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.

Cassandra couldn’t remember how things had spiraled to this point. When had their lives become entangled enough for her to end up sharing a bed with Matthew? Yet, the moment seemed less like intimacy and more like a cruel joke when Julia walked into the party.

Her arrival sent ripples through the lively gathering, silencing the room. Whispers accompanied knowing glances and some guests were even dragged away by their girlfriends, all too familiar with Julia’s reputation. Julia, with her striking allure and unabashed confidence, thrived on chaos. She had woven herself into the lives of many men in the room, leaving trails of gossip and envy.

Yet, when Julia’s gaze landed on Cassandra, her lips curved into a smile that was more predatory than friendly.

“Cassey, I envy you so much,” Julia cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “To have a fiancé no one else can steal.”

Her words carried a dangerous edge as she sat down opposite Matthew, her movements deliberately provocative. The party resumed, but Cassandra noticed the tension in Matthew’s demeanor. His usually calm and commanding presence faltered as he suddenly lowered his head, suppressing a grunt.

“What’s wrong?” Cassandra asked, concerned.

Matthew hesitated before raising his face. His composure returned quickly, though a faint redness lingered on his skin.

“I’m fine,” he replied with a forced calmness. But Cassandra caught the way his eyes flashed with anger, shooting daggers at Julia, who was now laughing uncontrollably.

The laughter only grew louder as Julia leaned against her friend, her dress slipping dangerously low. It was then that Cassandra’s gaze fell beneath the table and her blood froze. Julia’s high-heeled foot was shamelessly sliding along Matthew’s leg.

Matthew’s face was a mask of stoicism, but the redness creeping to his ears betrayed his discomfort. Cassandra’s fury boiled over.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to draw attention.

Julia’s grin widened, unapologetic. Before Matthew could respond, Cassandra bolted from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her heart was pounding as she stormed into the restroom, splashing cold water onto her face. But no amount of water could cool the searing betrayal she felt.

As she passed the men’s restroom on her way back, muffled voices caught her attention.

“I’m the one who fits you best, am I not?” Julia’s flirtatious tone was unmistakable.

Cassandra froze.

“Someone like her couldn’t handle you,” Julia continued, her voice laced with seduction.

Matthew’s growl interrupted her. “Enough! Shut up, Julia!”

But Julia’s laughter echoed, her words a dagger to Cassandra’s heart. “Matt, don’t deny it. You know I’ll always belong to you.”

The world around Cassandra blurred. She stumbled outside, her limbs numb. Rain poured down, soaking her as she wandered aimlessly. She wasn’t sure how long she walked until the screech of brakes jolted her back to reality. A car had stopped inches away from her.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” the driver yelled before speeding off. Cassandra didn’t respond. Perhaps she was, in a way. For how else could she explain her foolishness in loving someone like Matthew?

As if the night hadn’t punished her enough, a thief snatched her bag, shoving her into a puddle. Drenched and alone, she sat on the shore until dawn, her mind as turbulent as the crashing waves. She felt like a ghost—lost, homeless and invisible.

When daylight broke, Cassandra was greeted by an unexpected sight. Cabs lit up across the city with glowing messages on their dome lights: [Cassey baby, go home!]

The words followed her everywhere. Giant screens on buildings displayed the same plea:

[Cassey baby, waiting for you to come home!]

Even the radio broadcasted the desperate announcement:

“Dear Ms. Cassandra, your fiancé Mr. Lawrence is searching for you. Please contact him immediately at 156…”

Cassandra’s lips curled into a bitter smile. The rain poured harder as she trudged back, wondering what Matthew’s reaction would be when her “death” was announced in a few days.

As she approached the house, Matthew burst through the door, his eyes wild with desperation. He grabbed her, pulling her into a bone-crushing embrace.

“Cassey! Cassey…” His voice cracked. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought… I thought you’d been taken, or worse!”

His trembling hands cupped her face as tears streamed down his cheeks. The sight of him, this powerful man reduced to a vulnerable state, would have once broken her heart. Now, it only filled her with emptiness.

Two trembling drivers stood in the living room, their relief palpable at her return. Behind them, two beaten thieves lay bloodied on the floor, moaning in pain. Matthew’s voice turned cold as he promised, “Anyone who dares harm you will face my wrath.”

Cassandra’s hollow laughter filled the room. “What if the person who hurt me… is you?” she whispered under her breath, too soft for him to hear.

Half an hour earlier, Julia had sent her a message, her words venomous:

“Cassandra, it must be hard. Even when Matthew sleeps beside me, he calls out your name.”

Attached was a recording—a damning, explicit proof of their betrayal.

Cassandra didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. Instead, she saved every message, every piece of evidence. One day, these would become the knives she would plunge into Matthew’s heart.

***

Four days remained until the engagement. Cassandra accompanied Matthew to the hospital for a routine check-up. He promised her he wouldn’t leave her side this time. But halfway through, his phone began vibrating incessantly.

“Ignore it,” he said, silencing the call. But the phone continued buzzing. Ten minutes later, the hospital staff grew irritated, forcing him to step outside.

When he returned, his face was grave. Cassandra’s heart was already bracing for another betrayal.