I Let Them Think They Won - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
You are reading I Let Them Think They Won, Chapter 11: Chapter 11. Read more chapters of I Let Them Think They Won.
How had she found out? He'd been so careful—meticulous, even. Every secret meeting with Violet, every deleted text, every lie had been perfectly covered. Or so he thought.
Then it hit him like a punch to the gut: Cassie had always been sharp. Too sharp. Maybe it was a slip in his routine, a shift in his tone, or just the faintest trace of another woman's perfume clinging to his shirt.
But none of that mattered now. The damage was done.
Max grabbed his phone, frantically scrolling through contacts, social media, emails—anything that might still tie him to her. But Cassie had vanished. No trace, no trail, no way back. She'd erased herself from his life completely.
His phone clattered onto the couch as he sucked in a ragged breath, fighting the sting in his eyes. He'd destroyed everything—their love, their marriage, their future. And now, the woman he'd taken for granted was gone.
Blind with regret, Max stormed outside—only to freeze mid-step.
There she was. Violet. Leaning against the wall like she owned the place, that infuriating smirk playing on her lips.
"Max," she purred, tilting her head. "Rough day?"
Rage surged through him, white-hot and choking. He opened his mouth to unleash it—until she lazily lifted her phone and tapped the screen.
"Take a look," she said, angling it toward him.
His stomach dropped. Cassie's name flashed across the screen, followed by a thread of messages—restaurant receipts, gift confirmations, every damning detail of his betrayal laid bare. Violet scrolled slowly, savoring his horror.
Max snatched the phone from her, ignoring her yelp of protest. His fingers flew over the screen, scanning the messages—and then it clicked.
She did this.
Violet had fed Cassie every piece of evidence, twisting the knife deeper with each revelation. She'd orchestrated the whole thing.
His hands trembled as he whipped around to face her. "It was you," he spat.
Violet's smirk faltered. "Max, I just—"
"You told her!" he roared, stepping closer. "You enjoyed this, didn't you? Watching her break? Watching her leave?" His voice cracked, raw and broken.
She flinched. "Wait, I didn't mean—"
"Don't!" he snarled. "You're the reason she's gone. The one person I—" His throat closed. He staggered back, chest heaving.
Violet's face twisted in disbelief. "You said you didn't love her! You chose me!"
When she reached for him, he jerked away like her touch burned.
"You ruined everything," he seethed.
Then he hurled the phone at her feet. The screen shattered—just like the illusion she'd built.
Violet stood frozen, stunned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd won. Cassie was gone. Max was hers.
So why was he looking at her like she was the enemy?
What the hell just happened?
Then it hit him like a punch to the gut: Cassie had always been sharp. Too sharp. Maybe it was a slip in his routine, a shift in his tone, or just the faintest trace of another woman's perfume clinging to his shirt.
But none of that mattered now. The damage was done.
Max grabbed his phone, frantically scrolling through contacts, social media, emails—anything that might still tie him to her. But Cassie had vanished. No trace, no trail, no way back. She'd erased herself from his life completely.
His phone clattered onto the couch as he sucked in a ragged breath, fighting the sting in his eyes. He'd destroyed everything—their love, their marriage, their future. And now, the woman he'd taken for granted was gone.
Blind with regret, Max stormed outside—only to freeze mid-step.
There she was. Violet. Leaning against the wall like she owned the place, that infuriating smirk playing on her lips.
"Max," she purred, tilting her head. "Rough day?"
Rage surged through him, white-hot and choking. He opened his mouth to unleash it—until she lazily lifted her phone and tapped the screen.
"Take a look," she said, angling it toward him.
His stomach dropped. Cassie's name flashed across the screen, followed by a thread of messages—restaurant receipts, gift confirmations, every damning detail of his betrayal laid bare. Violet scrolled slowly, savoring his horror.
Max snatched the phone from her, ignoring her yelp of protest. His fingers flew over the screen, scanning the messages—and then it clicked.
She did this.
Violet had fed Cassie every piece of evidence, twisting the knife deeper with each revelation. She'd orchestrated the whole thing.
His hands trembled as he whipped around to face her. "It was you," he spat.
Violet's smirk faltered. "Max, I just—"
"You told her!" he roared, stepping closer. "You enjoyed this, didn't you? Watching her break? Watching her leave?" His voice cracked, raw and broken.
She flinched. "Wait, I didn't mean—"
"Don't!" he snarled. "You're the reason she's gone. The one person I—" His throat closed. He staggered back, chest heaving.
Violet's face twisted in disbelief. "You said you didn't love her! You chose me!"
When she reached for him, he jerked away like her touch burned.
"You ruined everything," he seethed.
Then he hurled the phone at her feet. The screen shattered—just like the illusion she'd built.
Violet stood frozen, stunned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd won. Cassie was gone. Max was hers.
So why was he looking at her like she was the enemy?
What the hell just happened?
End of I Let Them Think They Won Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to I Let Them Think They Won book page.