The CEO'S Forgotten Promise

Chapter 4

Tom McCarthy

I sat in the glass-walled office on the forty-second floor, in New York city.

The new app was almost ready, the only thing that was needed was one more round of bug fixes and we’d launch to the investors. A move that would make me a billionaire….And I would finally buy back Sara's company as our anniversary gift.

I remember how she and her mom sold it without thinking twice just to save my company, I can't even begin to explain what would have happened if I went bankrupt. My family's legacy would have been trashed. I owed Sara and her mom the best care in this world.

I’d been on this trip for two weeks, sleeping four hours a night, living on coffee I barely liked. I missed Sara's coffee.

The computer screen glowed with lines of code. I kept typing, deleting, and typing again for what felt like hours.

The door opened without a knock.

I looked up, feeling annoyed. I didn't like being disturbed. Only Sara or my personal assistant, Mike Johnson was allowed to enter anytime.

My breath caught

Emily Madrigo, the girl I loved so deeply since childhood until she traveled to further her modeling career….She stood there in a cream coat, her long red hair neatly styled.

She had that same smile I remembered from college. I hadn’t seen her in person in years, only through video calls and photos from cover magazines. She looked even better than memory.

“Emily?” I stood, chair scraping. “What the hell—how did you find me here?”

She laughed softly, stepping inside and closing the door. “Surprise, darling. I asked around. You’re not exactly invisible, Mr Tom McCarthy, the famous app tech genius.”

I crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into a hug. She smelled like vanilla and expensive perfume, the way she always had. For a second I forgot the code and the deadline for my early flight back home to surprise my wife on our anniversary today..

“I am so glad to see you…You've grown,” I said, pulling away from the hug, “Take a seat.”

“I’m not staying long.” She pulled back, her big hazel eyes sparkling. “Sit.”

I gestured to the chair opposite my desk. She shook her head.

“No, thank you. I won’t be long.” She smiled slightly.

“Coffee then?” I offered, gesturing to the coffee maker. I had learnt from Sara how to operate it.

She smiled again, clutching her purse in a very cute way. “No. I just need to ask you something.”

I leaned against the desk, with my arms crossed. “Go on.”

She dropped her voice. “Are you still married to Sara?”

The question landed like a stone in still water. I exhaled. “Yes. Why?”

Emily reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, unlocked it with a quick swipe, and turned the screen toward me.

I stared at it. There was a video. Grainy at first glance.

I gasped when I saw my Sara naked on my bed with a naked man above her.

Her face was partially blurred, but I could tell her features. The little mole on her left cheek. I wouldn't fail to recognize it.

Her legs were spread in the air, welcoming the incoming c**k. Her moans filled the tiny speaker, raw and unrestrained. The strokes were deep, merciless like he's trying to crack something. She arched her back each time he thrusted deeper, her manicured fingers clutching sheets and her head thrown back.

I watched in disbelief. Tears welled up.

I couldn’t look away. I felt sharp stab inside my heart, my chest twisted in uncomfortable knots.

My stomach twisted at the sight, feeling the bile rise in my throat.

I stumbled backward and my shoulder hit the wall. The phone kept playing. The sounds kept coming.

“She betrayed you,” Emily said quietly. “All this time you thought she was the good wife, the devoted one. While you were out building an empire for her, she was spreading her legs for some other man.”

I pressed my palm to my chest. My heart hammered like it wanted out. “No. Sara wouldn’t—”

“She did.” Emily stepped closer. “Look again. See how much she enjoyed it.”

I didn’t need to look again. The image was burned behind my eyelids.

All those nights I’d come home late, exhausted, and she’d been waiting with dinner, with a smile, with open arms. I’d thought it was love. I’d thought she was mine.

And all along Sara had been laughing behind my back.

Emily’s fingers brushed my shirt, unbuttoning the top button slowly. “You deserve better, Tom. You deserve someone who only wants you.”

The video looped. Sara’s moan echoed again.

“Why are you showing me this?” My voice sounded distant and hollow.

“Because I don’t want you deceived anymore.” She leaned in, lips close to my ear. “She’s a gold-digger. She married you for the money, the status, the mansion, and when you were too busy, she found someone else to scratch the itch.”

I closed my eyes. Rage boiled under my skin. I had never raised my voice to Sara. Never laid a hand on her, but right then I wanted to break something. Anything.

Emily’s hand slid lower. “Divorce her. Let me give you what she never could.”

No one in the McCarthy line had ever divorced. It was a scandal they’d never forgive. But the video kept playing. Sara kept moaning.

Emily pressed a pen and paper into my hand. “Write her a letter. A text is too easy. She needs to feel it. Make it in such a way that she'll read over and over. Get your lawyer ready. I just want what's best for you.”

I stared at the blank page. My hand shook as I held the pen. My eyes were filled with tears I couldn't allow to fall.

I wrote every word Emily suggested, every cut she whispered. When I finished, she took the paper, folded it neatly, and slipped it into an envelope.

“Send it,” she said. “Now.”

Emily pulled me in a tight embrace, like she was shielding me from the pain the world offered.

What Tom didn't know was that he had walked into a trap, a trap that would destroy his marriage in a way he would probably never recover.

Emily had forged the video, it was edited in such a way that even experts could never tell the difference. With the help of Lucy Summers, Sara's best friend, the technical genius…they plotted the plan.

Lucy had always felt jealous of Sara's happily married life. Tom showed up as a man who cared, paid bills, gave her everything while she just stayed pretty and received his precious c**k.

Lucy wanted Sara to suffer, so when she dug into her life with Tom, she found Emily who was also having a hard time accepting that her boyfriend left her with an STD and vanished without a trace.

Emily didn't want to end up alone, so she recalled Tom's silly crush when they were kids. She plotted to use it to her advantage. Afterall, she knew he would never forget her. Or so she thought.

*****

(Back to the present)

Sara stood there in my foyer, in redress, mascara streaked, begging for my help.

“Wait…I will sign the papers and leave. But only if you help my mother and also, let me stay for a month only, at least I will have a job by then. I will not get in your way. I promise.”

I looked at her. Tears running down her face, her small plump lips trembling, the same face I used to kiss goodnight.

Part of me that never wanted to see her sad or in pain wanted to wipe those tears away and pull her close and say it was all a mistake…Something we can get through with couple therapy sessions.

But the video was still there in my head. The moans, how she put it back when it slipped out. The stranger’s hands on her body. The betrayal was unforgivable. If it meant I had to break a few promises, so be it. She didn't deserve me.

Emily stepped forward, slipped her arm through mine, pressed her body against me.

I looked at Sara’s tears and forced myself to smile at Emily. I forced myself to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer. I forced myself to lean down and kiss her temple right in front of Sara. Just to hurt her.

Sara flinched like I’d slapped her.

I almost did. Instead I said, voice flat, “You want money for your mother?”

Sara nodded, hope flickering in her eyes.

I let Emily go, walked past Sara, and stopped at the foot of the stairs.

“Cook Emily something to eat. Whatever she wants. Then run her a bath. Make it hot. Use the good oils.”

Sara stared at me. “Tom—”

“And while you’re doing that,” I continued, already turning toward the door, “I’ll go to the hospital and pay every cent they need for your mother’s surgery. All of it.”

Her breath caught. “You will?”

I looked back at her coldly and distant, the broken part of me locked away where she couldn’t reach it.

“Yes. But don’t mistake this for forgiveness. This is payment. For services rendered. For three years of lies. We will get divorced soon, then as per condition. You leave once you land a job. But you won't do it using my name, my money or my fame.”