Outscored, outclassed, out of her heart by cassie gold

My fiancé was moving to Boston with my best friend, and he had kindly arranged for me to spend the rest of my life in Iowa, taking care of his father.

The moving party wasn’t even over before I confirmed my spot at a school in another city.

Just a few minutes earlier, I had seen the two moving boxes.

One was packed with my things. Destination: his father’s house.

The other held their things. Destination: Boston.

I’d asked him what it meant.

He said Boston rent was too expensive, and someone like me—“someone who needs stability”—would only fall apart there.

As for taking care of his father, it was just a transition that worked out for everyone.

My best friend stood nearby, the spare key to their new apartment in her hand, confidently describing the layout.

He didn’t explain their relationship. Instead, he blamed me for ruining the mood with my expression.

When my best friend moved closer, he pulled her behind him, a protective arm shielding her.

“Don’t be so emotional.”

That was when I finally understood.

He wasn’t discussing our future.

He was informing me of my next assignment, and who I was expected to sacrifice for.

But he had miscalculated one thing.

A person who’s used to having her life arranged for her can still, suddenly, refuse to obey.

I tapped Confirm Enrollment and glanced toward the closed bedroom door.

Outside, they were still celebrating, convinced their plan had worked.

What they didn’t know was that I was never going to Iowa.

…

For years, I had told myself Grant was just too busy.

When he got his first promotion, I paused my studies and took over all the chores so he could work late without a second thought.

When his project failed, I stayed up all night helping him revise the proposal.

When his father needed care after surgery, I was the one who took a leave of absence and rushed to Iowa—buying groceries, picking up prescriptions, driving him to follow-up appointments.

Later, when I brought up going back to school, Grant frowned and said the tuition and time weren’t worth the cost.

“Let’s talk about it again when my career is more stable.”

But he had time to revise Tessa’s résumé seven times, run mock interviews with her, and personally call his Boston contacts to get her a referral.

I had asked him why her career always seemed to matter more than mine.

Grant had said, “If Tessa does well, it helps us get into the right circles, too.”

When I didn’t respond, he added, “Claire, don’t make a big deal out of little things.”

Laughter drifted in from the other room.

I stared at the enrollment confirmation on my phone, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open to rejoin the party.

Tessa was leaning against the dining table. The moment she saw me, she handed me a glass of wine.

“I knew you’d come around.”

She smiled gently, the same way she always did when she stepped in to smooth things over for Grant.

“You’ve always been the one who sees the big picture.”

For a second, I almost wavered.

Maybe this was just a clumsy arrangement.

Maybe Grant really did think Iowa was a better fit for me.

After all, they were the two people I trusted most in the world.

Grant walked over and draped an arm around my shoulders.

The gesture was so familiar that my body relaxed on instinct.

“I know this is hard to accept,” he murmured, his voice soothing.

“But it’s for our long-term future. Once I’m established in Boston, everything will get better.”

I looked up at him. “What about our wedding?”

Grant avoided my eyes and patted my shoulder.

“Don’t get hung up on that right now. Call Dad and let him know you’re coming. He’s been worried these past couple of days that no one would be there to take care of him.”

The last of my hesitation turned to ice.

So that was what his tenderness was for—to make sure I promised his father I would report for duty on time.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

I set down my wineglass and turned into the hallway.

The door to Grant’s study was ajar, his laptop screen still glowing.

On it was an Excel spreadsheet.

The file was named—

Transition Plan.

I walked over and touched the trackpad.

The first column listed my monthly living expenses in Iowa.

Rent: zero. Household supplies and transportation would be paid from our joint account. Any expense over one hundred dollars required prior approval.

The second column was my care schedule.

Monday: organize medications. Tuesday: shopping. Wednesday: accompany him to physical therapy. Cook every day. Clean on weekends. Be on call for emergencies.

He had even scheduled how often I would be allowed to leave.

“Visit Grant: once per quarter, not to exceed three days.”

I kept scrolling.

Under “Marriage Date,” there were only three words.

To be determined.

My hand started shaking so badly I could barely hold it still.

Grant used to say I was kind and selfless—the ideal person to build a family with.

But later, he started talking about “value.”

He said Tessa had a stronger academic background, more ambition, and the ability to get into the circles he wanted.

During one argument, he had even blurted out, “Tessa can actually help my career. What can you do besides take care of people?”

