Chapter Four
The Clue
Cassie wasn’t looking for the receipt. She had dropped her compact between the cushions of Damien’s car and reached down to retrieve it.
Her fingers brushed across leather, coins, a stray keycard, and finally, a glossy slip of paper folded into quarters.
Her name wasn’t on it. But the name of the jeweler stopped her cold.
Raffinée.
She unfolded the receipt slowly, eyes scanning the elegant typeface.
One diamond bracelet. $12,800.
Purchased: Three days ago. Customer: Damien Sterling. Pickup: In-store. Signature required: K. King.
Cassie blinked. She sat there, the paper trembling slightly between her fingers. He lied. Not just about forgetting. Not just about what the gift was. He had bought something. He had given it to someone.
And it wasn’t her.
Her mind immediately jumped to Kelly. K. King. There could be other K. King in the city. But none with access to Damien’s life like her sister.
The air inside the car felt stifling, like the leather seats were swallowing her whole. She folded the receipt and tucked it into her clutch.
Cassie didn’t cry. She started the car and drove to Harper’s brownstone.
Harper Linwood opened the door in silk pajama bottoms and a loose crop tee that read “Emotionally Unavailable.”
Cassie didn’t wait for an invitation. She walked straight into the living room and tossed the receipt onto the glass coffee table.
Harper glanced at it, then up at Cassie. “Do I need wine for this?”
“Yes.”
Harper disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses and an open bottle of Pinot Noir. She poured generously and handed one over before picking up the paper.
Reading it took seconds. Processing it took longer.
“Oh hell,” Harper muttered. “That lying son of a—”
“I know.”
“K. King?” Harper looked up. “Kelly?”
Cassie sank into the couch, gripping the wine glass but not drinking. “I think so. It makes sense.”
Harper’s voice was laced with fury. “She wouldn’t. Not with Damien. Not after—”
Cassie interrupted quietly, “She would.”
Harper leaned forward. “Cass, I thought you two were... fine again. I mean, you still talk. She was at the hotel opening last month. She brought that investment broker guy—”
“—to flirt with Damien.”
Harper froze. “Wait, you noticed that too?”
Cassie nodded. “And he didn’t even flinch.”
A long silence stretched between them.
“I need Delia to confirm it was Kelly,” Cassie said finally. “I need proof. Not just a guess.”
Harper took a deep breath. “You really think he’s sleeping with her?”
Cassie stared into her wine. “I think he never stopped.”
Delia was waiting for her the next morning in the corner booth of their usual café, low profile, tucked inside a bookstore. She slid a manila folder across the table. “I pulled his charge history again. Here’s the purchase. It wasn’t sent anywhere. It was signed for in person. And I found this.”
She unfolded a printout of a security cam photo, grainy but unmistakable. Kelly. Long blonde hair. Oversized sunglasses. Holding a Raffinée shopping bag and grinning.
Cassie’s stomach turned.
“She left from there and went to the Fifth Avenue spa,” Delia added. “One of Damien’s drivers picked her up. Same day.”
Cassie pressed her fingers to her temple. “He told me he had meetings. Said he was tied up with investors.”
Delia’s voice was gentle. “You okay?”
“No.”
“What do you want to do?”
Cassie closed her eyes. “I want to play the part. Just a little longer. Let them think I’m still clueless.”
She opened her eyes and looked directly at Delia. “And I want you to find out everything.”
Delia nodded. “Everything?”
“Dates. Times. Hotel rooms. Messages. I want a timeline that’s bulletproof. I want a story that doesn’t leave room for denial.”
Delia exhaled, as if bracing herself. “All right. You’ll have it.”
That evening, Cassie returned to the penthouse and made dinner. Damien walked in late, tossed his blazer on the arm of the couch, and kissed her cheek. “Sorry I missed lunch. Meeting ran long.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
He paused, looked at her. “You’re... being really patient with me lately.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s just... things have been a little off. I’ve been distracted. Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Cassie handed him a glass of wine. “I know.”
They sat. Ate. Talked about nothing. Laughed at a memory from their honeymoon. He complimented her pasta. She asked him about his project in Italy. He gave a vague answer and changed the subject.
And when he fell asleep beside her, Cassie lay awake. The bracelet wasn’t the betrayal. It was the proof and proof was power.