Page 9 of Vows of Deceit
“You don’t love her like you love me.”
Silence stretched.
Then, a whisper.
“No. I don’t.”
Kelly kissed him. Slow. Deep. Hungry. He didn’t pull away. He dropped the glass instead, and it shattered against the floor.
Cassie couldn’t breathe.
On screen, Damien spun Kelly around and lifted her onto the edge of the hotel table. Her white dress hitched up, her head tilted back as he kissed down her throat.
“I always wanted you,” he growled. “You knew that.”
“You’re drunk,” she purred.
“You came anyway.”
“I always come when it counts.”
The moan that followed snapped something inside Cassie’s chest. Their bodies tangled, urgent and shameless. He stripped her dress down in one hard pull. Her fingers clawed at his belt. His mouth was on her collarbone, her breasts, then lower. Their sounds filled the room, a symphony of betrayal recorded in high definition.
When they fell together on the hotel bed, the video tilted, catching only the rhythm of movement and the raw groans that accompanied it. Kelly’s laughter. Damien’s growls.
Cassie watched every second.
Every.
Single.
Second.
Until the screen went black.
She sat in silence for a long time after. The only sound in the penthouse was the distant hum of the city below and the dull roar of blood rushing through her ears. Her hands were shaking, but her face remained expressionless. She didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. She simply stood, walked to the bar, and poured herself a glass of whisky.
Her wedding had been beautiful. Dreamlike. A rooftop ceremony beneath a canopy of orchids. Her father walked her down the aisle, her mother teared up. Damien had smiled at her like she was his salvation.
All lies.
All lies dressed in white and sealed with a kiss still tainted by Kelly’s lipstick. Cassie sipped the whisky, letting it burn all the way down. Then she reached for her phone. She texted Delia “Start compiling everything. Every timeline. Every lie.” And then Harper “You were right. It was her. The night before the wedding.” A second later, “I need you. Now.”
Her hands were steady as she placed the old phone back into the drawer. She would keep the video. Not to confront them. But when the time came, they wouldn’t be able to deny it. Her husband. Her sister. Her whole life built on a rotting foundation. Cassie King Sterling had been the perfect wife. Now she would become the perfect storm.
Chapter Seven
No Confrontation
Cassie didn’t scream. She didn’t throw his things into the hallway or key his car or shatter every wine glass in the penthouse though she fantasized about doing all of that and more. She didn’t wake Damien up that night or the next morning with accusations or questions or tears.
Instead, she brewed his coffee. Kissed his cheek. Watched him pull on a crisp navy suit and complimented the color against his eyes. She saw the guilt in them, still there like a dark undertow but he smiled at her, grateful for her grace, never suspecting that she knew. He left for the office and Cassie began to prepare.
Delia arrived within the hour, holding her laptop, her planner, and a hard drive. Cassie shut the penthouse door behind her and locked it.
Delia’s expression was tight. “You sure you want to see all of it?”
Cassie nodded. “Every second.”
