Defying The Odds: His True Wife

Cassidy opened her eyes in the dim light of the master bedroom. Her body ached. A deep, heavy soreness settled in her thighs and lower back from the intense physical demand of what had just happened between them. She reached out with a trembling hand, trying to pull the silk sheet up over her exposed shoulder.

The man beside her moved. Cristian shifted his weight, his long, heavy arm instinctively wrapping around her waist. He pulled her flush against his warm, bare chest. His grip was absolute. It was a possessive, subconscious action that left no room for negotiation.

Cassidy stopped breathing. She froze, terrified that any sudden movement would wake him. She lay perfectly still, greedily soaking in the heat radiating from his skin. This was the man she had loved in secret for ten years. This physical closeness was the only real thing she had, even if she believed it was just a transaction for him.

A harsh vibration shattered the quiet. The cell phone on the nightstand buzzed violently against the wood.

Cristian frowned in his sleep. A low, annoyed groan vibrated in his throat. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

Cassidy felt her heart slam against her ribs. She panicked. She did not want him to wake up and end this moment. She quickly reached out, her arm covered in faint red marks from his mouth, and snatched the phone off the table.

The screen lit up. The caller ID showed Joy Mcfadden. Cassidy frowned. Joy never called this late unless it was an emergency.

She carefully pried Cristian's heavy arm off her waist. She slid out of the bed, her bare feet hitting the thick, cold wool rug. She walked as fast as she could toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the massive room.

She pressed the answer button and held the phone to her ear. She kept her voice to a bare whisper. "Joy, what is it? It is two in the morning."

Joy's voice came through loud and frantic. The background noise was filled with the wail of New York City police sirens and heavy bass. "Cassidy, listen to me. I am at a club in SoHo. I just saw someone."

Cassidy gripped the phone tighter. Her knuckles turned white. She bit down hard on her lower lip, waiting for the name. A cold dread started to pool in her stomach.

"It is Hayden Blevins," Joy said, her voice dripping with anger. "She is back from Europe. Her divorce is final."

Cassidy felt like a basin of ice water had been dumped over her head. The chill seeped into her scalp and rushed down her spine. Her fingers went completely numb.

"The whole circle is already talking about it," Joy warned, not giving her a second to process. "Everyone knows she came back for Cristian. You need to watch your husband, Cass. Do not let that woman find a way back in."

Cassidy forced her throat to open. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "I know. Thank you for telling me." She tried to hide the raw panic choking her words.

"Do not just say you know. Fight for your place," Joy snapped, frustrated by her passive tone. The line went dead.

The phone screen went black. Cassidy stood by the window, letting the moonlight wash over her. She looked at her own reflection in the glass. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and terrified.

She turned her head to look at the massive bed. Cristian was sleeping soundly. He was the most ruthless man in the New York business world, and he was her husband on paper.

The memory of the day they signed the prenuptial agreement three years ago hit her like a physical blow. The boardroom had been freezing. He had slid the thick stack of papers across the table, looking at her as if she were a quarterly earnings report. He had told her he needed a wife who would not cause trouble to secure his family trust. He said she was suitable.

She had thought that as long as she played the role of the quiet, obedient wife, she could keep this spot beside him forever.

But Hayden was back. The woman everyone called his first love. The golden girl. Cassidy's deep-rooted inferiority complex clawed at her chest, making it hard to pull air into her lungs.

A blast of cold air blew from the AC vent above her. Cassidy shivered violently. She crossed her arms, hugging her own thin shoulders.

The man on the bed shifted. Cristian's voice, thick and raspy with sleep, cut through the dark. "What are you doing standing over there?"

Cassidy's spine snapped straight. She instantly forced her facial muscles to relax, putting on the mild, agreeable mask she always wore for him.

She turned around and walked slowly back toward the bed. "I was just thirsty. I got up to get some water."

Cristian did not question her. He patted the empty space beside him on the mattress. "Come back to bed," he ordered. It was not a request.

Cassidy climbed back under the covers. She let him pull her back into his chest, his arms locking her in place like a steel trap.

Cristian closed his eyes. His breathing evened out almost immediately. He had no idea that her entire world had just collapsed.

Cassidy stared blankly at the ceiling. Her fingers dug into the expensive sheets. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She knew she would not sleep a single second tonight.

Cassidy slipped out of Cristian's grip with agonizing slowness. She left the bed and walked into the master bathroom, pulling the heavy door shut behind her until only a tiny crack remained.

She turned on the faucet. She cupped the freezing water in her hands and splashed it directly into her face. The shock of the cold did nothing to stop the racing of her heart.

Water dripped down her pale cheeks and off her chin. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and pathetic.

She grabbed a thick towel and pressed it to her face. Her mind dragged her back to that boardroom three years ago. When Cristian had proposed the marriage of convenience, her hands had shaken so badly she could barely hold the pen. It was not out of humiliation. It was the absolute, dizzying shock of winning the lottery. She was marrying the man she had loved from afar.

She lowered the towel and let out a bitter laugh. She was suitable because she was ordinary. She was easy to control.

A sharp, demanding ringtone pierced the air. It came from the bedroom. It was not a vibration. It was the specific ringtone Cristian set for high-priority contacts.

Cassidy dropped the towel on the marble counter. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She walked silently to the bathroom door and peered through the narrow gap.

On the bed, Cristian sat up. He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking deeply irritated.

He reached across the nightstand and grabbed his phone. He glanced at the screen, and his dark eyebrows slammed together in a harsh line.

He swiped to answer. "What," he barked. His voice was thick with sleep and zero patience.

Darren Madden's loud, slurred voice bled through the phone's speaker. Even from the bathroom, Cassidy could hear the thumping bass of a nightclub in the background.

