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Defying The Odds: His True Wife

Defying The Odds: His True Wife

For three years, I played the role of the quiet, obedient trophy wife to Cristian George, the most ruthless man in New York. Everyone, including me, thought ours was just a cold transaction for his family trust. Then, his legendary first love, Hayden, returned from Europe after finalizing her divorce. She didn't just come back; she came straight for my husband. The entire Upper East Side exploded with gossip. My phone buzzed constantly with videos of her sobbing his name in VIP clubs and friends warning me to watch my back. Hayden even showed up at my workplace, sliding a multi-million dollar tourmaline necklace across the table as a condescending welcome gift. The elite circle opened dark web betting pools, mocking me as a pathetic charity case and taking bets on how fast I would be thrown out on the freezing streets. I was terrified. I had secretly loved him for ten years, but I was just ordinary. I hid the necklace in the darkest corner of my drawer, waiting for the executioner's blade to fall, fully expecting him to run back to his golden girl. But when Cristian accidentally found that velvet box, his eyes didn't fill with nostalgia. They darkened with absolute, territorial rage. He didn't ask for a divorce. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, threw the multi-million dollar gem aside like actual garbage, and picked up his phone. "Clear my schedule for Saturday evening. And book a fitting for Mrs. George." He was going to give the city a show they would never forget.
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Chapter 4

Cristian picked Cassidy up from the sofa and carried her back down the hallway. He walked into the master bedroom and placed her gently in the center of the bed. He pulled a thin blanket up over her legs. He turned around and walked toward the adjoining sitting room to pour her a glass of warm water. Cassidy sniffled. She watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner. A heavy wave of guilt washed over her. She had doubted him. Then, panic spiked in her chest. Her phone. She had left it on the kitchen island. Joy might send another message. Cassidy threw the blanket off. She sprinted out of the bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the floorboards, and ran straight to the kitchen. She grabbed the phone off the marble counter. The moment her fingers touched the screen, a new voice message popped up from Joy. Cassidy's heart raced. She was desperate to hear exactly what Joy had to say. Her hand trembled as she reached for the screen. She intentionally tapped the play icon, completely forgetting that her phone was still paired to the kitchen's Bluetooth speaker system from when she was listening to music earlier that evening. Instantly, Joy's voice blasted through the penthouse at maximum volume. "Cass! Did your husband go or not? That little bitch is still crying at the club. You better not let him rekindle his old flame!" The words echoed off the high ceilings like a bomb going off. Cassidy screamed. She fumbled with the phone, desperately trying to hit the volume down button. Her hands shook so violently that the phone slipped from her grasp and crashed onto the hardwood floor. Cristian walked out of the sitting room, holding a glass of water. He stopped dead in his tracks at the edge of the hallway. The apartment fell into a suffocating, dead silence. The only sound was the faint rattle of the phone settling on the floor. Cassidy stood frozen by the island. All the blood rushed out of her face, leaving her chalk-white. She forgot how to breathe. Her mind went completely blank. Cristian looked down at the phone on the floor. He slowly lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Cassidy, who was shaking like a terrified child. He did not yell. He did not throw the glass. He walked forward with slow, measured steps. He placed the water glass on the marble counter. He bent down and picked up the phone. The screen had a spiderweb crack across it. He pressed the lock button, silencing the device. He handed the phone back to her. His dark, piercing eyes never left her face. Cassidy reached out with a trembling hand and took it. She dropped her chin to her chest, bracing herself for the explosion of his anger. Instead, Cristian reached out. He pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her head up so she had to look him in the eye. "Is this why you were crying earlier?" he asked. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but it demanded the absolute truth. Cassidy bit her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. Tears welled up in her eyes again. She gave a tiny, jerky nod. Cristian let out a long breath. His thumb moved, slowly stroking the soft skin of her cheek. His expression turned deadly serious. "Listen to me, Cassidy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Hayden and I ended things three years ago. There is nothing left." Cassidy blinked. Her breath hitched. In three years of marriage, he had never once explained his past to her. Cristian stepped closer, his chest almost touching hers. "I have zero interest in recycling garbage from the past. And I certainly would not run out in the middle of the night for her." He paused, his thumb gently stroking her jawline. "And when Darren called earlier, I didn't tell you who it was because I didn't want you to worry over nothing. It was nonsense, and it had no place in our bedroom." The word "garbage" hit Cassidy's ears and sent a shockwave of pure joy straight to her heart. The heavy, suffocating weight in her chest evaporated. Cristian watched the fear leave her eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a helpless, almost fond smirk. He pulled her into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Next time you have a question, ask me. Stop listening to outsiders." Cassidy buried her face into his solid chest. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist and let out a soft "Okay." The crisis that had nearly destroyed her mind was gone.

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