Chapter 4- The divorce

Cassie’s eyes locked on the glowing screen. Her body stumbled backward, as though the words themselves had shoved her.

Trent and Misty.

It was unthinkable. And yet there it was, spelled out in headlines bold enough for the world to see.

Her heart splintered in her chest, breaking into sharp pieces she couldn’t gather. She was still Trent’s wife—still bound to him—and now he was announcing his engagement to her sister?

Her mind spun like a broken compass, unable to point anywhere steady. Did her parents know? Of course they did. Trent would never go public without their blessing.

The café seemed to shrink around her. The air pressed in close. Cassie was still trying to organize her thought process. It was difficult with the amount of whispers that clawed at her ears.

"Oh no, he's like the most eligible bachelor in the whole city! Why is he getting married? I'm going to die alone!" one of the girls joked.

"I know, right? He's so gorgeous and rich. I would have given my left arm to marry him," another girl chimed in.

"I had a crush on him for years. I even tried to get a job at Silverwood Enterprises just to meet him," a third girl admitted.

"Oh my god, have you seen Misty's I*******m?" one of the girls asked. "She's absolutely stunning."

"I know, right?" another girl replied. "I saw her at a charity event last week, and she was breathtaking. That girl is a true beauty."

The girls all nodded in agreement, and one of them added, "And she's so elegant and refined. I bet she's going to make a beautiful bride."

Cassie's heart twisted with pain as she listened to the girls' conversation.

Her eyes stung with tears. Once, she had loved hearing women admire Trent. How other girls raved about her husband, even at work. She had worn their envy like a crown. She loved knowing that Trent belonged to her, that she was the one he came home to. Now their praise was poison. Every word drove the knife deeper.

Her cup slipped. Scalding coffee splashed across her hand, but she didn’t flinch. The fire inside her chest drowned out everything else.

Memories lined up before her like cruel ghosts—Trent’s “business trips,” his late-night “meetings.” Lies. Every single one. He hadn’t been working. He had been weaving a future with her sister.

Her sister.

Cassie’s breath broke. Tears blurred her vision. Without thinking, she pushed through the café doors and out into the roar of the street.

The city lights smeared into rivers of gold through her tears. Her sobs spilled free, raw and trembling. Her feet carried her forward, though she had no destination—only escape.

She pushed through the crowds. Her eyes were blinded by tears. A sob escaped Cassie's throat. All she knew was that she had to get away from the pain and the memories that were suffocating her.

Her wedding surfaced in her mind: small, intimate, hidden. Only close friends and family had been invited, and Trent had agreed to the small ceremony without hesitation.

Cassie once, she had thought it was romantic. Now she saw it for what it was—a shadow, a secret. He had never wanted the world to see her.

Was it all planned from the start, because that was what it seemed like. Cassie felt like her whole life was a lie, unraveling right in front of her.

And then the headline’s words echoed again: Murphy Magnolias’ Only Daughter.

The phrase struck her harder than any of it. Not Trent. Not the company.

She wasn’t counted. Not really. Adopted, yes. Loved, perhaps. But never fully theirs. The words stripped her of place, of belonging, leaving her naked in the truth—she had always been an outsider.

They had raised her, loved her, and supported her. The phrase was like a slap in the face. It was just a reminder that she didn't quite fit into her family's perfect little box.

It felt like a dozen knives had been shoved into her heart at once. The pain and betrayal were overwhelming.

Her eyes stung with tears as she walked. Her feet carrying her on autopilot. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do, but she knew she had to get to the bottom of this.

Her phone chimed in her bag. Cassie took it out. Her eyes lit up as she read the text from her father.

[Cassie, baby. Please come home, we need to talk. Can you come home, I'm sending a driver to you.]

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding, and her family could fix it.

She felt a surge of relief as she typed out a response to her father. [Yes, please. I'd love a ride home.]

As she waited for the car to arrive, Cassie's mind began to spin with possibilities.

Maybe Trent and Misty had gotten caught up in some kind of publicity stunt, and it wasn't real. It was a prank. Or a really and joke.

On the curb, she clung to fragile hope. She imagined waking tomorrow to find this was only a nightmare, a cruel story her mind had written.

Cassie was willing to forgive, she would forget—anything, overlook everything - the pain, the betrayal, the humiliation. She would if only life could return to what it had been.

She just wanted to wake up and have it all be a bad dream.

