Every time Matthew Lawrence hurt her, Cassandra folded a star.
One day, Matthew asked her what the stars meant. With a playful tone, Cassandra replied, “When you’ve hurt me 100 times for your dear Julia, Cassey, who loves you, will cease to exist.”
At first, he laughed it off, thinking it was just one of her silly little games.
But the 100th star came faster than anyone expected.
That day, Matthew had gone to a love hotel with Julia, supposedly to retrieve her lost dog. He left Cassandra, still groggy from anesthesia, alone on the cold operating table. Later, when confronted, he had the audacity to smile and say, “Cassey, don’t be upset. Julia’s just a dog—she’ll never be qualified to compare to you. You’re my Mrs. Lawrence. Now and forever.”
Cassandra responded with an indifferent nod, hiding the storm brewing inside her. Only she knew the truth: she had already arranged for her “death.” She was leaving—for good.
At the engagement party seven days later, the only thing Matthew would receive was the news that Cassandra had been blown to pieces, leaving nothing but ashes and regrets.
“Cassey, are you absolutely sure you want to fake your death and take on this final undercover mission?” Ban Richard’s voice crackled through the phone, heavy with concern.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said firmly, standing on a desolate, windy street. Her voice sounded as hollow as she felt.
The decision was made the moment she woke up on that cold operating table and saw Julia’s smug post on social media:
Joy is willing to be her master’s loyal dog for the rest of her life, even if it means being trampled on a hundred times, a thousand times, or a million times.
The accompanying photo showed Julia in a provocative maid outfit, her neck wrapped in an erotic leash. The scattered clothes in the background were unmistakably Matthew’s.
The police had been searching for someone to infiltrate a transnational telecom fraud ring and Cassandra’s clean record made her the perfect candidate. She agreed without hesitation. This mission wasn’t just about justice; it was her escape.
Her way to leave Matthew with a lifetime of guilt.
***
When she returned home that night, drenched from the rain and shivering, Matthew rushed to her side. He dropped an important meeting without a second thought, pulling her into his arms with such desperation it was almost laughable.
“Where’s the driver? How could he let you come back like this?” he demanded, his voice trembling. His usually composed demeanor was in shambles. Even the female executives on the video call couldn’t help but remark on how lucky Cassandra was to have a man so devoted to her.
And it was true, in a way. Matthew loved her—or at least, the version of her he believed he loved. He knew her allergies, cleaned her room daily for ten years and once braved a storm to bring her purple roses for Christmas. When she had an accident, he raced through torrential rain, his cries of “Cassey, wait for me!” echoing through the night.
But that same man had betrayed her three months ago. She had walked in on him and Julia, their intimacy undeniable. From that day forward, every time he hurt her, she folded another star.
***
Now, as she stared at the jar filled with 100 stars, she felt a strange sense of closure. The stars weren’t just a symbol of her pain—they were her countdown. And now, the countdown was over.
Soon, Matthew would lose her forever. Not to death, but to the shadows where she could finally find peace. She wasn’t the naive girl who believed in his sweet words anymore. She was Cassandra: resilient, determined and ready to start over.
Even if it meant leaving behind the love that had once consumed her.
She found them. Not just anywhere, but in an erotic hotel, barely a kilometer away from her.
At that moment, Cassandra felt her heart break completely. The fragile thread of hope she had been clinging to snapped.
When she returned, drenched in the rain, everyone expected her to break down. To throw herself into Matthew's arms and sob, demanding answers. But she did none of that.
Instead, she hid her wounds deep inside and walked away, silent and alone.
Matthew, on the other hand, had already rehearsed his excuses. He had assumed that Cassandra would react as she always did: throwing a tantrum, questioning him and crying about why he had abandoned her. Perhaps she’d remind him of the time he left her alone at the hospital for "urgent business matters." But this time, she didn’t.
Expressionless, she brushed past him. Her voice was eerily calm.
"No harm done," she said. "I just felt like walking in the rain."
She didn’t even take the towel he offered. Instead, she lowered her gaze and slipped out of her wet, ill-fitting high heels.
For the first time, Matthew was taken aback. Cassandra’s quietness unsettled him. He reached out again, his voice soft, coaxing.
