Plucking the useless smoke from my mouth, I spit out flakes of tobacco. Once I’ve set it the right way around, I close the bath taps and then head back to the kitchen to get my lighter and top up my glass. It’s on the marble counter next to two mostly empty wine bottles and the phone, which I’ve left off the hook. I’m reminded to check the clock to see how much time has passed since I made the call. There are probably about fifteen minutes left, but the pills are making me foggy, so I can’t be sure.

I light the smoke and inhale deeply. My eyes are drawn to the enlarged and framed magazine cover of myself from thirty years ago that hangs prominently in the lounge. It should console me that I once looked like that naked, beautiful girl staring defiantly back at me—a python draped around her neck, covering her breasts—but it doesn’t. She doesn’t feel like a part of me at all, just someone younger and wilder that I used to know.

Tearing my gaze away from her, I distract myself with the view. It’s spectacular. The wraparound glass doors perfectly frame the twinkling lights of Camps Bay to the east, while the infinity pool just in front of the patio creates the illusion that you could swim right out of our home into the ocean.

Well, I say “our home” but really, it’s Vince’s. I should never have signed that damn prenup. Hell, I was the one who suggested it in the first place. Stupid love makes you do stupid things. In my defense, I didn’t need his money when we got married. That’s not what we were about. But I’ve made a few bad decisions since then and I’m not quite as independent as I once was. To be perfectly blunt, this is the worst possible time to lose everything.

Stubbing the cigarette out, I press play on the CD I’d cued up earlier, and then drain what’s left of the Kanonkop Pinotage into my glass. I prop the note to Vince against the empty bottle where he can’t miss it, and head back to the bathroom with a candelabra. Once the candles are lit (musk-scented to add to the drama), there isn’t much left to do except fix myself up as best I can.

I remove the dark smudges and reapply my mascara and signature red Dior lipstick. My final decision is whether I should be naked in the tub or not. Naked would create more of an impact but the old body isn’t what it used to be. I want to remind Vince what he’ll be losing, not send him running for the hills.