His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 12

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 12

That nameless panic made Griffin stand for a few moments in the cold, empty living room. He needed an explanation, some point of leverage to regain control. Suddenly, he thought of something, turned, and strode out toward the garage.

He opened the car door and grabbed the kraft paper envelope from the passenger seat, the one Amelia had left for him.

The envelope was thick and heavy, with no name on it, only his business card clipped to the front. It didn’t seem like Amelia’s style. She was always direct, either sending a short message or making a straightforward call. This mysterious farewell piqued a faint, unfamiliar curiosity in him.

Back in the living room, the soft emergency strip lighting had come on, barely pushing back the darkness. Griffin placed the envelope on the marble coffee table. His fingertips paused at the seal. He could almost feel the weight of the papers inside. This was not a simple love letter.

Just as he was about to tear it open, his phone vibrated violently against the marble surface. The screen lit up. The caller ID—Daphne—was like a silver needle, piercing through the focus he had just managed to gather.

He answered.

“Griffin, where did you go?” Her voice was slurred, carrying the hoarseness and grievance of a hangover.

“I’m home. What’s wrong?” Hearing her voice, Griffin immediately stopped what he was doing. His body relaxed by instinct, and his tone softened.

“My head hurts… and I had a nightmare. Why aren’t you here?”

Listening to her soft complaint, Griffin released the hand that was pressing down on the envelope. He picked up the phone, his other hand already grabbing the cashmere coat draped over the sofa. His car keys clinked lightly in his fingers.

“I’ll be right there. Stay put.”

When he arrived at Daphne’s apartment, the sky was already beginning to lighten. He found her painkillers and water, coaxed her back to sleep, and then, exhausted, sank onto the living room sofa, still wrapped in his coat.

When he opened his eyes again, it was already afternoon. Harsh sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the blinds.

Daphne had just come out of the bathroom, wearing only a silk robe, her wet hair still dripping. Seeing Griffin sitting on the sofa with a blank expression, she walked over, sat close beside him, and shoved the towel in her hand into his.

“Griffin, dry my hair.”

He came back to himself, took the towel, and gently blotted the water from her hair. When it was half dry, he sighed, went to the bathroom, and brought back the Dyson hair dryer. Warm air hummed out.

“Daphne, about the party yesterday…” Only after her hair was completely dry did Griffin turn off the dryer and try to speak.

Before he could finish, Daphne interrupted.

She turned and slid into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her hot breath brushed his skin, her tone a mix of declaration and temptation.

“My confession wasn’t on a whim. From now on, I’m your girlfriend.” She lifted her face, her eyes bright. “So, Griffin, what are you going to do to your girlfriend?”

Her kiss was about to land, but he turned his head aside. He wasn’t in the mood for this. The questions that had circled in his mind all night finally broke through his fatigue.

“That’s not what I meant.” He held her by the shoulders, putting a little distance between them, and looked at her seriously. “I want to know what’s going on with Amelia wanting a divorce. I can’t reach her.”

The smile on Daphne’s face froze, replaced by obvious displeasure.

“Griffin, I thought you’d be happy that we’re finally together.” Her voice turned cold. “Amelia was just a placeholder while I was gone, a respectable substitute. Now that the real thing is back, why are you still bothering with someone unimportant?”