Love's Double-Cross

The smile at the corner of Trevor's lips faded ever so slightly. "Cassidy, she's my wife," he said, his tone cold and resolute. "You've overstepped."

I watched his sharp, chiseled face as he said it, and the irony of it all wasn't lost on me.

Ah, how considerate of him to still acknowledge me as his wife. But then again, if I didn't hold even that small place in his heart, my plans wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

This fact, inconvenient as it may seem, was one I intended to use to my full advantage.

Hearing his stern words, Cassidy quickly shifted gears, her voice turning sugary with a touch of practiced coyness. "Oh, Trevor, you're so fierce it scared me!" she pouted. "Fine, let's just say I misspoke."

Then, with a flirtatious lilt, she added, "By the way, Trevor, I learned a new move. Want to try it with me?"

Trevor cast her a sideways glance, his lips curving slightly in musement. "Sure," he replied.

From the sounds that followed through the video feed, it was clear Cassidy had dialed up her performance, her cries becoming even more exaggerated and shameless than before. I didn't need to see her face to imagine the theatrics.

Trevor seemed to rise to the occasion, his focus shifting entirely.

Watching the discarded shirt he'd flung aside earlier, a quiet chuckle slipped from my lips. There's something almost poetic about the contrast, I mused. Cassidy might sell her charm, but what else does she have to offer? If she dares to play with fire, I'll make sure she gets burned.

When Trevor was done, he reached for a tissue and wiped his hands with mechanical precision.

Cassidy's voice came through again, teasing, "Trevor, you came awfully quick this time."

He merely nodded, his tone even. "Hmm. Busy day at the office. I'm tired."

Tired? Hardly. I knew full well what was on his mind. He wasn't weary from work; he was still savoring the lingering taste of me. It was fascinating how effortlessly he lied, how seamlessly he could craft his narratives.

After ending the video call, Trevor sat at his desk, staring off into the distance. What thoughts occupied his mind? I couldn't say. After a moment, he stood, his footsteps echoing softly as he left the study.

I switched off the video feed and settled onto the bed, feigning sleep as the door creaked open.

Trevor crossed the room, stopping by the bed. He called my name softly—twice—but I didn't stir. Finally, he slipped under the covers, his arm wrapping around me as though he couldn't bear the distance.

Ah, men. Predictable creatures.

As if on cue, I let out a small, sleepy sound, turning toward him. Seeking comfort in his arms, or so it seemed, I murmured, "Oh honey, you're here."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Mia, if one day I were to make a mistake, would you forgive me?"

Without hesitation, I nodded. "Of course. I've already told you, no matter what you do, I'll always be on your side."

I said the words he wanted to hear, the ones that would settle his heart. For a fleeting moment, something softened in his eyes—a glimmer of guilt, perhaps.

He pulled me closer, his embrace tightening as if afraid I might slip away. "Mia," he whispered, his voice heavy, "sleep now."

"Goodnight, honey," I replied sweetly.

Trevor, perhaps out of guilt, had been spending all his time with me for days on end, leaving Cassidy out in the cold. Deprived of Trevor's attention, she must have been fretting that her handsome and capable money tree might finally cut her loose. Her patience ran thin, and desperation must have gotten the better of her.

It was at this time that Trevor took me to a charity auction gala. The event was hosted by one of his business partners, and the guest list was as exclusive as it was illustrious—every attendee was either fabulously wealthy or impeccably influential.

And yet, Cassidy showed up.

She arrived on the arm of a middle-aged man with plain features—someone I recognized as Mr. Lance Lonway, a manufacturing magnate with a wife and children waiting at home.

Seeing her clinging to him was enough to make it clear what kind of arrangement they had. Ah, such a pitiful creature, selling herself for the scraps of another's indulgence.

The hall bustled with elegant conversation and the rustle of evening wear, but Cassidy's anxious searching eyes gave her away. She was hunting for someone—and when her gaze landed on Trevor, it lit up like a match in the dark.

That was until she noticed me by his side. Her expression faltered, her eyes clouding with the silent accusation of a betrayed mistress.

This was our first face-to-face meeting, hers and mine.

Trevor, however, remained as composed and indifferent as ever, his demeanor impenetrable. If Cassidy hoped to rattle him, she failed spectacularly. The man at her side, Lance, seemed to have at least a modicum of sense, as he promptly led her over to exchange pleasantries with Trevor.

After the polite greetings, Cassidy couldn't resist. "Mr. Farren, is this your wife?" she asked, her voice light but forced.

Trevor nodded, his reply simple and unequivocal. "Yes."

Cassidy hadn't expected his wife to be someone like me—young, strikingly beautiful, a far cry from the dull, insipid woman he must have described in her presence. The realization hit her like a slap, and she gripped the stem of her wine glass so tightly I half-expected it to shatter.

I, draped in a champagne-colored velvet gown, the light catching the pure pink diamond at my neckline, smiled with the poised warmth of someone entirely at ease. Meanwhile, she stood there in an unremarkable black dress, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders. The contrast was stark, almost cruel.

Tell me, Cassidy, does this little tableau crush you enough? My presence alone was a blow you couldn't counter.

The auction began, and the room shifted into an air of quiet anticipation as everyone took their seats.

Cassidy and her Lance were seated directly across from us. Lance, clearly smitten by her syrupy charms, gleefully bid on a series of trinkets to please her. Each item he won added a smug flicker to her gaze, one she aimed squarely at me as though to say, Look at this. What's your husband done for you?

Trevor, for his part, hadn't placed a single bid. Not that it mattered. I caught the fleeting glance Cassidy sent my way, a spark of triumph in her eyes, before she turned to nestle herself smugly into Lance's chest.

I didn't react, merely smiling inwardly. In such a rush to declare your victory, are you? I thought, amused.