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.

The call came abruptly. Matthew's brows furrowed as he glanced at his phone, a tension tightening around him.

“There’s an issue with the company,” he muttered, his voice unusually low. “I need to go.”

Cassandra barely had time to process his words before he bolted out the door, jacket forgotten on the chair.

She stared after him, the sting of abandonment all too familiar now. Alone in the sterile hospital room, she tried to focus on the doctor’s words: the polyp removal had been a success. Yet, it felt like more than just a surgery. Something else had been severed—her faith, her love, her heart.

Her steps echoed hollowly in the hospital corridors as she wandered aimlessly. But at the far end of the hallway, her world tilted.

Matthew stood there, supporting Julia, who was leaning against him with exaggerated frailty. They emerged from the obstetrics and gynecology department, their connection impossible to mistake.

Julia spotted her first. With a coy gleam in her eye, she wrapped her arms around Matthew’s neck. The tenderness Cassandra thought was hers alone spilled effortlessly into Julia’s embrace.

“Matt,” Julia purred, her voice sugar-coated poison, “I was heartbroken when we lost the baby. But it’s okay—we’ll have plenty of children in the future.”

Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat. Julia’s gaze locked on hers as she pressed her lips against Matthew’s. He didn’t push her away—just stood there, frozen and absent-minded.

Then, like a snap of a whip, he grabbed Julia by the collar, his tone venomous. “If you ever go near another man again, I’ll break your legs.”

Julia’s lips curved into a wicked smile, her voice sickly sweet as she nipped playfully at his ear. “Don’t worry, master. I’ll be your loyal dog forever.”

It was like being plunged into a glacier. Cassandra’s mind reeled, her body numb. The wind outside howled as she staggered blindly through the halls, feeling as though the universe itself had lost its love.

***

Later that evening, Cassandra met Mr. Ban in a dimly lit corner of the city. The plan for her staged “death” was almost finalized.

“It’s all set,” Mr. Ban said, his tone clipped. “The explosion will take place at the abandoned chemical factory on Mavel Street.”

Cassandra nodded. Coincidentally, Mavel Street was where Julia had once paraded her affair with Matthew. It felt almost poetic to choose that location.

She returned home to find Matthew planning their engagement with feverish dedication. Every detail, from the venue’s decorations to the engraved ten-carat pink diamond ring, was handpicked by him.

At the jewelry store, as the staff fawned over the massive diamond on her finger, Julia appeared, her arrival as brazen as always.

“Whoa,” Julia said, her tone dripping with mockery. “What a beautiful ring. Why didn’t Mr. Lawrence give one to me?”

Matthew’s eyes darkened. “You have no right to compare yourself to my fiancée. Get out before I have you thrown out.”

But Julia only smirked, dodging his attempt to retrieve the ring from her grasp. Her laughter was a dagger, her next words aimed to wound. “It seems Mr. Lawrence’s stamina isn’t what it used to be. Poor Madam Cassey must be so disappointed.”

Cassandra clenched her fists. She smiled coldly, her voice sharper than steel. “You’re right, Ms. Julia. The ring you’re holding is pretty. But it’s superficial—likely to leave scars before it ever feels comfortable. Unlike the timeless piece I have, which endures.”

She turned to Matthew, her voice softening as she addressed him. “Don’t you agree, Matt?”

Matthew froze, startled by the term of endearment he hadn’t heard in months. A flicker of emotion crossed his face, a mix of longing and disbelief. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

That night, Cassandra’s suspicions were confirmed when she saw Julia’s post online: a picture of her flaunting a ten-carat pink diamond identical to Cassandra’s, along with the caption, "Ten-carat diamonds—so ordinary, right?"

But what truly broke her was the engraving on Julia’s ring: Love never fails. Matt Bros will always love Julia.

Matt Bros. The name Matthew had used before they met. The name tied to the darkest chapter of his past.

