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.

The next day, Cassandra woke with a chilling determination. If this engagement was to end, it wouldn’t be quietly. Her revenge wouldn’t come in screams or tears. No, it would be colder, more calculated.

That morning, she clung to Matthew’s arm, her eyes teary as she begged him not to leave her side.

“Can’t you stay with me today?” she whispered, her voice trembling. It was a rare moment of vulnerability and Matthew, caught off guard, softened instantly.

“Of course,” he murmured, turning off his phone to assure her of his attention.

But beneath her fragile demeanor, Cassandra was already plotting. She returned two texts to Julia while pretending to nap:

“You’ll never have Matthew. Give up before it’s too late.”

“I still love him—like the wind that travels 8,000 miles without asking for a return date.”

The lies tasted bitter on her tongue, but they served their purpose. By evening, Cassandra had set her plan into motion. Matthew, distracted by her uncharacteristic affection, had no idea what awaited him.

***

The final day arrived.

Matthew’s phone buzzed relentlessly throughout breakfast. Cassandra smiled sweetly as she reached out to hold his hand. “Ignore it,” she pleaded.

Reluctantly, he agreed, silencing the device. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to believe in her love again. But Cassandra knew better. She had seen through the lies long ago. Her revenge wasn’t just for herself—it was for every moment he had made her feel small, unwanted and replaceable.

As the day wore on, Cassandra excused herself to the garden, her mind racing with thoughts of the engagement. Her phone buzzed, this time with a damning message from Julia:

[Your precious Matthew? He told me he’d rather have no child at all than adopt one with you. Funny how he didn’t mention that to you, isn’t it?]

Cassandra’s vision blurred with rage as she remembered the doctor’s words after her accident:

“Ms. Cassandra, the damage to your reproductive organs means you may never have children.”

Matthew’s refusal to consider adoption had once seemed noble. Now, she saw it for what it was—a selfish excuse to keep her bound to his empty promises. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. If Matthew had stolen her love, her pride and her future, she would make him pay in kind.

And as she stood there, surrounded by blooming flowers, Cassandra vowed that her final act would leave a scar on Matthew’s soul—one he would carry for the rest of his life.