"Ms. Longstaff, are you saying the wedding will proceed as planned, but the bride will be replaced with someone else? Is that correct?"

Faced with the staff member's puzzled expression, Heather Longstaff nodded without hesitation.

"Yes, the wedding will take place in two weeks as scheduled. I'll deliver the revised materials to you in the next few days."

"Understood. Should I inform Mr. Bennett about—"

"There's no need!"

Heather cut the other person off, her voice sharp with emotion. Noticing the startled look on the staff member's face, she quickly composed herself and explained, "He's busy. All wedding-related matters should come directly to me from now on."

This wedding was meant to be her final gift to Mitchell. And like any gift, it had to remain a surprise until the very last moment.

Heather Longstaff left the wedding planning agency and immediately booked a ticket out of Kennethville on her phone. Just as the confirmation popped up on her screen, Mitchell Bennett called.

As she answered, his familiar voice came through, tinged with a gentle warmth.

"Heather, my mom says she misses you. She asked me to bring you home for dinner tonight. She also mentioned having something to give you. Can you guess what it is?"

Everyone in Kennethville knew Mitchell as a man of cold demeanor, someone who kept people at arm's length with an air of aloofness.

Despite the constant stream of women vying for his attention, he had always reserved his tenderness exclusively for Heather.

Until today, Heather had believed in that wholeheartedly.

Their mothers were the best of friends, and Heather and Mitchell had grown up together, childhood sweethearts in every sense of the word.

But everything changed when Heather's mother passed away. Barely a month after her death, her father remarried, bringing a stepmother into the picture.

Heather's stepmother orchestrated a cruel scheme, sending her to a desolate rural town.

When Heather regained consciousness, she found herself being groped by a drunken man. Panicked, she grabbed an empty bottle from the floor and smashed it over his head.

The man convulsed on the ground for a few moments before going still. Terrified and at a loss, Heather didn't know what to do until Mitchell burst through the creaky door, scooping her into his arms.

At that moment, he seemed like a savior descending from the heavens.

Even though she was rescued, the incident left deep trauma. Mitchell stayed by her side every day, tirelessly seeking the best therapists and doing everything he could to cheer her up. Gradually, she began to heal.

His unwavering companionship melted even the coldest parts of her heart.

Yet, having witnessed her father's betrayal of her late mother, Heather had become exceedingly cautious about love. Before agreeing to be with Mitchell, she had laid everything out plainly.

"Mitchell, I can only accept undivided love. If you ever stop loving me, let's part ways amicably. But if you betray me, I will make sure you never find me again."

Mitchell had eagerly sworn an oath, both thrilled and anxious.

"Heather, I swear I will only ever love you. I promise to cherish you forever. Time will prove how deep my love is!"

His heartfelt vows from back then still rang in her ears.

But now, time had proven the opposite.

Mitchell couldn't give her the undivided love he promised. He had betrayed her and their relationship.

Last night, Heather had discovered a marriage certificate in the pocket of Mitchell's jacket. His name was on it—alongside Bethany Caldwell's.

The Bennetts had supported many underprivileged students over the years, and Bethany was one of them. Heather remembered her clearly, though not for her merits. It was her cunning nature that left an impression.

Heather had seen Bethany flirt with Mitchell, only to be met with his frosty rejection.

"Sorry, I have a girlfriend."

Mitchell's blunt dismissal had crushed Bethany's hopes, and after that, she'd mostly stayed out of Heather's sight.

But a month ago, Mitchell had brought her up again, saying Bethany's mother was gravely ill and wanted to see her daughter married before passing. To Heather's shock, Mitchell had asked for her opinion on helping Bethany.

She had refused outright, reminding him of what she'd once said when they first got together.

"I only accept love that's undivided. If you want to give part of it to someone else, we're done."

Mitchell had paled at her words and hastily sworn he would never betray her.

Heather thought that had been the end of it.

But Mitchell had gone behind her back and married Bethany in secret. He'd been hiding her away, spending nights with her, all while their own wedding was just two weeks away.

