20. Cassie
— ? —
Cassie
We don’t go to whatever surprise Elliot had planned.
Instead, we go home, both of us too unsettled by the news about Charles to think about anything else. The drive is tense and quiet, Elliot’s hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel while I stare out the window and try to process what’s happening.
Charles is telling people I’m going to ruin him.
That I’ve been stealing from his company.
That I’ve been conspiring with Elliot to destroy his business and take everything he has.
It’s all lies, every word of it, but lies have a way of spreading faster than truth.
They’re more interesting, more dramatic, more fun to repeat at dinner parties and in text threads.
By the time I have a chance to defend myself, half the city might already believe I’m some sort of scheming gold-digger who trapped a good man into marriage just to destroy him.
“Stop spiraling,” Elliot says quietly, reading my silence with uncomfortable accuracy.
“I’m not spiraling.”
“You are. I can practically hear you catastrophizing from here. Your breathing changed about five minutes ago and you keep clenching your hands.”
I look down and realize he’s right. My fingernails are digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. I force myself to relax, to breathe, to think clearly instead of panic.
“Whatever Charles is planning, we’ll handle it. Together.” He reaches over and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I’ve been dealing with people who want to destroy me since I was twenty-three years old. Charles Wallace is not the most formidable enemy I’ve ever faced.”
“You keep saying that. That we’ll handle it together.”
“Because it’s true.” He squeezes my fingers. “Charles is desperate. Desperate people make mistakes. They overreach, they get sloppy, they let their emotions override their judgment. He’s going to overplay his hand, and when he does, we’ll be ready to make him regret it.”
“And what do we do in the meantime? Just wait for him to destroy my reputation piece by piece?”
“In the meantime, we live our lives.” He pulls into the driveway and parks, but doesn’t move to get out.
“We don’t let him control us. We don’t let him steal our happiness.
That’s what he wants, Cassie. He wants you to be miserable.
He wants you to spend every moment worrying about what he might do next.
He wants you to feel as small and powerless as he made you feel during your marriage. ”
“How can I not worry? He’s telling people I’m a thief and a conspirator and a gold-digger.”
“People who matter will see through the lies. And people who don’t matter don’t deserve your energy or your tears.
” He turns to face me, his green eyes intense.
“I know it’s hard. I know it feels like everything is falling apart just when it was starting to come together.
But I need you to trust me. We will get through this. You will get through this.”
I take a deep breath, trying to push down the fear and find the anger underneath.
The anger is more useful. The anger reminds me that I’ve already survived Charles’s betrayal, Celine’s smugness, the complete upheaval of my entire life.
I’m stronger than I was a month ago. Stronger than Charles expects me to be. Stronger than I ever knew I could be.
“Okay,” I say. “We live our lives. We don’t let him win.”
“That’s my girl.”
We go inside, and I try to let normalcy reassert itself. Elliot opens a bottle of wine and starts pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator for dinner, moving around the kitchen with easy competence. I sit at the island and watch him, letting the domestic rhythm soothe my frayed nerves.
But my phone keeps buzzing with texts from people I haven’t talked to in months, people who’ve clearly heard something and want to know if it’s true. I ignore most of them, but each notification feels like another nail in the coffin of my reputation.
Hey, Cassie, heard some weird stuff about you and Charles. Everything okay?
Is it true you’re dating some billionaire now? My friend said Charles is telling people you cheated on him.
Girl, what is going on? The rumor mill is going CRAZY about your divorce.
“Stop checking your phone,” Elliot says, watching me from across the kitchen where he’s chopping vegetables with precise, controlled movements. “Every time you look at it, you tense up like you’re expecting bad news.”
“I can’t help it. I need to know what people are saying. I need to know how bad it’s gotten.”
“What people are saying doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do about it.
” He crosses to me and gently takes the phone from my hands, setting it face-down on the counter.
“For the next few hours, you’re going to forget about Charles and his pathetic smear campaign.
You’re going to drink this wine, eat the dinner I’m going to make for you, and remember that you have someone in your corner who will burn the world down before he lets anyone hurt you. ”
“That’s very dramatic.”
“I’m a very dramatic person. It’s part of my charm.” He hands me the wine glass. “Now come with me. I want to show you something.”
He leads me upstairs, past the bedroom, to his home office at the end of the hall.
I’ve been in here a few times, but usually just to drop off papers or ask a quick question.
Now he guides me to the wall of windows that overlooks the city, the same stunning view I’ve admired from a distance but never really appreciated up close.
“Look,” he says.
The city spreads out below us, glittering with a million lights against the darkening sky. From up here, the buildings look like stars fallen to earth, pulsing with life and movement and possibility. It’s beautiful in a way that takes my breath away, even with everything that’s happening.
“I bought this house because of this view,” Elliot says quietly, standing behind me.
“After everything with my family, after building my business from nothing, after spending years feeling like I had to prove myself to everyone who ever doubted me, I wanted somewhere that reminded me how far I’d come.
Somewhere I could stand and see the whole world spread out at my feet and know that I’d earned my place in it. ”
“It’s incredible.”
“It was.” His hands settle on my shoulders, warm and grounding.
“But it was also lonely. I used to stand here alone, looking out at all those lights, all those lives, and feel like I was the only person in the world who didn’t have someone waiting for them at home.
I had everything money could buy and nothing that actually mattered. ”
“And now?”
“Now I have you.” He turns me to face him.
“Now I look at those lights and I think about showing them to you. About sharing this view with someone who matters. Someone who makes me feel like I’m not alone anymore, like all this success actually means something because I have someone to share it with. ”
“Elliot...”
