It started with a phone call late one afternoon. My husband came home looking pale, his hands trembling as he loosened his tie. I knew something was wrong before he even spoke. He sat down across from me, avoiding my eyes.

“Claire, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice heavy with shame. “My boss…he called me into his office today.”

I listened as he explained, my heart sinking with every word. His boss, a man we’d met at company events, someone who’d seemed professional and respectful, had given him an ultimatum: his job or one night with me. I stared at my husband in disbelief, my stomach twisting into knots.

“How could he even say something like that?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” my husband said, his head in his hands. “But if I lose this job…Claire, we’ll lose everything. The house, the car—everything.”

We spent the night talking, our words bouncing between anger, fear, and desperation. We had bills piling up, two kids to feed, and no backup plan. My husband kept apologizing, tears streaming down his face, but I knew we were out of options.

The next evening, I found myself standing in front of a luxurious hotel, my heart pounding in my chest. My husband had begged me not to go, but I couldn’t let him lose his job—not when so much was at stake.

Inside, his boss greeted me with a smug smile, as though he’d already won. I forced myself to stay calm, reminding myself this wasn’t about him—it was about us. About keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table.

As I walked into that room, I told myself it was just one night. One sacrifice to secure our future. But deep down, I knew the memory of this night would linger far longer than the job we were fighting to save.