The Billionaire's Forgotten Wife Chapter 38: I need to se her

The mont the manager sided with the other woman, Cassidy’s face changed.

It had all happened quickly. A junior staff mber, one who’d been quietly watching the commotion from across the room had slipped away to make a call. Minutes later, a well-dressed man in his late forties entered the showroom with purposeful steps. His na tag read Gregory – Sales Manager.

He approached Vincent, brows slightly furrowed, and asked what was going on. Vincent imdiately leaned in, explaining the incident in a low voice. Then ca the whisper. Cass couldn’t hear it, but she caught the way Gregory’s expression shifted the mont Vincent ntioned that the boy’s mother was a forr buyer. A "valuable client."

That was all it took.

Without looking at the footage, without asking further questions, Gregory turned to the group and began speaking. Softly, diplomatically, but it was clear where his loyalties lay. He expressed his regret for the situation and, in carefully chosen words, implied Cassidy would be responsible for covering the damage.

The boy’s mother smirked, arms folded smugly across her chest.

And that’s when Cassidy’s face changed.

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t lash out. But sothing in her eyes went cold, quiet, sharp.

The woman’s smugness only deepened, as if to say "See? Money still wins."

Cass didn’t look at her.

Instead, she turned to Carol, whose expression had fallen, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted. The young sales associate was clearly taken aback by the manager’s decision, especially without even checking the CCTV footage.

Cass’s voice was calm, but it cut clean.

"You get commission when a custor buys a car here, right?"

Carol blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes. We... we get a percentage depending on the model sold."

Cass gave a small nod. "Let ask you sothing else."

She turned her head slightly, casting a glance toward the scratched car. The newest, most expensive BMW in the entire showroom.

"If I buy that car... the one that got scratche, how much commission would you get?"

The question landed like a dropped glass.

Even Vincent turned, brows pinched, unsure of what he’d just heard.

Carol swallowed, glancing once at the manager, who was now staring at Cassidy with more attention than before.

"I... I’m not sure the exact number off the top of my head, but... it would be significant. It’s a high-end model."

Cass nodded again, slowly, almost thoughtfully.

Then she looked back at the manager, eyes steady.

Before she could say another word, the boy’s mother let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Oh, co on," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You’re not seriously thinking of buying that car, are you?"

Vincent chuckled too, though he tried to mask it behind a cough.

"That model costs nearly half a million dollars," he added, tone thick with disbelief. "It’s not exactly a casual purchase."

Carol glanced nervously at Cassidy, unsure of what was happening, unsure if she should try to stop it, or if she was about to witness sothing unforgettable.

Cass didn’t react to them. Her face didn’t change. She just turned her eyes back to Carol.

"One more thing," she said calmly. "If I decide to buy this car, can I speak to soone above your manager? Soone who actually understands the aning of custor respect?"

Carol hesitated. Then nodded.

"Yes... yes, of course. That would be the regional director. I can arrange a eting or a call once the paperwork starts."

Cass gave her a small smile.

"Perfect. Let’s do it."

Cass slid her wallet open slowly, her movents calm and deliberate. Without a word, she pulled out a sleek, matte black credit card. tallic, weighty, and unmistakable.

The mont the card hit the light, the atmosphere shifted.

Carol’s eyes widened. The manager blinked. Vincent visibly tensed. Even the smug woman, so full of herself just monts ago, fell completely silent.

It wasn’t just any credit card.

It was the card.

A Black Card.

The kind issued only to an elite few. Unlimited credit. Personal concierge. Private jet perks. The stuff of boardrooms and billionaires.

Cass held it lightly between two fingers, letting the silence stretch before handing it to Carol.

"We’ll do full paynt," she said simply. "Put both cars on this."

Carol took the card with shaky hands, her voice nearly a whisper. "Yes... of course."

No one in the room moved.

Cass could feel their stares. Not just shock, but recalculation. Judgnts being retracted. Biases exposed.

She didn’t enjoy this mont. But she didn’t shy away from it either.

Because sotis people needed to be reminded.

