Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
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"Cassey, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here with you."
Cassandra let herself relax, her lashes fluttering shut.
Matthew had no way of knowing—no way of foreseeing—that those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. That they would become the cruelest irony, the final thread in the unraveling of Cassandra's fate.
He had watched her take the sleeping pills, the smooth, practiced motion of her hand as she swallowed them. But it didn't alarm him. Lately, she'd been complaining about sleepless nights. It made sense—just a harmless way to rest.
With misplaced ease, Matthew turned on his phone. Instantly, it lit up—a flood of notifications, missed calls, and messages from Julia.
Matt, you're not really leaving me, are you?
Matt, I'll be good! I'll obey you, I swear—I'll never even look at another man again. Please don't abandon me…
Matthew! You were the one who chased me, who begged me to stay! And now, because I loved you, I live like a dog in the gutter. Is this what you wanted?
His pulse spiked, heart hammering as he scrolled through the torrent of texts. Then—the most recent message, timestamped just twenty minutes ago—froze him in place:
Matthew, I've slit my wrists. If you're going to leave me, I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life in agony, knowing you drove me to my death.
Attached was a photo. Julia lay in a bathtub, water stained crimson, her slackened face framed by bloodied wrists. The cuts were jagged, visceral—searing themselves into his mind.
His breath hitched. Heart slamming against his ribs, he bolted toward the hotel—then stopped dead. A cold dread coiled in his gut as he turned back to the car.
Quietly, he retrieved Cassandra's sleeping pills. After barking strict orders at the driver to stay with her, he sprinted toward Julia.
When he found her, she was alive—but hysterical. Screaming. Sobbing. A storm of emotions threatening to drown everything in its wake.
"You want me to go to the hospital? Fine!" Julia shrieked. "But only if you promise to marry me!"
Matthew clenched his jaw, fury simmering beneath his forced calm. But as her cries grew louder, he relented. He called an ambulance, even flagged down a driver to help.
"This'll only take a minute," he muttered. "It's just one block from Cassey. She'll be fine."
They lifted Julia into the ambulance. As they strapped her in, she coughed violently—blood speckling her lips.
"The patient's in critical emotional distress," the paramedic warned. "She needs someone with her to stay stable."
Matthew hesitated, one foot already out the door. Through the small rear window, he could still see Cassandra's car—moving steadily down the street.
Then his gaze locked onto something else.
A figure with shockingly bright yellow hair—Thomas. The man strolled casually, glancing back at the car with a smirk of familiarity.
Matthew's chest tightened. A sudden, irrational storm of jealousy and betrayal clouded his mind. She didn't even wait for me to leave before running to him?
Bitter acid rose in his throat as he forced his eyes away. After a long pause, he turned to the driver, voice low and icy.
"Follow them. Keep her safe."
Then the ambulance sped off.
Minutes later, just as they were leaving Mavel District, a deafening explosion split the air. The ground shook—a monstrous roar, flames and smoke erupting in the distance, painting the sky in hellish orange.
Cassandra stood outside her car, staring at the inferno with unflinching calm.
The chemical factory was burning.
She cast one last glance in the direction Matthew had vanished. Her eyes held no sorrow, no anger—only quiet, unshakable resolve.
As the car door closed behind her, it severed the last fragile thread between them.
"Matthew," she whispered, voice soft but steel-edged. "After tonight, our paths will never cross again. Yours is a road of endless regret. Mine leads to a place where you no longer exist."
Meanwhile, in the ambulance, Matthew's chest seized—a sudden, inexplicable pain, sharp enough to make him clutch at his heart.
He turned his head, trying to shake the unease. His fingers dug into the seat as the question clawed at him:
What's wrong with me? Why does it feel like something's breaking…?
But no answer came.
And far behind, in Mavel District, the flames raged on.
Cassandra let herself relax, her lashes fluttering shut.
Matthew had no way of knowing—no way of foreseeing—that those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. That they would become the cruelest irony, the final thread in the unraveling of Cassandra's fate.
He had watched her take the sleeping pills, the smooth, practiced motion of her hand as she swallowed them. But it didn't alarm him. Lately, she'd been complaining about sleepless nights. It made sense—just a harmless way to rest.
With misplaced ease, Matthew turned on his phone. Instantly, it lit up—a flood of notifications, missed calls, and messages from Julia.
Matt, you're not really leaving me, are you?
Matt, I'll be good! I'll obey you, I swear—I'll never even look at another man again. Please don't abandon me…
Matthew! You were the one who chased me, who begged me to stay! And now, because I loved you, I live like a dog in the gutter. Is this what you wanted?
His pulse spiked, heart hammering as he scrolled through the torrent of texts. Then—the most recent message, timestamped just twenty minutes ago—froze him in place:
Matthew, I've slit my wrists. If you're going to leave me, I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life in agony, knowing you drove me to my death.
Attached was a photo. Julia lay in a bathtub, water stained crimson, her slackened face framed by bloodied wrists. The cuts were jagged, visceral—searing themselves into his mind.
His breath hitched. Heart slamming against his ribs, he bolted toward the hotel—then stopped dead. A cold dread coiled in his gut as he turned back to the car.
Quietly, he retrieved Cassandra's sleeping pills. After barking strict orders at the driver to stay with her, he sprinted toward Julia.
When he found her, she was alive—but hysterical. Screaming. Sobbing. A storm of emotions threatening to drown everything in its wake.
"You want me to go to the hospital? Fine!" Julia shrieked. "But only if you promise to marry me!"
Matthew clenched his jaw, fury simmering beneath his forced calm. But as her cries grew louder, he relented. He called an ambulance, even flagged down a driver to help.
"This'll only take a minute," he muttered. "It's just one block from Cassey. She'll be fine."
They lifted Julia into the ambulance. As they strapped her in, she coughed violently—blood speckling her lips.
"The patient's in critical emotional distress," the paramedic warned. "She needs someone with her to stay stable."
Matthew hesitated, one foot already out the door. Through the small rear window, he could still see Cassandra's car—moving steadily down the street.
Then his gaze locked onto something else.
A figure with shockingly bright yellow hair—Thomas. The man strolled casually, glancing back at the car with a smirk of familiarity.
Matthew's chest tightened. A sudden, irrational storm of jealousy and betrayal clouded his mind. She didn't even wait for me to leave before running to him?
Bitter acid rose in his throat as he forced his eyes away. After a long pause, he turned to the driver, voice low and icy.
"Follow them. Keep her safe."
Then the ambulance sped off.
Minutes later, just as they were leaving Mavel District, a deafening explosion split the air. The ground shook—a monstrous roar, flames and smoke erupting in the distance, painting the sky in hellish orange.
Cassandra stood outside her car, staring at the inferno with unflinching calm.
The chemical factory was burning.
She cast one last glance in the direction Matthew had vanished. Her eyes held no sorrow, no anger—only quiet, unshakable resolve.
As the car door closed behind her, it severed the last fragile thread between them.
"Matthew," she whispered, voice soft but steel-edged. "After tonight, our paths will never cross again. Yours is a road of endless regret. Mine leads to a place where you no longer exist."
Meanwhile, in the ambulance, Matthew's chest seized—a sudden, inexplicable pain, sharp enough to make him clutch at his heart.
He turned his head, trying to shake the unease. His fingers dug into the seat as the question clawed at him:
What's wrong with me? Why does it feel like something's breaking…?
But no answer came.
And far behind, in Mavel District, the flames raged on.
End of Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé Chapter 10. Continue reading Chapter 11 or return to Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé book page.