Heather's lips curled into a bitter smile. At least she had discovered the truth before the wedding.

"Heather, are you listening?" Mitchell's voice brought her back to the present.

She responded lightly, "I'm not home. Just head to the manor by yourself later; I don't need a ride."

"When did you leave? Why didn't you tell me? I could've come with you," Mitchell said, his tone full of concern.

Heather's expression grew colder as she heard the faint rustle of fabric and a woman's quiet gasp in the background.

"I was preparing a surprise for you," she said evenly. "I came to finalize some wedding details."

"What kind of surprise?" Mitchell asked, his excitement barely contained.

Heather's smile didn't reach her eyes. "If I told you now, it wouldn't be a surprise. You'll find out on the wedding day."

Mitchell chuckled warmly. "Alright, I'll look forward to it. See you tonight."

Before the call ended, she heard exaggerated kissing noises.

But Heather knew they weren't air kisses from Mitchell. He was actually kissing another woman.

Her face remained calm as she stared at the disconnected call, though a storm raged inside her.

She hoped that Mitchell would truly feel surprised when he saw everything on the wedding day.

After hanging up the phone, Heather didn't head straight to the manor. Instead, she returned home.

The 1,000-square-foot apartment, meticulously decorated over the years by her and Mitchell, exuded warmth and comfort rather than feeling cavernous.

She had once believed this place would always be their home—a sanctuary for them both. But after discovering Mitchell's betrayal last night, it was clear it no longer held that meaning.

The diamond rings meant to be exchanged on their wedding day in two weeks had already been delivered into her hands. These matching rings were something Heather had watched Mitchell design, stroke by careful stroke. She remembered how Mitchell had held her close as he eagerly explained the design.

"These rings have hidden grooves," he had said, his eyes full of hope. "When placed together, they form a heart—symbolizing that we'll never be apart."

Heather shook off the memory and, without hesitation, retrieved the rings before dialing a number.

"Hello, I'd like to schedule a delivery…"

Since Bethany would be replacing her as the bride, these rings, with all their symbolic weight, should naturally go to her.

After arranging for the rings to be delivered at 9:00 AM on the wedding day, Heather watched the courier leave with them. A faint sense of relief settled in her chest.

The apartment was filled with countless memories of her love for Mitchell. Before leaving, she resolved to restore everything to the way it was before she had ever been there.

-

When Heather arrived at the manor, the redness around her eyes had yet to fade. Vanessa Bennett, Mitchell's mother, noticed her red eyes as she walked in. Glancing behind her, Vanessa seemed puzzled when she didn't see Mitchell.

"Why are you crying? Did Mitchell upset you?"

Heather didn't know how to share her pain. No matter how kind Vanessa was to her, she would still choose her own son in the end. Forcing a smile, Heather adjusted her expression.

"No, the wind outside was strong, and it irritated my eyes."

She rubbed her eyes, wiping away stray tears in the process. Once again, Heather appeared as she always did.

Vanessa sighed in relief and chuckled. "If Mitchell mistreats you, you have to let me know. I'll straighten him out."

Not long after Heather's arrival, Mitchell's car pulled into the underground garage. When Vanessa realized he hadn't come upstairs, she asked Heather to fetch him.

In the garage, Heather spotted the only car with its lights still on. Mitchell was sitting inside, a cigarette in his hand, his eyes fixed intently on his phone screen. He didn't notice her approach.

"You're teasing me dressed like that. Looks like you don't plan on getting out of bed tomorrow," he growled.

"This is a special treat for you. It won't last forever, so don't miss out tonight," Bethany replied coyly.

Mitchell uttered under his breath, "Wait and see how I handle you tonight."

After hanging up, he lit one cigarette after another, as if trying to suppress the desire coursing through him.

This was a side of Mitchell Heather had never known—the man she had believed loved her wholly and deeply could split his affections so effortlessly and passionately.

