worth her attention, but she had given into them before to disastrous ends … and had not learned a damn thing. Men like Hedley deserved no one’s attention. Based upon their values, they deserved to be relegated to cleaning toilets at fast food joints. But Kayla simply thought that she was too good for anyone “lower,” when she should have asked herself what made her think she was worth anyone at all. She should have asked herself what Hedley was really worth, stripped of his status and wealth, came to understand that only immoral men became what Hedley was. But she never did. The thoughts never occurred to her. Self-reproach was not a thing in that circle. That was the illness ingrained by class, a mirage of superiority with no bases. 

But the sad moral of the tale was this. Kayla WAS too good for Hedley, but life had taught her that she was supposed to defer to men of a certain authority. And it had given Hedley every undeserved advantage, and he had no qualms with exploiting every one of them … or exploiting her. In his mind, the mind of an adult infant obsessed with money, that was why she existed.