Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé - Chapter 12: Chapter 12
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Matthew couldn't contain the raw, guttural scream that ripped from his throat.
She was still wearing them—the same earrings from their last meeting, now blackened and warped by the flames. The ones he'd fastened onto her himself. And the pink diamond ring on her finger? The very one she'd picked out just weeks ago, her face glowing with joy in the jewelry store.
That ring had meant everything to her. She never took it off—not to sleep, not even to shower.
Yesterday, she had been warm in his arms.
Alive.
Now, she was gone. Stolen away by fate's cruel hand, ripped from the world forever.
Matthew's face twisted with anguish and rage. Tears streaked down his cheeks as his knees hit the ground, his body shaking violently. His broken sobs filled the sterile room, a haunting echo of the emptiness she left behind.
Mr. Ban stepped forward, his expression somber. In his hands was a scorched phone.
"This was Miss Cassandra's," he said quietly, offering it to Matthew. "They found it at the fire scene. She left it behind… for you."
Matthew's fingers trembled as he took it, his vision blurring.
Mr. Ban hesitated before continuing, his voice heavy. "Miss Cassandra… she didn't die right away."
Matthew's breath caught. His blood turned to ice.
"She held on. Somehow, she survived until the firefighters arrived. In her last moments… she kept calling your name. Over and over."
A sharp pause. Then, softer: "But she never got to see you. That was all she wanted."
Each word was a knife to Matthew's chest. He couldn't breathe.
"Cassey…" His voice cracked, raw and broken. Then, with a roar that shook the walls, he screamed her name.
"CASSANDRAA!"
His fists slammed into the concrete floor—once, twice, again and again, until his knuckles split open. The pain barely registered. He needed it. Needed something, anything, to drown out the guilt and grief tearing him apart.
Mr. Ban watched in grim silence. He moved as if to stop him, then stopped himself. There was no point. Matthew was beyond reason, lost in a storm of his own torment.
Only when his body gave out, when his hands were bloody and his strength gone, did Mr. Ban signal for others to drag him away.
Days later, Cassandra's belongings were delivered to Matthew.
He sat alone in the empty house, staring blankly at the remnants of her life—charred jewelry, fragments of what once was. His hand hovered over them, shaking, before he pulled back.
He couldn't even cry anymore.
The Lawrence family, worried for his sanity, sent a doctor to sedate him. The drugs dulled his exhaustion, but the agony remained. Even unconscious, he clutched her phone like a lifeline, refusing to let go.
"Will he be okay?" Julia's voice wavered, her face a mask of false concern.
Matthew's aunt scoffed. "He's always been logical. He won't let emotions rule him for long." Her tone turned icy. "Besides, it's over. Cassandra's gone. Nothing can change that. Stay close, and he'll move on soon enough."
Taking the words to heart, Julia wasted no time erasing every trace of Cassandra from the house. Photos, keepsakes, mementos—gone.
She replaced them with her own things, redecorating the villa in her image. Standing in the newly sanitized space, she smiled, triumphant. Humming to herself, she prepared millet porridge, eager to play the doting caretaker.
But when she stepped into his room, tray in hand, her blood ran cold.
Matthew was gone.
A deafening roar shook the house.
"WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO THROW CASSEY'S THINGS AWAY?!"
Matthew's voice was pure fury, dark and lethal.
"FIND THEM. ALL OF YOU. IF A SINGLE THING IS MISSING, I'LL MAKE YOU PAY—WITH YOUR LIVES!"
Julia's hands trembled. The bowl slipped, shattering on the floor, scalding porridge splashing onto her legs. She shrieked, clutching her burned skin—
But the pain was nothing compared to the look in Matthew's eyes when they locked onto hers.
Cold. Deadly.
She stumbled back, choking back a gasp.
Matthew stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. Every muscle in his body was coiled with barely restrained violence.
"You think you can replace her?" His voice was a venomous whisper.
Julia's pulse pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
"Let me make this clear," he hissed, the words sharp as a blade. "Cassandra is irreplaceable. And if you ever touch her things again…"
He didn't need to finish. The threat hung in the air, suffocating.
For the first time, Julia realized—this wasn't the Matthew she thought she knew.
This was a man destroyed by loss.
And his love for Cassandra had turned into something terrifying.
