Lila’s POV
I never knew you could betray yourself too—your heart, your soul, and the fragile pieces you were trying so hard to protect.
I stood in the middle of the living room, watching the man I love more than life itself look at me like I was filth.
“I should’ve known,” Mason said coldly, his voice laced with venom. “You were too perfect, too patient, too damn good to be true.”
My lips trembled. I wanted to say something.
I wanted to scream, “It started as a job, but I fell for you. I love you.”
But he didn’t give me the chance.
He picked up the manila folder from the table—its edges were sharp, but its contents were even sharper.
Divorce papers.
A pen rested on top of it.
“Sign it, Cassidy. Or is it Lila now? What name do you ruin people’s lives with these days?”
His words didn’t just hurt, they stabbed me. Every syllable was a knife twisting into the softest parts of me. I tried to meet his gaze, but it burned. The disappointment in his eyes was unbearable.
“I didn’t mean to—” I whispered.
“Oh, don’t,” he cut in, hand slamming the table so hard it made me flinch. “Don’t feed me more of your poison. Just sign it and get the hell out of my life.”
I flinched at his anger but what made me truly shatter was the pain beneath it. I could feel the betrayal he felt and it was as if I betrayed myself too.
We've been married for six months and they've been the best six months of my life. I just found out that I'm four weeks pregnant. I had planned to tell him today. Everything, the whole truth, and ask for his forgiveness before telling him he'll soon be a father. I even bought a tiny onesie with the words Daddy’s New Boss printed on it.
“Mason,” I said again, stepping towards him. “Please, I—”
“Don’t!” His voice cracked like thunder.
He looked away from me, like he couldn’t bear the sight of me. His hands trembled slightly and that was what finally broke me because Mason Sterling was never shaken.
He turned back to me, jaw tight, his eyes looked like he was holding back tears.
“I loved you, Lila or Cassidy. Whatever the hell your real name is. I loved you. And you used that love to bury a knife in my back. I can’t—" His voice faltered. “I can’t look at you without hating myself.”
That was it.
I picked up the pen with shaky hands and eyes blurred with tears. The words on the paper swam as I flipped to the last page and signed.
He didn’t move or say anything else after that. He just stared at the wall like he was trying to erase every memory of me that lingered in this place.
I turned and walked to our bedroom and started packing quietly. I couldn't cry anymore, my body felt too numb as if even my tears had turned their backs on me.
I paused once, brushing my fingers over the framed photo on his dresser. It was us—on the balcony in a hotel in Milan, six weeks into our marriage. I was laughing and he was staring at me like I was his entire world.
I placed the photo face-down.
My suitcase wheels hummed against the marble floor as I dragged them through the hallway I used to walk barefoot at midnight, wearing his shirt, and stealing kisses.
At the door, I turned to look at him one last time. He was still standing in the same position, arms crossed, jaw clenched, and refusing to look back.
“Mason,” I whispered. But he didn’t flinch.
I left without saying anything else. The air was cold and damp outside. I didn't know where else to go. I placed a hand over my stomach, whispering to the wind.
“I’m sorry, baby but we'll be fine. We just have to survive.”
And with that, I walked away from the mansion, and the only man I've ever loved.