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.]

Mitchell stared at the notification on the screen, unease creeping into his chest again.

Just as he reached for Heather's phone to see what it was about, the dressing room curtain suddenly swished open, and Heather stepped out.

The gown she wore complemented the gemstone jewelry Mitchell had chosen for her perfectly, adding an ethereal glow to her already stunning beauty.

Mitchell forgot all about the countdown on her phone. His eyes lit up, transfixed by her.

"Heather, I'm so lucky to have you."

In the past, Heather would have blushed under the intensity of his gaze, her heart racing.

But now, her expression remained calm. She avoided his gaze and felt no flicker of emotion in her chest.

Mitchell leaned in to kiss her, but she subtly turned her head, sidestepping him.

"Let's go. We're running late," she said.

As she picked up her phone, Mitchell's mind returned to the countdown he'd glimpsed earlier. His brow furrowed as he spoke, "I saw a countdown on your phone—seven days. What's it about?"

Heather froze for a moment, a flicker of panic darting through her eyes before she quickly regained her composure.

She had no intention of letting Mitchell discover her plans to leave.

"It's the wedding day countdown. Have you forgotten?" she replied, meeting his gaze with apparent ease.

Mitchell's face betrayed a flicker of guilt, and he quickly brushed off the moment.

Before the gala began, the hall was already abuzz, packed with guests chatting animatedly.

Mitchell draped a shawl over Heather's shoulders as a chill from the air conditioning set in.

The small gesture didn't go unnoticed. Women around them looked on enviously, while Mitchell's friends and business partners teased with knowing smiles.

"Mr. Bennett, you're so devoted to Ms. Longstaff. We can't find a more perfect couple in all of Kennethville. I'll definitely be there to celebrate your wedding next week."

"Mr. Bennett, you're second to none in spoiling your fiancée. If this were a competition, you'd definitely win!"

"Exactly! Mr. Bennett is the ideal husband. What woman in Kennethville wouldn't envy Ms. Longstaff?"

The air buzzed with compliments about how perfect they looked together. Mitchell smiled, and the cold, distant look that usually kept people at arm's length softened just a little.

Even though he knew it was all a calculated attempt to win his favor, Mitchell still found it quite pleasing. He didn't turn anyone away, regardless of who came to greet him.

People found ways to get closer to Mitchell, and flattering words came pouring out without hesitation.

Heather's head throbbed with the incessant chatter. It buzzed in her ears, leaving her dizzy.

And she had no interest in hearing congratulatory remarks from people who didn't know the truth.

Noticing her growing discomfort, Mitchell waved the crowd away and led her to a quieter corner.

Their reprieve didn't last long. Bethany, dressed in a sleek black gown, approached with an air of practiced grace.

"Mr. Bennett, Ms. Longstaff, it's been a while," Bethany greeted, her voice carrying a deliberate sweetness.

Bethany was here as a guest speaker, a representative of the charity supported by the Bennetts over the years.

Heather didn't want to engage in pleasantries. She pretended not to notice and kept her eyes fixed on her phone.

Bethany took a step closer, her voice dripping with an insincere apology.

"Ms. Longstaff, are you still upset with me? I want to apologize for the last time. I was desperate and thought asking Mr. Bennett to pretend to marry me would help.

"But Mr. Bennett turned me down, and I've moved on. I even have a boyfriend now. Let's put the past behind us, shall we?"

Heather caught the mocking undertone in Bethany's words. There wasn't a hint of genuine remorse, only veiled provocation.

Mitchell noticed Bethany's smug tone, too, and his expression darkened. He snapped at her impatiently, "Know your place. Heather doesn't like you, so stay away."

Bethany let out a coquettish laugh. "She might not like me, but some people do," she teased, casting a bold look at Mitchell and winking.

Mitchell swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He grabbed his glass and downed the drink in one gulp, avoiding her gaze.

Heather watched the exchange, her chest tightening as if a cold hand had clenched her heart. Without a word, she stood and headed toward the restroom.

Mitchell quickly followed, leaving Bethany behind, now surrounded by a group of admirers.

"Bethany, your dress is stunning! And those earrings—gorgeous!" someone gushed.

Bethany tilted her head proudly. "Of course. My boyfriend gave me these. Only the best for me."

Her boast drew another round of admiring murmurs.

"Those earrings look like they're from the same set as Ms. Longstaff's jewelry. Maybe your boyfriend and Mr. Bennett bought them from the same store."

Heather paused mid-step, her peripheral vision catching the glint of her diamond bracelet. She yanked it off and clenched it tightly in her fist, the stones digging into her palm until it hurt.