“If you want to get wet in the rain, then let me join you.”
She let out a bitter laugh and sidestepped his outstretched hand. Her words were cold, detached.
“No need.”
Then, she added, as if sealing their fates, “There’s no need… not anymore.”
Her indifference sent a jolt of panic through Matthew. He froze. He’d never seen her like this before. For the first time, he didn’t rush off to his pressing meeting or heed his assistant’s calls. Instead, he stayed by Cassandra’s side, desperate and uneasy. His voice trembled as he whispered:
“Cassey, did I… do something wrong?”
Cassandra’s gaze met his. The man who once treated her like his everything—the man who claimed he couldn’t live without her—now only looked repulsive to her. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her voice.
"Were you with Julia today?"
The question dropped like a heavy stone in a still lake, shattering the silence.
Matthew’s face darkened. His voice, low and defensive, broke the tension.
"Did Julia fill your head with nonsense again? Cassey, listen to me. I was heading to a meeting when she insisted on getting in my car. She said she was looking for her dog… What was I supposed to do? Kick her out?"
He sounded guilty, his words rushed and uneven.
“We’re all in the same circle of friends. You know how it is. It would’ve been rude to refuse.”
He hesitated, then softened his tone.
“Cassey, believe me. There’s nothing between us. It was just a ride.”
Cassandra understood perfectly now. They had gone to an *erotic hotel* to look for a dog. And even with an empty box of condoms lying around, they were somehow “innocent.”
Matthew’s voice turned tender as he leaned closer. His gaze, full of affection, sought hers.
“Cassey, don’t worry. Julia is nothing compared to you. She’s not worth it. In seven days, we’ll be engaged. Trust me, okay? You’re my Mrs. Lawrence… the only one I’ll ever love.”
Cassandra smiled faintly, but her eyes remained calm, distant. How could someone love her so wholeheartedly with one half of his heart while tearing her apart with the other? His assurances sounded convincing, but to Cassandra, they were just words—empty, meaningless.
She gave no answer.
Only Cassandra knew the truth: the organization had arranged for her to fake her own death. There would be no engagement, no future with Matthew. Seven days from now, on their engagement day, all he would receive was the news of her "death" in an explosion. There would be no body left to bury.
The next morning, the nanny greeted her with an update.
“Mr. Lawrence worked late into the night after his meeting. He’s worried about you, afraid you’d do something rash. He barely slept on the sofa outside your room and left early this morning to buy your favorite lasagna jars.”
Cassandra stirred her cup of milk, her expression blank. This was just like Matthew. The ruthless businessman, feared in the corporate world, would transform into a doting boyfriend at home—cooking for her, pampering her, rubbing her feet. He was attentive to the point of perfection.
When Matthew returned, carrying the lasagna jars, the nanny couldn’t help but sigh.
“Mr. Lawrence is such a good husband to be. I’ve never seen a man this considerate.”
Cassandra forced a polite smile but said nothing. Even as they sat across from each other during breakfast, an unusual silence lingered between them.
Finally, Matthew broke it. His gaze was intense, his voice low but tinged with vulnerability.
“Cassey, please don’t interact with that punk anymore, okay?”
His words took her by surprise, but he continued, softening his tone.
“Every time I see him giving you something, I’m terrified. I’m scared you’ll leave me for him.”
A bitter smile crossed Cassandra’s lips. The "punk" he was referring to was actually his estranged half-brother, Thomas lawrence. Disguised as a man, Thomas had been searching for his sister while secretly working as an informant for the White Team—a role Cassandra couldn’t reveal to protect her identity.
Three months ago, Matthew had caught her with Thomas. Despite her explanations, he hadn’t believed her. That night, he had drowned himself in alcohol and slept with Julia.
At a party later that evening, Julia arrived uninvited, her entrance drawing everyone’s attention. Her dress clung to her figure, the marks on her skin visible beneath the thin fabric. Cassandra felt Matthew stiffen beside her, his breath hitching as Julia sauntered into the room.
Once, he had scorned Julia, warning Cassandra to avoid her. Yet now, his contradictions spoke volumes. Cassandra’s heart ached as she realized the depth of his betrayal.
