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.

When Mitchell caught up, Heather had already turned into the restroom.

No more than two minutes inside, Heather heard Mitchell's phone ring faintly from the other side, then the sound of him answering it quickly.

"I'll meet you in the little garden."

The footsteps receded, gradually fading into the distance.

Heather had attended countless dinners here and was well-acquainted with the layout. Hearing "the little garden", she immediately knew where Mitchell was headed.

She slipped out of the restroom, heading toward the far end of the hallway where a storage room was located. Peering through a small gap in the open window, she saw Mitchell hurrying to his destination.

Bethany was already there, waiting, and she rushed into Mitchell's arms.

Mitchell showed no resistance, pulling her close with a familiarity that made it seem like he was trying to melt her into his bones.

"You're tempting me again. Have you already forgotten about the other night when you couldn't get out of bed?" he teased.

The past few days, Mitchell had been glued to Heather's side, so she quickly understood which "other night" he was referring to. It was the night they had left the Bennetts' manor, and Mitchell didn't come home until the next morning, his body marked with love bites and scratches.

Bethany wrapped her arms around Mitchell's waist, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. He stared at her for a moment, then suddenly leaned down, kissing her fiercely, their bodies tangled together in an almost violent embrace.

The sound of their lips and teeth clashing echoed loudly in the quiet garden.

Bethany bit lightly at the corner of Mitchell's mouth. He pulled away from the kiss suddenly, wiping at the blood that had seeped from his lip.

"What are you doing? I warned you not to leave any obvious marks. Heather will cause a scene."

Nevertheless, Bethany seemed not the least bit afraid of his anger. She deliberately rubbed her body against his, the curves of her chest pressing against him.

"Just make up some excuse and get it over with. She won't suspect anything. I like it when you're this aggressive with me in bed. Do you like the maid outfit from last time? Come over tonight. I've got a surprise planned…" She whispered something in Mitchell's ear, and he stiffened, his lips pressing together tightly in frustration.

He grasped her chin and kissed her again, this time with even more intensity.

Back in the storage room, Heather stood frozen behind the window, her body feeling like ice as she watched the scene unfold.

Although she had suspected Mitchell and Bethany were involved, seeing it firsthand was far more shocking than she could have imagined.

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in someone's hand, and she had to grip the windowsill to steady herself.

After what felt like an eternity, she took a deep breath and left the storage room. By then, Mitchell and Bethany had separated, and Mitchell was searching for her.

When he spotted her, he rushed over, his forehead dotted with beads of sweat.

"Where did you go? I was about to lose my mind when I couldn't find you."

Heather's eyes deliberately flickered to the corner of his mouth where the wound was visible. "I left the restroom, and when I didn't see you, I wandered into the garden. How did you end up with a cut on your lip?"

Mitchell's expression shifted instantly to one of panic, and more sweat broke out on his forehead.

"You went to which garden?"

Heather offered a mocking smile, turning away from him as she spoke. "The one behind the house. There are lots of people there. Why are you so nervous?"

The moment she mentioned the garden behind the house, Mitchell visibly relaxed, exhaling a deep breath.

"It's nothing. I was just worried you had wandered off and I wouldn't be able to find you."

At that moment, Bethany was on stage talking about how the Bennetts had helped her over the years, her gaze frequently darting toward Heather and Mitchell.

Mitchell's eyes slid over the crowd, focusing on Bethany as the memory of her words about a surprise for him flashed through his mind.

His muscles tensed instinctively, and as he subconsciously pressed his lips together, he winced at the pain from the cut.

Only then did he remember he hadn't answered Heather's question yet.

"It's just a cold sore. I accidentally tore it while I was rubbing it. It's nothing."

Heather gave a barely audible scoff, turning on her heel. "I'm tired. I'm going back."

Mitchell's heart suddenly lurched in a way he couldn't quite understand. He grabbed Heather's wrist urgently.

"Let me tell my parents I'm leaving. I'll go with you."

A few minutes later, Mitchell and Heather left the dinner, but Mitchell brought her toward the manor.

"Mom wants us to stay at the manor for the night, so we'll head back tomorrow."

Heather didn't argue. After arriving and getting ready for bed, she lay down, physically and emotionally exhausted. It didn't take long for her to slip into a half-dreamlike state.

She could hear Mitchell's laughter in the background as he tapped away on his phone.

Eventually, there was a shift beside her.

Mitchell gently woke Heather, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Mom needs me. I'm going to talk to her. If you need anything, just call for me."

Heather murmured a soft hum, rolling over as if she were still fast asleep.

Once Mitchell had quietly left, Heather sat up.

She could hear him and Vanessa in the study, their voices muffled by the walls.

After a brief hesitation, she silently moved toward the study door. A faint light seeped through the crack, and she could hear Vanessa's voice, strained with barely-contained anger.

"How many times have I told you that Heather is a nice girl? If you're serious about her, you need to get rid of all these other women.

"But instead, you're getting more tangled up with Bethany, and now people in your circle are noticing. Have you thought about what would happen if Heather found out? What do you think she'll do if she hears about all this?

"Mitchell, you're an adult now. I don't want to lecture you, but I can't just watch you make mistakes you'll regret later, all for the moment's thrill."

Vanessa's words pierced through Heather's heart, her ears ringing with the truth of it all. It was more shocking than watching Mitchell and Bethany kissing in the garden.

She couldn't focus on anything else but the realization that Mitchell's actions had been known to Vanessa all along—and she had kept quiet.

And worse, everyone in their social circle knew about Mitchell and Bethany, while she had been left in the dark, believing that she had all his love.

What did those fake congratulations mean, then? Were they all just laughing behind her back?

The voices continued in the study, but Heather could no longer make out the words. Her legs stiffened as she turned and walked away.

Back in the bedroom, she curled into the blankets, trying to find some warmth in the cold.

It was clear now—love, too, could be faked.