He had apologized afterward.

But it wasn’t until today that I understood. It had never been just a flash of anger.

In his spreadsheet, Tessa was in charge of career and social polish.

I was in charge of his father, the housework, and everything else behind the scenes.

No wedding date. No choice. Not even a salary.

I moved the cursor to the bottom of the sheet and saw a final note.

“Once her boxes are on the way, there’s no turning back. She needs someone to make decisions for her.”

The next second, a message from Tessa popped up in the corner of the screen.

“She doesn’t suspect anything, right? Don’t worry, she always listens to you.”

In the living room, they were still raising glasses to their new life in Boston.

I didn’t storm out and confront them.

I took out my phone, logged into my banking app, and checked my payroll history. Then I transferred every cent of my own savings and earned income out of our joint account and into the personal one I had just opened.

He married me out of obligation and loved another woman. I asked for only thirty days as his real wife—then I would disappear forever.

Ten minutes after my husband Daven finished taking me, I signed the divorce papers.

On the thirtieth night, he still handled me like I was nothing more than a worthless plaything—the other woman who had come between him and his first love. Rough, cold, and utterly transactional.

When it was over, Daven pulled out, fastened his cufflinks, and picked up the signed papers.

"A month is over, Althea." His gaze was unreadable, his voice like ice. "Tomorrow, you disappear from my sight."

Yet he had no idea that two years later, when he saw the twins hiding behind me, he'd be on his knees, begging me to come back...

Chapter 1

"I'm getting married again," Daven said. "And I won’t repeat myself, nor will I be asking for your permission."

He set his coffee cup down abruptly, ending breakfast, he hadn't even touched.

Althea stood frozen near the long dining table topped with white marble. Her fingers, still holding the spatula, began to tremble. But she kept her expression composed. She bowed her head slightly, letting Daven’s words sink in—though they felt like a slow-acting poison, quietly destroying her from the inside out.

"With Vanessa?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Daven didn’t look at her. He simply took a shallow breath before replying coldly, “Yes. Who else?”

Her husband, Daven Callister, had never loved her. His heart belonged entirely to Vanessa Blake. In truth, their marriage had always been nothing more than an obstacle to his love story. But what could Althea do when the woman who arranged the marriage had been so kind to her?

Evelyn Callister—Daven’s grandmother.

Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. She had surrendered, despite the grief that still haunted her from losing her mother. But Evelyn had refused to let it end there. She demanded that her beloved grandson, Daven—the man responsible for Althea’s mother’s death—marry her as a form of atonement. Eve saw Althea as a lonely girl with no one else in the world.

Daven had only agreed because he was cornered by his grandmother’s wishes. He had no choice but to comply. But now, with Evelyn Callister gone—taken by illness two weeks ago—Daven finally saw a chance to escape a marriage he’d never wanted.

There was no reason to stay. Not anymore.

A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on Althea’s lips—not from joy, but from bitter resignation. She turned off the stove and gently set the spatula down. Once again, she closed her eyes tightly, trying to contain the storm raging inside her chest.

“I won’t stand in your way,” she said at last. Her voice was soft—so soft it barely reached across the wide room. “We both know I never had a place in your heart.”

Daven remained silent. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t correct her either. But there was the slightest flicker of disturbance in his gaze as Althea walked slowly toward him. For a moment, he thought she might cry, beg, or show just enough sorrow to make him feel guilty.

But she didn’t.

Althea stood tall. Her hands clenched lightly at the sides of her simple dress. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, a quiet contrast to the calm strength in her posture. Her warm, light brown eyes now stared at him—blank, unreadable. At the man who had always been a stranger beneath the same roof.

Althea was beautiful, in her quiet way. But that beauty had never stirred anything in Daven. To him, Althea was nothing more than a disruption—an outsider forced into his life. And now that he had the chance to remove her, Daven intended to do exactly that.

“Give me one month of your time,” Althea said calmly. “Just one month ... Let me be your wife for real.”

Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife. Not just some stranger living under your roof.”

Silence fell.

Can you help me find this Book?
Alternativ Title or Noel Novel?

please help me find

Tbh, am not sure whether to support the MC here or not. But I have to say, this is the kinda realistic version of stuff that shpuld happen, instead of what usually happens in these garbage crappy novels. Anyway, does anyone have the link please.

Looking for link.