I Let Them Think They Won - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Book: I Let Them Think They Won Chapter 4 2025-11-03

You are reading I Let Them Think They Won, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of I Let Them Think They Won.

Max's arms suddenly wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I love you so damn much, Cassie," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "You have no idea how deep this goes. Even when you pushed me away, when you didn't trust me... I just—" His voice cracked with unexpected vulnerability. "I only fell harder."
My body tensed in his arms, but I kept silent.
When Max pulled back, he reached for a small fabric handkerchief on the table, his face lighting up like he'd found treasure. "This," he said, cradling it gently, "is the most precious thing you ever gave me."
"A gift?" I frowned at the unfamiliar cloth.
His laugh was warm with nostalgia. "Not exactly. I took this from you when we first met." His expression softened with memory. "Remember? That time I wiped out on my bike? You patched me up with this without saying a word—just this intense look of concern for some reckless stranger."
I pressed my lips together as a dangerous thought flickered through my mind: Could someone who cherished these memories—who loved me this deeply—really betray me?
Then that scent hit me again. Cloying. Foreign. Definitely not mine.
"Max," I said sharply, locking eyes with him. "Why do you smell... off?"
He froze. The transformation was instant—his smile shattered like glass. "What?" His voice pitched higher. "What smell?"
"Something that isn't you." My gaze turned steely.
Max's nervous laugh sounded like cracking ice as he jumped up from the couch. "Oh! Right—long day of meetings. Probably just... city grime." He raked a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. "I'll shower. Be right back."
He bolted, leaving the door ajar.
I barely had time to process when the front door clicked open. Footsteps.
"That wasn't Max," I muttered, moving toward the hallway.
Then I saw her.
"Violet?" My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. She knew our passcode?
"Cassie!" She beamed like we were sorority sisters, flipping her salon-perfect hair. "You're awake! Just dropping by for some urgent... work stuff." She held up a takeout bag from that Italian place—the one where Max proposed. The one he'd mysteriously skipped this anniversary.
My ribs constricted.
"You brought him dinner," I said through gritted teeth.
Violet's saccharine smile widened. "Poor thing hasn't eaten all day. Someone's got to take care of him."
I barked a humorless laugh. "And our passcode?"
"Emergency access," she chirped, setting the food down. Then with calculated casualness, she spun. "Do you like my dress? Max picked it for my birthday." Her fingers drifted to a gold necklace—one I knew intimately.
The "Secret Love" pendant.
The one I'd refused because I wouldn't accept hidden affection. He'd promised something better.
Now it dangled around her neck.
A year ago, this would've destroyed me. Now? I just felt... hollow.
Violet preened, stroking the pendant. "Isn't he thoughtful?"
I let out a dark chuckle.
"Something funny?" Her smile faltered.
"Poetic," I corrected coldly.
Max's voice cut through the tension. "Cassie?"
I found him buttoning his shirt, his tone artificially light. "Noticed some gifts are missing—the Rolex, those diamond earrings?"
"Donating them," I said flatly.
His megawatt smile—the one that used to give me butterflies—now made my skin crawl. "That's my girl. Always so generous."
Oh, I was being generous alright. Donating every overpriced trinket... including the man himself. Charity begins at home, and Violet clearly needed him more.
"Violet's here," I announced.
His pupils dilated before he practically sprinted to the living room. Violet stood there oozing fake sweetness.
"Max," she cooed.
"We should head back to the office," he blurted, eyes darting between us.
As Violet smirked at me over her shoulder, Max rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Don't wait up—big project tonight."
"Of course," I said sweetly. The moment the door closed, my pleasant mask shattered.
I yanked open the living room drawer, pulling out my tablet. With a few taps, surveillance feeds bloomed across the screen—bedroom, car, office—everywhere I'd planted cameras.
Because here's the truth: I'd known for months.
My laugh was bitter as live footage loaded. The game was over. I just hadn't decided how hard I'd make them lose.

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