“I know it’s fast. I know we haven’t been together very long.
But I also know how I feel, and I’m done pretending otherwise.
I’m done being careful and cautious and waiting for the right moment.
” His eyes are serious, vulnerable in a way I rarely see.
“I love you, Cassie. And whatever Charles throws at us, whatever lies he spreads, whatever schemes he cooks up, it won’t change that. Nothing will change that.”
I don’t have words for what I’m feeling. So instead, I kiss him.
This kiss is different from the ones before. Slower. Deeper. Less about urgency and more about connection. He responds in kind, his hands cupping my face like I’m something precious, something worth being careful with.
“I want you,” I whisper against his lips. “Right here. Against the windows.”
“Anyone could see.”
“Let them see.” I pull back to look at him. “Let the whole city see what we have. Let Charles hear about it and choke on his own jealousy.”
His eyes darken, and I watch him wage a brief internal battle between propriety and desire. Desire wins decisively.
He kisses me again, hungrier now, his hands working at the buttons of my blouse. I respond in kind, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, running my palms across the planes of his chest. We undress each other deliberately, letting each reveal feel like a gift.
When we’re both bare, he lifts me and carries me to the window. My back presses against the cool glass, the city lights glittering behind me like a tapestry of stars, and he enters me with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes us both groan.
“Look at me,” he commands, and I do. I meet his eyes as he moves inside me, and I see everything he feels reflected back. Love. Desire. A fierce protectiveness that makes me feel cherished and claimed and completely, utterly wanted.
“I love you,” he says, his rhythm steady and deep. “I love you, and I don’t care who knows it. I don’t care what Charles says or does. I don’t care what anyone thinks. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”
“I’m yours,” I agree, feeling the truth of it in my bones. “And you’re mine.”
“Always.”
The orgasm builds slowly this time, a gradual crescendo that peaks just as he tells me he loves me again. We come together, holding each other, the city spread out behind us like a million witnesses to what we’ve found.
Afterward, we stay pressed against the window, neither of us willing to move. His forehead rests against mine, both of us catching our breath.
“That was...”
“Yeah.” He laughs softly. “It was.”
“We should probably move. The glass is cold and I think my back is going to have an imprint of the window frame.”
“Probably.” But he doesn’t let go. “Not yet. I just want to hold you a little longer.”
We stay like that until the window fogs with our breath and my back starts to ache from the cold glass. Then he wraps me in his discarded shirt and carries me to the bedroom, where we make love again, slower this time, savoring each other.
Later, much later, we lie tangled together in the sheets, and I feel almost peaceful. Almost able to forget about Charles and his schemes.
“Cassie,” Elliot says quietly.
“Hmm?”
“Whatever happens next, I want you to remember something.”
“What?”
“You’re not alone anymore. Whatever Charles throws at us, we face it together. And we will win. I promise you that.”
I believe him. Despite everything, despite all the reasons I have to be afraid, I believe him.
“Okay,” I say. “Together.”
He pulls me closer, and I let myself drift toward sleep, feeling safer than I have in weeks.
But the peace doesn’t last.
I’m jolted awake by my phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. The room is dark, the clock reading 2:47 AM in glowing red numbers. Elliot stirs beside me as I reach for the phone, squinting at the too-bright screen.
It’s a message from Jinny: WAKE UP. You need to see this right now.
Charles is on social media live, drunk off his ass, telling everyone that the divorce is going to RUIN you.
He’s saying you stole client lists, that you’ve been planning this for months, that you’re a scheming gold-digger who trapped him into marriage.
It’s getting shared everywhere. The comments are brutal.
I’m so sorry, Cass. Call me when you see this.
Below the text is a link.
I click it with trembling fingers, and Charles’s face fills my screen. He’s clearly intoxicated, his words slurring, his eyes wild and red-rimmed. Behind him, I can see the living room of our old house, the house I used to think of as home.
“...and she thinks she’s going to take everything from me,” he’s saying, his voice dripping with venom and self-pity.
“After everything I did for her. I gave her a career. I gave her a lifestyle. I gave her five years of my life, and I never once complained about how much she took from me. And this is how she repays me. By running off with another man. By conspiring to destroy my business. By trying to RUIN everything I’ve worked for. ”
The comments are flooding in faster than I can read them. Some people expressing sympathy for Charles. Others calling him pathetic. A few asking for proof of his claims. Most just watching the trainwreck with morbid fascination.
“What is it?” Elliot is awake now, sitting up beside me.
I show him the screen without speaking.
He watches for several seconds, his expression darkening with every word Charles says. Then he takes the phone from my hands and sets it aside.
“Don’t watch any more of that,” he says firmly. “It’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to see this, to panic, to make a mistake out of fear.”
“But people are believing him. Look at the comments…”
“Some people. The gullible ones, the ones who want drama, the ones who don’t know you and don’t care about the truth.” He cups my face in his hands. “The people who matter know the truth. And tomorrow, we’re going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”
“How?”
“You don’t need a plan for this.” His jaw is set.
“Charles just made a very big mistake. He went public, drunk and reckless, and now he’s committed to every word of it.
Men like him don’t need to be pushed. Given enough rope, they hang themselves.
We just have to make sure that when you decide to tell your side, the whole city is listening. ”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then you say it louder than he does. Either way, he loses.” Elliot pulls me against his chest. “Try to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
But sleep doesn’t come. I lie awake in Elliot’s arms, staring at the ceiling, listening to Charles’s drunken accusations echoing in my head.
He’s declared war. Publicly, viciously, with no regard for the truth or the consequences.
The question now is: how do I fight back?