She wanted to go back to the way things were before, when she was happy and in love with Trent. Maybe, just maybe, she could get her old life back.

She stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the car to arrive.

The driver pulled up to the side of the road and got out. "Cassie, your father sent me to pick you up," he said.

Cassie got into the car without saying a word. The driver got back in and drove to the house.

When they arrived, the driver escorted Cassie to her father's study. Her father was seated behind his desk.

The driver stepped aside and let Cassie enter the study alone. He closed the door behind her and waited outside.

"Hello Daddy," she said but there was no response.

Just then the door opened. Her mother, Bridget walked in alongside Trent and Misty.

"What are the doing here?" she asked her father.

"Cassie, we need to talk," her father said.

Trent and Misty approached her. "We've been trying to reach you, Cassie," Trent said condescendingly. "We need to discuss the terms of your separation from me."

"Daddy, is this what you called me her for? You called me to threaten me."

"Watch your words Cassidy, he is still your father," Bridget growled.

"Then he should act like it! Act like your fucking father and do something about this--"

Before Cassie could finish, she was cut off by a slap. "Do not talk to your father like that!" Bridget was about to land another slap when Payne stopped her.

"That's enough! Let's just get this over with!" He pulled out a brown envelope from his desk drawer. "Cassie, sign this and leave!"

Cassie couldn't tell which pain was worse, the one in her heart, or the one radiating from her cheek. Her lips quivered and her body shook, but she couldn't cry. Not in front of the enemy.

"You are a fucking disappointment!" she said to her father who couldn't even meet her gaze.

Cassie took the papers putting her signature on them. "Fucking joke!" she sneered.

After signing, Trent smiled at Misty. "It's all taken care of, darling."

She took one good look at everyone in the room. Cassie wasn't going to take it lying down. Now she knew her father was in on it too.

Cassie had spotted photocopies of the Audit documents as she stepped into the office.

"I can have a car take you back!" Her father said as she was halfway to the door.

"Keep your fake sympathy to yourself," she barked, "I can find my way."

"Uhhh...Cassie," Trent retorted, "Bring the company car back tomorrow, alongside your cards. Any card affiliated to Murphy Magnolias or Silverwood. Don't make me call my lawyers."

Cassie's head snapped back, "Expect me!"

Cassie's hands shook as she opened the office door. She had just lost her entire life in flash.

She called Cora multiple times but there was no answer. It just meant she was in one of her never ending meetings.

After leaving her at least fifteen calls and twelve voice mails, Cassie decided to walk. It was already late at night, and she couldn't go back into the mansion to beg for a ride. She had to protect what was left of her dignity.

....

Cassie walked aimlessly, her heels clicking against the pavement, but all she could feel was heat creeping up her neck. Humiliation clung to her skin like a second layer.

The café replayed in her mind on a loop she couldn’t shut off: the sound of her card being declined, the girls’ laughter bubbling behind her, and then him. That stranger’s voice, smooth but cutting, dismissing her coldly.

Every time she closed her eyes, his face was there—those unreadable eyes, that sharp jaw, the thin press of his lips when he looked at her like she was both fragile and beneath him. It was branded into her eyelids, engraved deeper with each blink.

She hated him for it. Hated how his presence stuck like a thorn under her skin.

By the time she reached the long, quiet stretch of road outside the city, her legs felt like lead. The night air wrapped cold around her, pressing exhaustion into her bones.

When headlights sliced the dark, Cassie squinted, her heart skittering in her chest. The SUV slowed, humming low like some predator stalking its prey.

Her breath caught. The window slid down.

She blinked once. Twice. Her pulse thudded in her ears.

It was him. The café stranger. The man whose face she couldn’t shake.

For one insane moment, Cassie thought she’d conjured him out of sheer humiliation, like her shame had taken shape and followed her.

“You look like you need a ride,” his voice cut through the night—calm, controlled, as though he had been expecting her.

Her throat worked. “No,” she croaked, shaking her head, though the world tilted around her. “I don’t need anything from you.”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, to spit the words and stand tall—but her vision blurred. The edges of the night folded inward, pressing darkness against her eyes.

Cassie swayed, her body giving up the fight.

Her lips parted as if to finish her sentence, but only a faint whisper escaped before her knees buckled.

And then everything slipped away, the last thing she saw before the dark took her was his face—engraved just as it had been every time she closed her eyes.