She was still wearing them—the same earrings from their last meeting, now blackened and warped by the flames. The ones he'd fastened onto her himself. And the pink diamond ring on her finger? The very one she'd picked out just weeks ago, her face glowing with joy in the jewelry store.
That ring had meant everything to her. She never took it off—not to sleep, not even to shower.
Yesterday, she had been warm in his arms.
Alive.
Now, she was gone. Stolen away by fate's cruel hand, ripped from the world forever.
Matthew's face twisted with anguish and rage. Tears streaked down his cheeks as his knees hit the ground, his body shaking violently. His broken sobs filled the sterile room, a haunting echo of the emptiness she left behind.
Mr. Ban stepped forward, his expression somber. In his hands was a scorched phone.
"This was Miss Cassandra's," he said quietly, offering it to Matthew. "They found it at the fire scene. She left it behind… for you."
Matthew's fingers trembled as he took it, his vision blurring.
Mr. Ban hesitated before continuing, his voice heavy. "Miss Cassandra… she didn't die right away."
Matthew's breath caught. His blood turned to ice.
"She held on. Somehow, she survived until the firefighters arrived. In her last moments… she kept calling your name. Over and over."
A sharp pause. Then, softer: "But she never got to see you. That was all she wanted."
Each word was a knife to Matthew's chest. He couldn't breathe.
"Cassey…" His voice cracked, raw and broken. Then, with a roar that shook the walls, he screamed her name.
"CASSANDRAA!"
His fists slammed into the concrete floor—once, twice, again and again, until his knuckles split open. The pain barely registered. He needed it. Needed something, anything, to drown out the guilt and grief tearing him apart.
Mr. Ban watched in grim silence. He moved as if to stop him, then stopped himself. There was no point. Matthew was beyond reason, lost in a storm of his own torment.
Only when his body gave out, when his hands were bloody and his strength gone, did Mr. Ban signal for others to drag him away.
Days later, Cassandra's belongings were delivered to Matthew.
He sat alone in the empty house, staring blankly at the remnants of her life—charred jewelry, fragments of what once was. His hand hovered over them, shaking, before he pulled back.
He couldn't even cry anymore.
The Lawrence family, worried for his sanity, sent a doctor to sedate him. The drugs dulled his exhaustion, but the agony remained. Even unconscious, he clutched her phone like a lifeline, refusing to let go.
"Will he be okay?" Julia's voice wavered, her face a mask of false concern.
Matthew's aunt scoffed. "He's always been logical. He won't let emotions rule him for long." Her tone turned icy. "Besides, it's over. Cassandra's gone. Nothing can change that. Stay close, and he'll move on soon enough."
Taking the words to heart, Julia wasted no time erasing every trace of Cassandra from the house. Photos, keepsakes, mementos—gone.
She replaced them with her own things, redecorating the villa in her image. Standing in the newly sanitized space, she smiled, triumphant. Humming to herself, she prepared millet porridge, eager to play the doting caretaker.
But when she stepped into his room, tray in hand, her blood ran cold.
Matthew was gone.
A deafening roar shook the house.
"WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO THROW CASSEY'S THINGS AWAY?!"
Matthew's voice was pure fury, dark and lethal.
"FIND THEM. ALL OF YOU. IF A SINGLE THING IS MISSING, I'LL MAKE YOU PAY—WITH YOUR LIVES!"
Julia's hands trembled. The bowl slipped, shattering on the floor, scalding porridge splashing onto her legs. She shrieked, clutching her burned skin—
But the pain was nothing compared to the look in Matthew's eyes when they locked onto hers.
Cold. Deadly.
She stumbled back, choking back a gasp.
Matthew stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. Every muscle in his body was coiled with barely restrained violence.
"You think you can replace her?" His voice was a venomous whisper.
Julia's pulse pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
"Let me make this clear," he hissed, the words sharp as a blade. "Cassandra is irreplaceable. And if you ever touch her things again…"
He didn't need to finish. The threat hung in the air, suffocating.
For the first time, Julia realized—this wasn't the Matthew she thought she knew.
This was a man destroyed by loss.
And his love for Cassandra had turned into something terrifying.
End of Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé Chapter 12. Continue reading Chapter 13 or return to Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé book page.