THE DISCOVERY
INT. LARRY’S HOUSE – STUDY – NIGHT. The room is dim. A desk lamp glows over scattered bills and legal documents.
Bethany flips through a folder she was never meant to open. Her fingers freeze on a document. A heading. Signatures. Her breath shifts.
One name punches her in the chest. LARRY. Another beneath it. SHARRA.
PROOF
Bethany turns the page. Clauses. Notary stamps. Execution dates.
Her jaw tightens as laughter echoes faintly from another room—Larry, carefree. She closes the folder slowly. Too slowly.
This isn’t confusion. This is betrayal.
THE CONFRONTATION
INT. LARRY’S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS. Larry stands by the couch, phone in hand, mid-text.
LARRY: What’s wrong?
Bethany doesn’t answer. She walks toward him—fast, deliberate.
BETHANY: How long?
DENIAL
LARRY: How long what?
BETHANY: Don’t play dumb with me.
She slams the papers against his chest. They scatter to the floor.
BETHANY: Explain this.
LARRY: That’s not what you think.
THE TRUTH SLIPS
BETHANY: Your signature. Her name. Legal. Real.
LARRY: It’s a misunderstanding.
BETHANY: A misunderstanding doesn’t have three pages and a notary stamp.
Larry hesitates. Just a second too long.
BETHANY: You lied to me.
CONSEQUENCES
BETHANY: You legally tied yourself to her without telling me.
LARRY: It’s done.
That word hits harder than any shout.
BETHANY: You decided for me.
She drops the papers on the table and walks out.
The door slams. Larry stands alone as the papers rest between light and shadow. Proof. Guilt. Consequences. Too late.
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