MARCUS
The golf course is green and perfect and empty of truth.
Marcus swings. The ball goes somewhere. He doesn't care where. Around him, three investors laugh about something. Their wives stand nearby in expensive sunglasses. Nobody is actually enjoying this. They're all performing.
Welcome to his world.
He glances toward the clubhouse where Zoe watches from the terrace with the other girlfriends. She's wearing a white sundress. Her hair is down for once. She looks happy sitting there. Comfortable. Like she belongs.
She doesn't know what he's about to do.
The realization hits him so hard his chest squeezes. He missed another shot. One of the investors pretends not to notice.
