I Let Them Think They Won - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading I Let Them Think They Won, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of I Let Them Think They Won.
Cassie's POV
My phone vibrated against the table, and my pulse spiked when Max's name lit up the screen. Weeks had passed since that night in his study, yet every call from him still sent an electric jolt of dread through my body.
I let it ring twice before answering. "Hello."
"Cassie, darling." Max's voice oozed that familiar honeyed charm. "I've got a surprise for you tonight. Our anniversary, remember? I've planned a little celebration. The car will be ready at eight."
"Hmm." The noncommittal sound slipped out before I could stop it. I hung up without another word.
The man across from me cleared his throat. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Mrs. Cornell?" My lawyer's pen hovered above the dotted line like a poised dagger.
I was about to answer when my phone buzzed again. A notification. My fingers twitched toward it against my better judgment.
Violet's Instagram post loaded in agonizing slow motion. There they were - Max and his mistress, cozied up at some fancy bistro, a bouquet of white roses between them. The same damn flowers he used to bring home to me.
I exhaled sharply, my ribs suddenly too tight.
"Mrs. Cornell?" My lawyer's voice snapped me back.
I flipped the phone facedown with a sharp click of nails on mahogany. My lips curved into something that might have passed for a smile if you weren't looking at my eyes.
"Let's do it," I said, voice steady as I shoved the papers forward. "File them immediately."
The lawyer gave me that careful, practiced nod. "I'll expedite the process."
The Cassie who'd clung to hope, who'd made excuses, who'd believed in second chances? She was gone. In her place stood a woman who refused to be played for a fool.
The limo purred to a stop outside our - no, his - sprawling estate. Through the tinted windows, golden light spilled from every window, laughter and jazz floating through the night air.
I took one steadying breath before stepping out. The party was in full swing - all our so-called friends swirling champagne flutes while Max held court. His face lit up when he saw me, crossing the room in three long strides to pull me into an embrace that made my skin crawl.
"There's my beautiful wife," he murmured against my hair, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Aww, you two!" Sarah from the club cooed. "Still disgustingly in love after all these years!"
"Seriously," Mark chimed in, "what's your secret? Couples therapy? Drugs?"
The laughter washed over me like acid rain. Clingy? Oh, we'd been that all right. Back when Max would text me good morning kisses and surprise me with weekend getaways. Before Violet came slithering back into his life.
My mind flashed to the anonymous photos that had arrived last month - Max and Violet tangled in hotel sheets, her manicured fingers in his hair, both of them grinning like they'd won the lottery. That's when the last fragile thread of denial had snapped.
Max steered me toward a quiet corner, his hand burning through the silk at my waist. "For you," he said, producing a velvet box with a magician's flourish. "To make up for... everything."
I lifted the lid. A diamond necklace winked up at me - the kind of overpriced apology that used to make my heart flutter. Now it just looked like hush money.
"It's stunning," I lied, tracing one cold stone.
He leaned in, whiskey breath hot on my cheek. "I know I've been distracted, but you're still my everything, Cass."
Wordlessly, I reached into my clutch and produced my own gift - a satin-wrapped box.
Max's eyebrows shot up. "For me? Let me guess - those limited edition Jordans? That Patek Philippe I've been eyeing?"
"Patience," I purred, pressing it into his hands. "Wait exactly one week. You'll thank me."
He gave me that boyish grin that used to melt me. "My mysterious wife." With a quick kiss to my temple, he was off to schmooze his investors.
I watched him work the room - the perfect doting husband. Oh, he'd love my gift all right. The divorce papers were tucked inside that pretty box, notarized and ready. Now he and Violet could stop pretending.
I was turning to leave when a familiar voice cut through the chatter:
"Please, that necklace is basic," Violet was sneering to her circle. "My man got me something way more exclusive last week."
The irony almost made me laugh. Her "man" had just given me diamonds while she got... what? A cheap hotel room and empty promises? Some prize she'd won.
