He Thought I Was Being Good, I Was Just Getting Ready to leave Chapter 01

He Thought I Was Being Good, I Was Just Getting Ready to leave Chapter 01

Everyone thought I was the perfect good girl.

For five years, I stayed with Harrison Blake, swallowing my pride while he cheated on me behind my back.

Until that day, when I found lingerie and stockings that didn’t belong to me in the hotel suite.

He felt no guilt at being caught. Just a lazy smile.

“Be a good girl. Go check us out.”

His friends started taking bets on how long I’d last this time.

Harrison leaned on his hand, completely unconcerned. “She’s so well-behaved. She’ll get over it in a couple of days.”

Just like every time before. I’d come crawling back, begging him not to leave.

What Harrison didn’t know was that good girls like me, once we’re of age to settle down, we tend to follow our parents’ advice.

So while he was feeling smug, I gathered my courage and asked the guy my mother set me up with.

“Would it be alright if our kids kept my last name?”

***

Harrison texted me the room number. I rang the doorbell for what felt like forever, but no one answered.

I pulled my hand back, leaned against the wall, and readjusted the bag on my shoulder. Inside was a fourteen-inch laptop, and the strap was digging into my shoulder until it ached.

Finally, the door beside me opened.

Harrison stood there wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his bare chest still glistening with droplets of water.

The tall man braced one hand against the doorframe, his brow slightly furrowed. “What took you so long? Couldn’t you have come any sooner?”

I held my bag with both hands and looked up at him apologetically. “Sorry. The project hit a last-minute bug, so I had to work late.”

Harrison stepped back and walked inside, tossing over his shoulder, “That crappy job of yours, how much does it pay, anyway? Just quit already.”

I quickly slipped inside before the door swung shut.

That’s when I noticed something off. I froze.

Harrison was staying in a suite, with a long hallway from the entrance to the main room.

I rounded the corner and saw them, stockings torn beyond recognition, lingerie strewn across the floor, and a flimsy thong.

I knew Harrison liked to play around. I knew that even when I was by his side all these years, he never stopped seeing other women.

But I always told myself: if I don’t see it, it’s not real.

I always made a point of never seeing him with someone else. Not seeing it let me keep lying to myself.

Like a goldfish with its seven-second memory, I gave myself that long to numb the truth each time.

I looked at Harrison. He was already leaning against the bar, watching me.

He held a glass of whiskey. From the bathroom nearby, I could still hear water running.

His gaze held no panic. No guilt.

“You came too late,” he said, shrugging, his voice calm.

I clutched my bag tightly, terrified I’d drop it and the laptop would hit the floor.

A laptop worth over a thousand dollars. Nearly half my monthly paycheck.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the bathroom door swung open.