"Cris! You gotta come down here," Darren yelled over the noise. "Hayden is at a club in SoHo. She is completely wasted and refusing to leave."

Cassidy slapped a hand over her own mouth. Her fingernails dug painfully into her cheeks. The nightmare was happening right now.

"Come on, man," Darren pleaded, sounding drunk himself. "Just come pick her up. For old times' sake."

The air in the bedroom seemed to freeze. Cassidy stopped breathing entirely. She stared at Cristian's broad back, waiting for the executioner's blade to fall.

Cristian let out a short, cold laugh. There was zero warmth in his tone. "Are you out of your mind?"

Darren stuttered on the other end. "She keeps crying and screaming your name."

Cristian cut him off instantly. "If she is drunk, call the police. Why the hell are you calling me?"

Darren tried to speak again, but Cristian did not let him.

"I am a married man," Cristian stated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy pitch. "Do not bother me with this garbage again."

Before Darren could form another word, Cristian hit the end button. He tossed the phone back onto the nightstand with a loud clatter.

Behind the door, Cassidy's knees gave out. She slumped against the doorframe, sliding down a few inches. A massive wave of relief crashed over her, bringing tears of pure shock to her eyes. He had rejected her.

Cristian turned his head toward the bathroom. He saw the sliver of light coming from the door. "Cassidy?"

Cassidy scrambled to her feet. She quickly adjusted her robe, pulling it tight around her waist. She pushed the door open and walked out, pretending she was just finishing up.

She walked to her side of the bed, forcing her voice to sound calm. "Is everything okay? Did the phone wake you?"

Cristian looked at her. He noticed the redness around her eyes. He reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down.

She landed on his lap. His large hands rubbed up and down her back in a soothing motion. "It was just a spam call," he said, his voice low and steady. "Go back to sleep."

Cassidy rested her cheek against his bare chest. She listened to the strong, rhythmic beating of his heart. Her own heart was still a mess of tangled wires.

He was lying to her. He had rejected Hayden, but he was hiding the truth from her. He did not want her to know Hayden was calling for him. The relief she felt a moment ago vanished, replaced by a dark, creeping suspicion.

Cassidy waited until Cristian's breathing deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. She carefully untangled herself from his arms and slid off the mattress. She walked out of the bedroom and headed toward the massive open kitchen.

Her bare feet slapped softly against the freezing marble floor. She walked to the island, grabbed a glass, and filled it with ice water from the dispenser.

She tipped her head back and drank the whole glass. The freezing liquid hit her stomach, trying to calm the violent cramps twisting her insides.

The phone she had left on the marble counter suddenly lit up. A soft buzz accompanied the light.

Cassidy set the empty glass down. She picked up the phone. It was an iMessage from Joy. It was a video file.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. She quickly pressed the volume button down to mute, then tapped play.

The video was shaky. It showed a dark, neon-lit VIP booth at a club. Hayden was slumped over a table, wearing a tiny slip dress.

Cassidy stared at the screen. Even without sound, she could easily read Hayden's lips. She was sobbing, repeating the same word over and over: Cristian.

A second later, a text bubble popped up from Joy. "Darren and his idiot friends just said Cristian is already on his way to get her."

Cassidy's hand jerked violently. The phone slipped from her fingers and slammed hard against the marble counter. The crack echoed in the silent kitchen.

Her eyes widened in absolute horror. Her brain scrambled to process the information. Cristian had been so cold on the phone. Was it all an act? Did he wait for her to fall asleep so he could sneak out and play the hero?

She did not bother looking for her slippers. She turned and ran back down the long hallway toward the master bedroom. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to break her ribs.

She shoved the heavy bedroom door open and stared at the center of the room.

The bed was empty. The covers were thrown back on his side.

Cassidy felt the blood drain from her face. The room spun. She turned her head toward the massive walk-in closet.

The black trench coat he always wore was gone from its hook.

A suffocating wave of despair swallowed her whole. Her legs lost all strength. She leaned against the doorframe, sliding down until she hit the thick carpet.

She shoved her fist into her mouth, biting down hard on her own skin to stop the pathetic sobs from ripping out of her throat. She was a fool. She was just a placeholder.

Then, a sharp beep echoed from the front of the penthouse. The electronic lock on the main door clicked open.

Cassidy flinched. She pulled her hand from her mouth and wiped the tears off her face with the back of her sleeve.

She grabbed the wall and forced herself to stand. She stumbled out of the bedroom and walked toward the foyer.

The motion sensor lights flicked on. Cristian was standing by the front door. He was wearing his black trench coat. He was taking off his shoes. In his left hand, he held a brown paper bag.

He heard her footsteps and looked up. His dark eyes instantly locked onto her red, swollen eyes and her bare feet on the cold floor.

His jaw tightened. He closed the distance between them in three long strides. "Why are you walking around without shoes?" he demanded, his voice sharp with reprimand.

Cassidy just stood there. She stared at him, her brain completely short-circuiting. She could not process what she was seeing.

Cristian let out a heavy sigh. He bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her into the living room.

He dropped her onto the plush sofa. He placed the brown paper bag on the glass coffee table. The smell of toasted bread and melted cheese wafted into the air.

"You were tossing and turning," Cristian said, unbuttoning his coat. "I figured you were hungry. I went down to the 24-hour deli on the corner and got you a sandwich."

Cassidy looked at the steaming bag of food. The tears she had just fought back broke loose again. They poured down her face, this time born from the overwhelming, dizzying high of absolute relief.

Cristian froze. He looked completely out of his depth. He sat down next to her, his large, rough thumbs clumsily wiping the tears off her cheeks. "Cassidy, what happened?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, concerned rumble. "Why are you crying?"