My phone vibrated against the table, and my pulse spiked when Max's name lit up the screen. Weeks had passed since that night in his study, yet every call from him still sent an electric jolt of dread through my body.
I let it ring twice before answering. "Hello."
"Cassie, darling." Max's voice oozed that familiar honeyed charm. "I've got a surprise for you tonight. Our anniversary, remember? I've planned a little celebration. The car will be ready at eight."
"Hmm." The noncommittal sound slipped out before I could stop it. I hung up without another word.
The man across from me cleared his throat. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Mrs. Cornell?" My lawyer's pen hovered above the dotted line like a poised dagger.
I was about to answer when my phone buzzed again. A notification. My fingers twitched toward it against my better judgment.
Violet's Instagram post loaded in agonizing slow motion. There they were - Max and his mistress, cozied up at some fancy bistro, a bouquet of white roses between them. The same damn flowers he used to bring home to me.
I exhaled sharply, my ribs suddenly too tight.
"Mrs. Cornell?" My lawyer's voice snapped me back.
I flipped the phone facedown with a sharp click of nails on mahogany. My lips curved into something that might have passed for a smile if you weren't looking at my eyes.
"Let's do it," I said, voice steady as I shoved the papers forward. "File them immediately."
The lawyer gave me that careful, practiced nod. "I'll expedite the process."
The Cassie who'd clung to hope, who'd made excuses, who'd believed in second chances? She was gone. In her place stood a woman who refused to be played for a fool.
The limo purred to a stop outside our - no, his - sprawling estate. Through the tinted windows, golden light spilled from every window, laughter and jazz floating through the night air.
I took one steadying breath before stepping out. The party was in full swing - all our so-called friends swirling champagne flutes while Max held court. His face lit up when he saw me, crossing the room in three long strides to pull me into an embrace that made my skin crawl.
"There's my beautiful wife," he murmured against my hair, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Aww, you two!" Sarah from the club cooed. "Still disgustingly in love after all these years!"
"Seriously," Mark chimed in, "what's your secret? Couples therapy? Drugs?"
The laughter washed over me like acid rain. Clingy? Oh, we'd been that all right. Back when Max would text me good morning kisses and surprise me with weekend getaways. Before Violet came slithering back into his life.
My mind flashed to the anonymous photos that had arrived last month - Max and Violet tangled in hotel sheets, her manicured fingers in his hair, both of them grinning like they'd won the lottery. That's when the last fragile thread of denial had snapped.
Max steered me toward a quiet corner, his hand burning through the silk at my waist. "For you," he said, producing a velvet box with a magician's flourish. "To make up for... everything."
I lifted the lid. A diamond necklace winked up at me - the kind of overpriced apology that used to make my heart flutter. Now it just looked like hush money.
"It's stunning," I lied, tracing one cold stone.
He leaned in, whiskey breath hot on my cheek. "I know I've been distracted, but you're still my everything, Cass."
Wordlessly, I reached into my clutch and produced my own gift - a satin-wrapped box.
Max's eyebrows shot up. "For me? Let me guess - those limited edition Jordans? That Patek Philippe I've been eyeing?"
"Patience," I purred, pressing it into his hands. "Wait exactly one week. You'll thank me."
He gave me that boyish grin that used to melt me. "My mysterious wife." With a quick kiss to my temple, he was off to schmooze his investors.
I watched him work the room - the perfect doting husband. Oh, he'd love my gift all right. The divorce papers were tucked inside that pretty box, notarized and ready. Now he and Violet could stop pretending.
I was turning to leave when a familiar voice cut through the chatter:
"Please, that necklace is basic," Violet was sneering to her circle. "My man got me something way more exclusive last week."
The irony almost made me laugh. Her "man" had just given me diamonds while she got... what? A cheap hotel room and empty promises? Some prize she'd won.
End of I Let Them Think They Won Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to I Let Them Think They Won book page.