Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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Every time Matthew Lawrence broke her heart, Cassandra folded a paper star.
One day, he finally asked about them. With a playful smile that didn't reach her eyes, she said, "When you hurt me for the hundredth time, your dear Julia—your sweet, devoted Cassey who loves you—will disappear forever."
At first, he laughed it off, dismissing it as one of her whims.
But the hundredth star came sooner than anyone expected.
That day, Matthew abandoned Cassandra—still groggy from anesthesia—on the cold operating table to meet Julia at a love hotel, claiming he was helping her find a lost dog. When confronted later, he had the nerve to smirk and say, "Don't be like this, Cassey. Julia's just a dog—she could never compare to you. You're my Mrs. Lawrence. Now and always."
Cassandra nodded blankly, hiding the storm inside. Only she knew the truth: she had already planned her own "death." She was leaving—for good.
Seven days later, at their engagement party, the only thing Matthew would receive was the news that Cassandra had been blown to pieces, leaving nothing but ashes and regret.
"Cassey, are you absolutely sure about this? Faking your death for this undercover mission?" Ban Richard's voice crackled through the phone, thick with worry.
"Yes," she answered flatly, standing on a wind-whipped street. Her voice was as hollow as her heart.
The decision had been made the moment she woke on that operating table and saw Julia's gloating post:
"Joy would gladly be her master's loyal dog forever—even if it means being trampled a hundred, a thousand, a million times."
The photo showed Julia in a scandalous maid outfit, an obscene leash around her neck. The clothes strewn in the background? Undeniably Matthew's.
When the police needed someone to infiltrate a transnational fraud ring, Cassandra volunteered without hesitation. This wasn't just about justice—it was her escape.
Her way to make sure Matthew lived with the weight of his betrayal forever.
That night, when she returned home soaked and shivering, Matthew dropped everything—an important meeting, his dignity—and rushed to her.
"Where's the driver? How could he let you come back like this?" His voice shook, his usual composure shattered. Even the female executives on his video call murmured about how lucky she was to have a man so devoted.
And in a twisted way, it was true. Matthew loved her—or at least, the idea of her. He memorized her allergies, cleaned her room every day for ten years, once fought through a storm to bring her purple roses on Christmas. When she had an accident, he'd sprinted through the rain, screaming, "Cassey, wait for me!"
But that same man had betrayed her three months ago. She'd walked in on him and Julia, their bodies tangled in a way that left no room for denial. And from that moment on, every time he hurt her, she folded another star.
One day, he finally asked about them. With a playful smile that didn't reach her eyes, she said, "When you hurt me for the hundredth time, your dear Julia—your sweet, devoted Cassey who loves you—will disappear forever."
At first, he laughed it off, dismissing it as one of her whims.
But the hundredth star came sooner than anyone expected.
That day, Matthew abandoned Cassandra—still groggy from anesthesia—on the cold operating table to meet Julia at a love hotel, claiming he was helping her find a lost dog. When confronted later, he had the nerve to smirk and say, "Don't be like this, Cassey. Julia's just a dog—she could never compare to you. You're my Mrs. Lawrence. Now and always."
Cassandra nodded blankly, hiding the storm inside. Only she knew the truth: she had already planned her own "death." She was leaving—for good.
Seven days later, at their engagement party, the only thing Matthew would receive was the news that Cassandra had been blown to pieces, leaving nothing but ashes and regret.
"Cassey, are you absolutely sure about this? Faking your death for this undercover mission?" Ban Richard's voice crackled through the phone, thick with worry.
"Yes," she answered flatly, standing on a wind-whipped street. Her voice was as hollow as her heart.
The decision had been made the moment she woke on that operating table and saw Julia's gloating post:
"Joy would gladly be her master's loyal dog forever—even if it means being trampled a hundred, a thousand, a million times."
The photo showed Julia in a scandalous maid outfit, an obscene leash around her neck. The clothes strewn in the background? Undeniably Matthew's.
When the police needed someone to infiltrate a transnational fraud ring, Cassandra volunteered without hesitation. This wasn't just about justice—it was her escape.
Her way to make sure Matthew lived with the weight of his betrayal forever.
That night, when she returned home soaked and shivering, Matthew dropped everything—an important meeting, his dignity—and rushed to her.
"Where's the driver? How could he let you come back like this?" His voice shook, his usual composure shattered. Even the female executives on his video call murmured about how lucky she was to have a man so devoted.
And in a twisted way, it was true. Matthew loved her—or at least, the idea of her. He memorized her allergies, cleaned her room every day for ten years, once fought through a storm to bring her purple roses on Christmas. When she had an accident, he'd sprinted through the rain, screaming, "Cassey, wait for me!"
But that same man had betrayed her three months ago. She'd walked in on him and Julia, their bodies tangled in a way that left no room for denial. And from that moment on, every time he hurt her, she folded another star.
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