I Let Them Think They Won - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading I Let Them Think They Won, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of I Let Them Think They Won.
Cassie's POV
I tuned out Violet's chatter, my fingers twisting into the fabric of my sweater as she prattled on. Then her words sliced through my indifference like a knife.
"You and Max have been married for years," she said, feigning innocence. "So... why no baby yet?"
The air left my lungs. My knuckles turned white against the wool. "That's none of your business," I finally managed, my voice razor-sharp.
Violet leaned in, her smile dripping with faux concern. "Come on, Cassie. Everyone wonders. You'd be such a natural mother." Her eyes glittered with calculated cruelty.
"Enough!" I whirled on her so fast she flinched. "You don't get to dig into people's private lives like some gossip columnist." My hands shook—not just from anger, but from the avalanche of pain I was barely containing.
With a mocking snort, Violet sauntered out, leaving the door ajar just long enough for me to see her triumphant smirk.
The second the latch clicked, I crumpled onto the couch like a marionette with cut strings. My face burned against my palms as I fought to breathe through the memory—those two pink lines, Max's clinical detachment when he said he "couldn't handle the distraction." Like our child was an inconvenient scheduling conflict.
I'd swallowed my protests like a good wife. The perfect, understanding spouse. Now the bitterness rose in my throat like bile.
My phone buzzed hours later, shattering the silence. Violet's name flashed—followed by an ultrasound image that filled my screen. A tiny bean-shaped blur with a heartbeat.
My own pulse roared in my ears as I scanned the details. Numbness spread through me first, then came the earthquake—my stomach lurching as another message popped up:
"OMG! Wrong chat! That was for my boyfriend 😅"
My thumb hovered, paralyzed. A mistake? Yeah, right.
The pause lasted just long enough for hope to flicker—maybe she'd drop it. But Violet always doubled down.
"Cat got your tongue? Fine. Truth time: It's Max's baby. Always has been his."
The words blurred. I had to reread them three times before they carved themselves into my heart.
"You were always second-best, Cassie. He only married you because I was overseas. Notice how cold he's been since I came back? All those 'late nights at the office'?"
My vision tunneled. The puzzle pieces slammed together—his absent touches, the gifts that never felt quite right...
"Surprise! I picked all those presents you hated. We've been together for months. And this?" A property deed appeared. "Our dream home. Max is thrilled about the baby—way happier than he ever was with you."
The final blow landed like a sucker punch: "Face it—I'm younger, hotter, more successful, and now I'm carrying his heir. Game over."
My phone clattered to the cushions. The room spun. With trembling fingers, I powered it off, watching the screen die like my marriage just had.
I sat statue-still on the couch, counting the clock's ticks until Max's key turned in the lock.
"You're awake?" He shrugged off his jacket, the familiar scent of his cologne now reeking of betrayal.
"We need to talk." My voice sounded alien—calm, detached.
He stiffened. "What's going on?"
I studied his face—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips parted just before lying. The performance was flawless. My heart cracked open.
"Just wondering... how you'd feel about starting a family."
Max's mask slipped for a microsecond—a flash of panic before the careful neutrality returned. "Why bring this up now?"
The hesitation told me everything. I stood abruptly. "Never mind. It's not important."
"Cassie—"
"I'm exhausted." I was already moving down the hall, my ribs squeezing my lungs with each step. The bedroom door locked behind me just as the first sob tore free.
Alone in the dark, I finally understood—my entire marriage had been a beautifully wrapped lie. And Violet? She'd just handed me the receipt.
I tuned out Violet's chatter, my fingers twisting into the fabric of my sweater as she prattled on. Then her words sliced through my indifference like a knife.
"You and Max have been married for years," she said, feigning innocence. "So... why no baby yet?"
The air left my lungs. My knuckles turned white against the wool. "That's none of your business," I finally managed, my voice razor-sharp.
Violet leaned in, her smile dripping with faux concern. "Come on, Cassie. Everyone wonders. You'd be such a natural mother." Her eyes glittered with calculated cruelty.
"Enough!" I whirled on her so fast she flinched. "You don't get to dig into people's private lives like some gossip columnist." My hands shook—not just from anger, but from the avalanche of pain I was barely containing.
With a mocking snort, Violet sauntered out, leaving the door ajar just long enough for me to see her triumphant smirk.
The second the latch clicked, I crumpled onto the couch like a marionette with cut strings. My face burned against my palms as I fought to breathe through the memory—those two pink lines, Max's clinical detachment when he said he "couldn't handle the distraction." Like our child was an inconvenient scheduling conflict.
I'd swallowed my protests like a good wife. The perfect, understanding spouse. Now the bitterness rose in my throat like bile.
My phone buzzed hours later, shattering the silence. Violet's name flashed—followed by an ultrasound image that filled my screen. A tiny bean-shaped blur with a heartbeat.
My own pulse roared in my ears as I scanned the details. Numbness spread through me first, then came the earthquake—my stomach lurching as another message popped up:
"OMG! Wrong chat! That was for my boyfriend 😅"
My thumb hovered, paralyzed. A mistake? Yeah, right.
The pause lasted just long enough for hope to flicker—maybe she'd drop it. But Violet always doubled down.
"Cat got your tongue? Fine. Truth time: It's Max's baby. Always has been his."
The words blurred. I had to reread them three times before they carved themselves into my heart.
"You were always second-best, Cassie. He only married you because I was overseas. Notice how cold he's been since I came back? All those 'late nights at the office'?"
My vision tunneled. The puzzle pieces slammed together—his absent touches, the gifts that never felt quite right...
"Surprise! I picked all those presents you hated. We've been together for months. And this?" A property deed appeared. "Our dream home. Max is thrilled about the baby—way happier than he ever was with you."
The final blow landed like a sucker punch: "Face it—I'm younger, hotter, more successful, and now I'm carrying his heir. Game over."
My phone clattered to the cushions. The room spun. With trembling fingers, I powered it off, watching the screen die like my marriage just had.
I sat statue-still on the couch, counting the clock's ticks until Max's key turned in the lock.
"You're awake?" He shrugged off his jacket, the familiar scent of his cologne now reeking of betrayal.
"We need to talk." My voice sounded alien—calm, detached.
He stiffened. "What's going on?"
I studied his face—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips parted just before lying. The performance was flawless. My heart cracked open.
"Just wondering... how you'd feel about starting a family."
Max's mask slipped for a microsecond—a flash of panic before the careful neutrality returned. "Why bring this up now?"
The hesitation told me everything. I stood abruptly. "Never mind. It's not important."
"Cassie—"
"I'm exhausted." I was already moving down the hall, my ribs squeezing my lungs with each step. The bedroom door locked behind me just as the first sob tore free.
Alone in the dark, I finally understood—my entire marriage had been a beautifully wrapped lie. And Violet? She'd just handed me the receipt.
End of I Let Them Think They Won Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to I Let Them Think They Won book page.