Cassandra stared at the words, each one cutting deeper than the last. Love never fails? How cruel, then, that hers had been left to bleed dry.

The engagement day loomed closer, yet Cassandra felt like a ghost haunting her own life. Every step she took was weighed down by the growing arsenal of evidence against Matthew. She would endure this betrayal for now, but when the time came, she would strike with precision.

It wasn’t long before Julia found another chance to flaunt her dominance. At the engagement venue, she sauntered in, dressed to turn heads, her every move a deliberate challenge to Cassandra.

“You look lovely today,” Julia sneered. “Though I must say, age doesn’t flatter everyone.”

Cassandra’s smile didn’t waver. “And you’re as bold as ever, Ms. Julia. I do hope you’re enjoying your youth—it fades so quickly.”

The tension was palpable, a storm brewing between them. But Cassandra didn’t care. She had already decided. Soon, neither Julia nor Matthew would have any power over her.

As she watched Julia prance about with her usual arrogance, Cassandra thought of Mavel Street and the explosion waiting to erase her from this nightmare. A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Just a little longer.

Perhaps Matthew had been bound to Julia long before Cassandra even stepped into his life. Time seemed to freeze as this realization hit her, a crushing weight settling over her heart. It wasn’t pain—no, it was something heavier, something suffocating. If Matthew and Julia had known each other for so long, then what were these seven years between her and him?

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Seven years... a cruel joke.

On the second-to-last day before the engagement, Matthew took Cassandra to The Lawrence Family residence for an evening of opera with his parents. The melodious singing filled the room, but Cassandra struggled to stay awake. The heavy atmosphere only amplified her restlessness, so she stepped outside to clear her head.

As she checked her phone, her eyes froze on a post from Julia, uploaded just a minute ago: “Boyfriend is so annoying today, insisting on taking me to meet his parents.”

The location? Near The Lawrence Family mansion.

Her fingers went numb as her mind spun. Her breathing quickened as her phone buzzed again. Another notification—this time, a private message from Julia.

“Guess where I am.”

Attached was a photo. The angle was unmistakable; it was taken inside the opera house, from under the same red silk-covered table Cassandra and Matthew were sitting at earlier.

Cassandra’s heart pounded as panic set in. A moment later, she felt a strange sensation—a hand brushing against her leg beneath the table. Her breath hitched as she froze in disbelief. It wasn’t Matthew. Her wide eyes darted to him, only to see his face darkened with anger. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, repeatedly trying to push away the hand that persisted. Julia, bold and unashamed, was under the table.

Cassandra’s body trembled with fury. She slammed the table, her voice breaking the tension in the room.

“Housekeeper! There seems to be a rat under the table!”

Gasps rippled through the audience. The housekeeper approached hesitantly, but before he could lift the tablecloth, an authoritative voice rang out.

“I’ll handle it,” said Aunt Lawrence, stepping forward. Her calm, commanding demeanor silenced everyone.

Aunt Lawrence bent down, her gaze piercing as she lifted the tablecloth. Seconds felt like hours. Her expression shifted subtly, but she quickly straightened, brushing off the incident.

“There’s no rat. Just a few pesky mosquitoes. Nothing to worry about,” she said with feigned composure.

Before Cassandra could protest, Aunt Lawrence pulled her aside, murmuring about leaving early. Cassandra’s confusion deepened as the event unfolded. What game was Aunt Lawrence playing? And why was everyone, even the servants, complicit in covering up Julia’s outrageous behavior?

Later that night, Cassandra stood alone in her room, staring blankly at her phone. A new message appeared from Julia:

“He says I’m not worthy of stepping into The Lawrence Family home. Funny, isn’t it? Because tonight, I showed him exactly what he needs the most: me. Not you.”

Her chest tightened, her grip on the phone unsteady. For the first time, she realized the depth of her isolation. Everyone around her—the servants, Aunt Lawrence, even Matthew—had known. They had all been in on this cruel game, leaving her to play the fool.