I Let Them Think They Won - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading I Let Them Think They Won, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of I Let Them Think They Won.
Max slumped against the car door, massaging his temples. He'd just texted Cassie that work would keep him away all day. The message sat on read, but he hadn't thought much of it.
The past few days had drained him dry. Violet had become increasingly demanding—clingy, needy, like a shadow he couldn't shake. Her constant chatter, the endless reassurance she craved—it was smothering him.
Earlier, he'd snapped, promising Violet they'd have lunch later just to buy himself a few hours of freedom. It worked, for now. But he knew Violet's patience had an expiration date. She never let him out of her sight for long.
The way she acted like she owned every piece of him—it was exhausting.
With a heavy sigh, Max caught his reflection in the car window. Wrinkled shirt. Dark circles. The stress was written all over his face. Not wanting to tip Cassie off, he grabbed fresh clothes from the backseat—he always kept spares there—and changed quickly before heading inside.
The plan was simple: check in with Cassie, reassure her, then slip away again.
But the moment he stepped through the front door, the air felt... off.
Silence.
Too much silence.
"Cassie?" His voice bounced off the walls as the door clicked shut behind him.
Nothing.
Frowning, he moved deeper into the house. Everything looked the same, yet completely different. The living room—usually cluttered with her sketchbooks, fresh flowers, that ratty throw blanket she loved—stood barren.
"Cassie?" Louder this time.
He took the stairs two at a time, shoving their bedroom door open—
Empty hangers swayed in the wardrobe. The vanity, stripped clean.
His pulse spiked as his gaze darted around. That's when he noticed the missing photos. Their wedding album. The portraits she'd painted. The love letters she'd treasured. All gone.
"Cassie!" Nearly shouting now.
A hesitant voice from the doorway: "Sir?"
Max whirled. One of the servants stood there, shifting nervously.
"Where's Cassie?"
The servant blinked. "You... didn't know? Madam left on a trip. Said it would be a long one."
"What trip?" Panic edged his words.
"She didn't say, sir. Only that you should check the gift she left for you."
The gift. Right—Cassie had mentioned something on the phone. Max stood frozen, hands on hips. Cassie never went anywhere without telling him. This wasn't right.
"It's in your study, sir."
Max bolted. His hands trembled as he tore open the gift box from their party. Inside: a single envelope.
Divorce papers.
The world tilted. His grip tightened on the papers as he saw her signature—final, decisive.
"No." The word barely escaped.
He dropped the papers and charged back to their room, ripping open drawers, flinging closet doors wide. Nothing. No trace of her.
"NO! Cassie!" His voice cracked as he clutched the papers, wild-eyed.
Every belonging. Every keepsake. Gone.
She was gone.
Max stood in the hollowed-out shell of their bedroom, the truth crashing over him. She'd really left.
The house felt dead without her.
Because she'd taken all the life with her.
The past few days had drained him dry. Violet had become increasingly demanding—clingy, needy, like a shadow he couldn't shake. Her constant chatter, the endless reassurance she craved—it was smothering him.
Earlier, he'd snapped, promising Violet they'd have lunch later just to buy himself a few hours of freedom. It worked, for now. But he knew Violet's patience had an expiration date. She never let him out of her sight for long.
The way she acted like she owned every piece of him—it was exhausting.
With a heavy sigh, Max caught his reflection in the car window. Wrinkled shirt. Dark circles. The stress was written all over his face. Not wanting to tip Cassie off, he grabbed fresh clothes from the backseat—he always kept spares there—and changed quickly before heading inside.
The plan was simple: check in with Cassie, reassure her, then slip away again.
But the moment he stepped through the front door, the air felt... off.
Silence.
Too much silence.
"Cassie?" His voice bounced off the walls as the door clicked shut behind him.
Nothing.
Frowning, he moved deeper into the house. Everything looked the same, yet completely different. The living room—usually cluttered with her sketchbooks, fresh flowers, that ratty throw blanket she loved—stood barren.
"Cassie?" Louder this time.
He took the stairs two at a time, shoving their bedroom door open—
Empty hangers swayed in the wardrobe. The vanity, stripped clean.
His pulse spiked as his gaze darted around. That's when he noticed the missing photos. Their wedding album. The portraits she'd painted. The love letters she'd treasured. All gone.
"Cassie!" Nearly shouting now.
A hesitant voice from the doorway: "Sir?"
Max whirled. One of the servants stood there, shifting nervously.
"Where's Cassie?"
The servant blinked. "You... didn't know? Madam left on a trip. Said it would be a long one."
"What trip?" Panic edged his words.
"She didn't say, sir. Only that you should check the gift she left for you."
The gift. Right—Cassie had mentioned something on the phone. Max stood frozen, hands on hips. Cassie never went anywhere without telling him. This wasn't right.
"It's in your study, sir."
Max bolted. His hands trembled as he tore open the gift box from their party. Inside: a single envelope.
Divorce papers.
The world tilted. His grip tightened on the papers as he saw her signature—final, decisive.
"No." The word barely escaped.
He dropped the papers and charged back to their room, ripping open drawers, flinging closet doors wide. Nothing. No trace of her.
"NO! Cassie!" His voice cracked as he clutched the papers, wild-eyed.
Every belonging. Every keepsake. Gone.
She was gone.
Max stood in the hollowed-out shell of their bedroom, the truth crashing over him. She'd really left.
The house felt dead without her.
Because she'd taken all the life with her.
End of I Let Them Think They Won Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to I Let Them Think They Won book page.