10. Cassie
— ? —
Cassie
Elliot’s house isn’t a house, it’s a fortress.
We pull through iron gates that slide open like they’ve been waiting for us, past manicured hedges and security cameras that track our movement up the long driveway.
The building itself is all sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling windows, modern architecture that belongs in a magazine spread about people who have more money than sense.
“This is where you live?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
“This is where I sleep.” Elliot pulls the car into an underground garage bigger than Charles’s entire office floor. “Living implies I spend time here. Mostly I just work.”
“That’s sad.”
He glances at me, a flicker in those green eyes. “Is it?”
“A house this big and you just use it as a bedroom? Yeah. That’s sad.”
“Maybe you can help me fix that.” He kills the engine but doesn’t move to get out. In the dim light of the garage, his features are all shadows and sharp edges. “Cassie. Before we go in, there’s something you should know.”
My stomach tightens. “What?”
“Celine is here.”
The name lands like a punch. “What do you mean she’s here? I thought you were going to divorce her. You said.”
“I am. But she doesn’t know that yet.” His jaw tightens. “She thinks I’m coming home from a business trip. She has no idea what happened today, no idea that you’re with me. When we walk through that door, she’s going to lose her mind.”
“Good.” The word comes out sharper than I expected, edged with fury I didn’t know I was still carrying. “Let her lose her mind. Let her feel a fraction of what she made me feel.”
Elliot studies me. Then, slowly, he smiles. It’s not a nice smile. It’s the smile of a predator who’s found a worthy hunting partner.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
We get out of the car. He grabs my suitcase before I can reach for it, and when I try to protest, he just gives me a look that shuts me up. Fine. Let him carry it. I’m too tired to argue about luggage.
The elevator from the garage opens directly into the main living area, and the first thing I see is white.
White marble floors, white furniture, white walls with strategically placed art that probably cost more than my yearly salary.
It’s beautiful in a cold way, designed to be looked at rather than lived in.
And there, curled up on a white leather sofa with a glass of wine in her hand, is Celine.
She looks up when the elevator opens, her face already arranging itself into a welcoming smile. Then she sees me, and the smile freezes, cracks, shatters into something ugly and afraid.
“What the fuck?”
It’s almost funny, hearing my own words from this afternoon thrown back at me. Almost.
“Hello, Celine.” Elliot’s voice is ice. “I believe you know my guest.”
Celine scrambles to her feet, wine sloshing over the rim of her glass, staining the white carpet red. She doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes are locked on me with an intensity that borders on manic.
“What is she doing here?” Her voice is high, shrill, nothing like the polished purr I remember from the office. “Elliot, why is she here? What’s going on?”
“I think you know exactly what’s going on.” Elliot sets down my suitcase. Crosses his arms. “I got an interesting visit today. At my office. From Mrs. Wallace here.”
“I don’t know what she told you, but she’s lying.” Celine’s eyes dart between us, desperate, calculating. “She’s crazy, Elliot. Everyone knows she’s been having some kind of breakdown. Charles told me all about it, how paranoid she’s been, how she imagines things.”
“She showed me the texts.”
Celine goes white.
“She showed me the photos.” Elliot’s voice doesn’t change, doesn’t rise, but that makes it worse. “The ones you sent to her husband. The ones where you call him pet names and tell him you can’t wait to feel him inside you.”
“That’s not, you can’t prove those are from me.”
“The cream lace bra.” I step forward, and Celine flinches back like I might hit her. Part of me wants to. “The one you wore your first day at the office. The birthmark on your hip. The way you pose with your hand on your thigh.” I tilt my head. “Should I keep going?”
“You bitch.” The mask slips completely, and underneath is pure venom. “You absolute bitch. You think you can just walk into my house and…”
“Your house?” Elliot laughs, and the sound is cold enough to freeze the wine in her glass.
“This is my house, Celine. Everything in it is mine. The cars, the art, the furniture, the clothes on your back. You came into this marriage with nothing, and thanks to that prenup you were so eager to sign, you’re going to leave with nothing. ”
“You can’t, the prenup was.”
