They say hearts aren't made of stone. We treated him right all these years, but did he care? Not a bit.
I was so livid, it hurt. I hated him, and myself for loving a monster.
Alex was busy with his phone, clueless to my storm brewing. He pushes the bag at me again. "Check these out, see if anything catches your eye."
All from Hermès, stuff Cecelia Williams once dreamed of. I peeked inside, some less sought-after bits, obviously leftovers from some posh haul.
I'm no high roller but know enough to spot the bait-and-switch.
Basically, they were Cecelia's rejects.
Cecelia Williams, that's the chick who grabbed his phone that day, his orphanage friend and old flame.
They split after the orphanage.
However, they reconnected when I nudged him into e-commerce. He hired her as a live stream host, and even made her his personal assistant after starting up.
Whenever I'd get suspicious, he'd play it cool, "If anything was up with Cecelia and me, it would've happened ages ago. Why would I marry you? You're overacting and paranoid."
Old lines, but they cut deep. I couldn't muster a comeback.
I mean, I could've thrown in his face that he was dirt-poor back then, and now he's Mr. Moneybags.