They needed to understand that wealth didn’t always wear labels.

That power didn’t always announce itself, until it had to.

And today, Cassidy had to.

Because they’d humiliated her daughter. Accused a three-year-old of damage she hadn’t caused. Judged them by what they wore, not who they were.

Cass hadn’t touched that card in years. Not since Zeke had handed it to her just after the divorce, saying in his usual, unreadable tone:

"Keep it. Consider it yours. Alimony, whatever you want to call it."

She’d ant to return it. She even tried.

But he’d refused.

So she kept it, but never used it.

Not once.

Because deep down, she knew if she ever did, Zeke would know. He’d find out. He always did.

But today, Cassidy didn’t care.

Today was about Claire.

And if this was the price to pay for her dignity, then so be it.

***

At his office, Zeke was deep in work. Eyes scanning rows of numbers and legal text on his laptop screen. His fingers tapped steadily across the keyboard, a rhythm he barely noticed anymore.

Then a soft chi broke the silence.

He glanced at the corner of his screen.

New email notification.

Subject: Transaction Alert – BMW Purchase Confirmation

Zeke’s fingers froze mid-keystroke.

Not because of the amount.

But because of the na tied to the transaction.

And the location.

His jaw tightened.

Without hesitating, he reached for his phone and dialed.

"Blake."

Blake’s voice ca through after a second. "Yeah, boss?"

Zeke didn’t waste ti. "Is Cassidy in Arica?"

There was a brief pause on the other end. "I... don’t know," Blake said, caught off guard. "You told us to stop tracking her, rember? To back off."

Zeke exhaled sharply. He had. He’d said it firmly, no more looking, no more chasing. Let her go.

"Right," Zeke muttered, then ended the call without another word.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the email still open on the screen. The dealership was local. Midtown. Thirty minutes from his office.

And she had used that card.

The one he told her to keep.

The one she never once touched... until now.

He grabbed the landline and pressed a button.

A beat later, Andrew’s voice ca through.

"Yes, sir?"

"Co to my office. Now."

There was no room for questions in Zeke’s tone. Just command, sharp and focused.

"I—yes, sir," Andrew replied quickly.

Less than a minute later, Andrew stepped into Zeke’s office. The tension in the air hit him imdiately, like walking into a storm just before it broke.

Andrew cleared his throat. "You needed , sir?"

Zeke hesitated.

Then, carefully, too carefully, he asked, "Do you happen to know where Cassidy is... right now?"

There was a long pause.

Andrew’s voice lowered. "No, Sir. But, why are you asking about her?"

Zeke didn’t answer.

He just sat there, still.

Still as the quiet ache that had been buried for years, now threatening to claw its way out again.

"I shouldn’t be asking you this," he muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself. "If I don’t even know where she is... why the hell would you?"

Andrew didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze forward.

There was a flicker of guilt in his chest, sharper now, heavier but he said nothing. Not yet.

Zeke didn’t look at him again. He simply turned his eyes back to the laptop screen, as if the conversation had never happened.

He’d promised not to look for her. Promised to move on. But one email. Just one was all it took to unravel that resolve.

Andrew shifted, his voice lower now. "So... are you thinking of finding her, again?"

Zeke leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on a spot past Andrew’s shoulder. "No," he said simply. "I’m not looking."

He tapped a finger once against the desk. "The card I gave her... it was used. Here. In the States."

Andrew’s mouth parted slightly, unsure what to say. Then, after a pause, he asked, "And if she really is here... what would you do?"

Zeke didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he stared at the laptop in front of him, his fingertips lightly grazing the edge of the desk. Andrew’s question echoed in his mind, refusing to let go.

What would you do?

Zeke exhaled slowly.

"If she’s really in Arica..." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "then I need to see her."

He paused. The words sat heavy in the air, honest and unpolished.

"I need to know if this..." he gestured vaguely, as if referring to the hollow ache that had never quite left him, "..if this is just so lingering obsession. Just... the absence of soone I got used to having around."

He looked down at his hands, brow furrowed.

"Or if it’s sothing more than that."

**