“Very clear about what happens if you cheat.” Elliot pulls out his phone, taps the screen, holds it up so she can see. “I have everything. Every text, every photo, every timestamp that proves you’ve been fucking Charles Wallace for months. My lawyers are already drawing up the paperwork.”
Celine’s face crumbles, and for a moment, just a moment, she looks like the girl I felt sorry for all those months ago. Young and scared and in over her head.
Then her expression hardens into a look I recognize. Something calculating.
“Fine.” She straightens her spine. Lifts her chin. “Fine, divorce me. See if I care. Charles loves me. He’s going to leave his wife for me, and we’re going to be together, and you can both go fuck yourselves.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“Charles loves you?” I shake my head. “Sweetheart, Charles doesn’t love anyone but himself. You were convenient. You were easy. And the second things get hard, the second there’s real consequence to what he’s done, he’s going to throw you under the bus so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
“I was married to him for five years.” I step closer.
“I know exactly what he is. A weak, selfish, pathetic man who can’t handle anything that doesn’t go his way.
And right now, his wife just caught him cheating, announced it to the entire office, and walked out with all the evidence.
Trust me, he’s not thinking about you. He’s thinking about himself. ”
Celine’s lower lip trembles. I watch her process my words, watch the doubt creep into her eyes. She doesn’t want to believe me. But some part of her knows I’m right.
“Get out.” Elliot’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Pack a bag. Call your parents. I don’t care where you go, but you’re not staying here tonight.”
“You can’t just kick me out! This is my home!”
“This is my home.” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. “And you are no longer welcome in it.”
“I’ll call the police. I’ll tell them you’re abusing me or something, I’ll…”
“Go ahead.” Elliot shrugs. “And while they’re here, I’ll show them the evidence of your affair with a married man. I’ll tell them about the prenup you signed. I’ll explain exactly why you’re being asked to leave.” He pauses. “Or you can go quietly, with whatever dignity you have left.”
Celine looks at me. Then at Elliot. Then back at me. I can see her mind working, calculating her options, trying to find an angle that might save her.
“This isn’t over,” she hisses. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. Charles and I have something real. Something you never had with him. And when this all blows over.”
“Celine.” I smile, and I make sure it’s sharp enough to cut.
“I have screenshots of every text you sent my husband. Every nude photo. Every dirty little message. And I’ve backed them up in three different places.
” I pause, letting that sink in. “So unless you want everyone you know to see exactly what you look like on your knees, I suggest you shut your mouth and do what Elliot says.”
Her face goes purple with rage. For a second, I think she’s going to lunge at me.
Then her expression shifts. Her eyes narrow, her mouth curving into a cruel smile.
“Fine. You want me gone? I’ll go.” She grabs her purse off the couch, starts toward the elevator.
Then she stops, turns back, looks directly at me.
“But I’m curious about one thing. Where exactly are you planning to stay tonight, Cassie?
Because if you’re moving in with my husband, that’s a pretty interesting development. ”
I don’t know what possesses me. The words come out before I can think them through, rising from somewhere deep and reckless.
“Actually, we decided to date.” I hear myself say it and can’t quite believe it. “I mean, I figured since you’re banging my soon-to-be ex-husband, I should get to bang yours, right?”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Celine’s mouth falls open. Her eyes bulge. She looks like someone just slapped her across the face with a dead fish.
And then Elliot moves.
He’s beside me in two steps, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me against his side. The warmth of his body seeps through my dress, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral, to not show how much his touch affects me.
“She’s right.” His voice is calm, almost bored, but there’s a darkness underneath it. “Cassie’s going to be staying here from now on. I’d suggest you get used to the idea.”
“You’re lying.” Celine’s voice is barely a whisper. “This is some kind of sick joke. You wouldn’t actually.”
Elliot tips my chin up with one finger.
I have about half a second to register what’s happening before his mouth is on mine.
The kiss starts soft. Exploratory. His lips brush against mine once, twice, a question more than a statement. I should pull away. I should remember that this is fake, that we’re putting on a show, that none of this is real.
Instead, I lean into him.