His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 02

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 02

The door slammed shut.

Griffin was gone, chasing after Daphne. From the moment he’d walked in to the moment he’d left, he hadn’t looked at me once.

I was used to it.

My heart didn’t even stir. All that remained was the quiet finality of a settled debt. I carefully folded the signed authorization and placed it in the inner pocket of my clutch, alongside those eight cold place cards.

Then I turned off the lights and went to bed.

I don’t know how much time had passed when the bedroom door creaked open and the light flickered on.

Drowsily, I opened my eyes to see Griffin pull open my nightstand drawer and place a velvet jewelry box inside. Then he leaned down, bringing with him the chill of the night and the scent of another woman’s perfume, and tried to pull me into his arms.

“Why’d you go to sleep so early?” His breath, laced with a deliberate tenderness, brushed against my ear. “You used to wait up for me.”

That was before.

I turned stiffly onto my side, avoiding his touch. “I had a migraine after the dinner.”

My coldness made him pause. In the dark, I could feel his eyes on me. Maybe it was guilt. After a moment of silence, he finally offered an explanation for abandoning me.

“I’m sorry, Amelia. Daphne… it was an emergency. I promise it will never happen again.”

I almost laughed.

Of course it wouldn’t.

The eight times were up.

Our bet was over.

“Mm,” I murmured, closing my eyes, my voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’m sure it won’t.”

The next morning, when I woke up, Griffin had already made breakfast. Smoked salmon and avocado toast, my favorite, with a steaming cup of Earl Grey beside it. Before Daphne came back, this had been a daily ritual. Back then, I had been naive enough to believe it was love.

“Amelia, come have breakfast,” he said, a note of appeasement in his voice.

“No, I don’t have much of an appetite.” I pulled a beige cashmere sweater from the closet. “There’s an alumni event later.”

He immediately grabbed his coat and keys. “I’ll drive you.”

I didn’t refuse. Some battles were no longer worth fighting.

The moment I sat down in his Bentley, I was hit with Daphne’s familiar scent. It was the second time I had smelled Diptyque’s Baies fragrance in his car.

The seashell ornament I had strung by hand on a beach in Maine and hung from his rearview mirror was gone. In its place was a brand-new, black car-fragrance diffuser, emitting a sharp, cool scent.

It was Daphne’s favorite brand.

Griffin noticed my gaze and quickly explained, “Oh, that old ornament must have fallen off when the assistant took the car for maintenance. He replaced it for me.”

The assistant again.

I remembered him blaming an assistant’s mistake when he’d stood me up at the fertility clinic.

I didn’t call him on his clumsy lie. I just pulled my gaze away.

“That seashell was just something I found on the beach back home. If it’s gone, it’s gone.”

He seemed surprised by my calm. “You really don’t want it back?” he tested.

“Mm.” I gave a slight nod. “I don’t want it anymore.”

That ornament.

This marriage.

This man.

I didn’t want any of it anymore.

The car pulled up to the Harvard Club in Boston’s Back Bay. I opened the door, got out, and walked straight toward the stately red-brick building.

The club lounge was already buzzing with alumni, gathered in small groups, sipping champagne and discussing the latest stock market news and charity projects.

A familiar alumna’s wife spotted me and greeted me with a smile.

“Amelia, you came alone? Griffin isn’t with you today?”

I was about to offer my well-practiced excuse about an urgent foundation meeting when a bright, feminine voice answered for me.

“Griffin is terribly busy today.”

Daphne glided into our circle with a mimosa in hand, her manner so proprietary it was as if she were the lady of my house.

“His board meeting runs until eleven, and this afternoon he has lunch with a partner from Goldman Sachs.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough for everyone around us to hear.

People exchanged knowing glances. Someone chimed in, half-joking, “Looks like Daphne still knows Griffin best.”

Daphne’s smile deepened. As if she didn’t think the fire was burning hot enough, she added casually, “Oh, he’s always like that. When he gets busy, he forgets everything. I even had to remind him about the economic forum in Switzerland next week before he remembered to have his assistant book the flights.”