Watching him from the shadows, Heather felt her stomach churn violently as she bit back a bitter smile. When she heard the car's engine being turned off and saw Mitchell put out his cigarette, she hurriedly got out of the garage before he opened the door.

When they returned upstairs, one after the other, the housekeeper was setting the table for dinner. Vanessa frowned at Mitchell.

"What took you so long? Heather had to go downstairs to call you up."

Mitchell froze, his expression instantly tense as he turned to Heather.

"You came to find me?" he asked, his voice tight.

Heather met his gaze calmly. "Yeah, but when I saw you on the phone, I left. Why?"

Mitchell stared at her, the tension in his expression not easing. "Did you hear who I was talking to?"

Heather felt a wave of irony wash over her but kept her face unreadable. "No. Wasn't it a client? Who else would it be?"

Her steady gaze held his, and Mitchell's stiff demeanor relaxed. He smiled warmly, the way she had always known, and gently ruffled her hair.

"No, it wasn't a client. I've been arranging a custom set of jewelry for you to wear at the charity gala next week. That was the jeweler calling. I must make sure you're the most dazzling person in the room when you're with me."

Heather remembered how Mitchell would, through Bennett Corporation, occasionally organize charity galas in her name after she was rescued years ago.

He donated all the funds raised through a foundation under her name, hoping to bring her good luck. Back then, his sincerity had deeply moved her.

Now, her response was devoid of emotion. "Do as you see fit."

-

After dinner, Vanessa brought out an exquisite wooden box. She opened it to reveal a diamond bracelet, which she placed on Heather's wrist.

"This bracelet has been passed down to the Bennetts' daughters-in-law. Finally, it's your turn to wear it," Vanessa said warmly, her gaze shifting between Heather and Mitchell with a motherly smile.

The sparkling diamonds accentuated Heather's slender, fair wrist, but she couldn't bring herself to appreciate it. Forcing a polite smile, she took the bracelet off and returned it to the box.

"I really appreciate the gesture, Mrs. Bennett, but such an important gift should wait for the wedding day."

Her firm tone left Vanessa with no choice but to agree to present it again at the ceremony.

Noticing how often Mitchell checked the time, Heather seized the opportunity to leave early.

-

On the way home, a sharp pain in her abdomen reminded her that her period had arrived early. Back at the apartment, Mitchell brought her hot water and personally helped her soak her feet, removing her shoes and socks with practiced care.

Staring at his head as he kneeled before her, Heather felt her heart twist painfully.

If he had already fallen out of love, why could he still act like this? Why was he still so gentle, so familiar, so perfect? It turned out that one could pretend to be in love.

Later, as they lay in bed, Mitchell placed a warm hand on her abdomen, soothing her discomfort.

Heather pretended to be asleep, but she knew the reason he was being so tender tonight—it was to lull her into slumber. Yet sleep eluded her.

When his phone buzzed twice softly, she felt him grab his own phone. His breathing quickened, and his hand pressed a little harder against her.

Satisfied when her breathing evened out, Mitchell crept out of bed, changed his clothes, and hurried out the door.

Standing by the window, Heather watched his car disappear into the night, her nails digging into her palms until the pain finally registered.

The next morning, Heather woke to the sound of activity in the kitchen. Mitchell was back, bustling around with enthusiasm.

As Heather stepped out of the bedroom, Mitchell glanced up and greeted her with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "Come try the banana oat cookies I just learned to make. They say it's great for soothing cramps during your period."

Heather froze momentarily, her gaze lingering on the scene before her. Then, she slowly made her way to the dining table and sat down. Her eyes searched Mitchell's face, probing for answers.

"Where did you go last night?" she asked, her tone calm but pointed.

Mitchell's cheerful expression faltered for a split second before he quickly looked away. Regaining his composure, he sat beside her, taking her hand in his own with a look of genuine concern.

"There was an emergency at work," he explained softly. "I left for a bit while you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you. Did you have a bad dream?"

The worry in his eyes was unmistakable, devoid of any pretense.

Heather's heart twisted. She couldn't understand how someone could compartmentalize love and desire, giving them to two different people. She didn't respond, letting Mitchell pull her into his arms as he whispered soothing words.

Soon, he was calling his assistant, instructing him to book an appointment and bring over her medication.

Since being rescued, Heather had relied on medication to sleep. Even then, nightmares frequently dragged her back to that horrifying night—the acrid smell of alcohol, hands stained with blood...

Mitchell, ever attentive, had spent countless nights on a makeshift bed in her room, staying close to comfort her whenever nightmares woke her. Yet, this same Mitchell, who had cared for her so deeply, had betrayed her.

Heather's gaze drifted to his face, where a faint, almost imperceptible kiss mark lingered near his jawline. Normally, Mitchell dressed casually at home and left the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the tantalizing hollow of his throat. But today, he'd buttoned up all the way to his collar.

As he moved while baking earlier, his rolled-up sleeves revealed a faint, unmistakable scratch.

Mitchell seemed oblivious to the clues that had already exposed him.

He picked out a few cookies and brought them to Heather. The buttery aroma hit her nose, but instead of comfort, it churned her stomach when she thought of the marks on Mitchell's body. Overwhelmed, she pushed him aside and bolted to the bathroom.

Mitchell followed, his face etched with concern. As he wiped the corners of her mouth with a tissue, Heather snapped, shoving his hand away.

"Don't touch me!" she cried.

Mitchell froze mid-motion, his hand suspended in the air. His voice was low and uncertain. "Heather, did I do something wrong?"

She steadied her breathing, forcing herself to calm down. "No, I just read a novel that hit a little too close to home. I ended up projecting the character onto you."

Relief washed over Mitchell's face. He stepped closer and gently wiped the water droplets from her cheeks. Smiling faintly, he teased, "What kind of novel got you that worked up?"

Heather met his gaze evenly. "It's about a couple everyone envies. But the man cheats on the woman when their relationship is tested by time. He wants to have both but ends up losing everything. Mitchell… would you ever be like him?"

Mitchell's hand trembled slightly before he quickly steadied it. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he murmured, "Novels aren't real. No one could ever come between us. I'd never fall for someone else, Heather. You have to trust in my love for you."

His words were resolute, though it was unclear whether he was trying to convince Heather or himself.

Later, Mitchell took Heather to the hospital for a checkup. Noticing her low spirits, he stayed close to her side for the following days, refusing to leave her alone for even a moment.

The charity gala arrived quickly. Mitchell took Heather to pick out a gown. She browsed disinterestedly until her gaze lingered on a dark, elegant dress.

Noticing her interest, Mitchell's voice softened. "Do you like it? Try it on. If it suits you, I'll have them send it to the house."

Before Heather could respond, a sales associate approached, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Ms. Longstaff, but this dress has already been reserved. May I recommend another style?"

Mitchell's expression darkened as he fixed his gaze on the associate. "Check if the client is willing to give it up. If they agree, I'll provide them with a new dress for free."

The associate hesitated, glancing at Heather before leaning toward Mitchell and whispering, "This dress was reserved by Ms. Caldwell."

Though her voice was barely audible, Heather caught every word.

She turned to Mitchell and saw the flicker of emotions that crossed his face. It was almost laughable.

"It's just a dress," he said, trying to smooth things over. "I can convince her to let you have it, okay?"

Heather shook her head, her tone indifferent. "I was just looking. I'm not interested in taking something that someone else has claimed—whether it's a dress or anything else."

Mitchell stiffened at the double meaning behind her words. A fleeting sense of panic crossed his face before he quickly buried it.

Heather walked on, seemingly determined to choose a different dress. Suppressing the unknown feeling inside him, Mitchell hurriedly caught up to her.

Heather chose a different gown, a blue one Mitchell had suggested. While she was in the fitting room, her phone screen lit up with a notification. [Countdown: Seven days.]