Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé - Chapter 13: Chapter 13
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The air hung thick with tension as Matthew's ragged voice broke the silence. "Did you throw out Cassey's things?" His words cut through the room like shards of ice.
Julia froze, fear flashing across her face. She'd barely managed to evacuate Mrs. Lawrence from the house without disaster, dodging one bullet only to face another. Now, pinned under Matthew's gaze, her pulse raced and her breath came in shallow gasps, the crushing weight of the situation pressing down on her chest.
When he turned to leave, relief washed over her - until his cold command stopped her dead. "Go look for them too," he said, his deceptively calm voice dripping with menace. "Miss one item, and I'll rip your arm off."
His threat hit like a sledgehammer to her chest, plunging Julia's world into darkness. Terror rooted her to the spot, her body paralyzed by the looming violence.
Meanwhile, Matthew was fighting his own war. The PR nightmare from the engagement banquet had Lawrence Group scrambling, and he'd spent the entire night putting out fires. Exhausted but unable to rest, he jerked upright at an unexpected sound.
Cassandra's phone, lying on his desk, was ringing. His heart leapt. "Cassey!" he thought desperately. "She's awake! The police made a mistake—"
But as he grabbed the phone, his hope shattered. The screen displayed not an incoming call, but an alarm Cassandra had set: "2 AM - Take meds." The accompanying message gutted him: "Taking these pills means standing by Matthew Lawrence's side until we grow old together."
The world stopped. Matthew's chest constricted as icy fingers traced his spine. His trembling hands silenced the alarm, only for another to sound immediately: "Matthew is my today and all my tomorrows. Stick to your medicine - it will get better."
Each word pierced like a knife. A desperate need to understand her overwhelmed him. Fumbling with the phone, he tried passwords - her birthday, his birthday - before their anniversary date unlocked it.
The screen revealed dozens of alarms, all set for the dead of night, each title a heartbreaking confession:
"Take your medicine! I'll get better. Can't disappoint my Matthew."
"After this dose, will Matthew come to me? Please?"
"The medicine's bitter, but dawn with Matthew makes it sweeter."
The truth crashed over him. All this time, Cassandra had been silently suffering, medicating herself just to function. He remembered when she'd started sleeping separately - not a whim, but a desperate measure he'd been too blind to see.
His thoughts turned to Julia with fresh shame. He'd raged at the wrong people, consumed by jealousy, while the woman he loved fought battles alone. Scrolling through Cassandra's notes - meticulous records of his preferences, his habits - destroyed him:
"Iced Americano: under 15°C, max 300ml, oat milk only, pre-warm cup."
"Steak: 8 minutes for perfect rare..."
Tears blurred his vision. The weight of his neglect crushed him. In chasing shadows, he'd missed what mattered most.
Julia froze, fear flashing across her face. She'd barely managed to evacuate Mrs. Lawrence from the house without disaster, dodging one bullet only to face another. Now, pinned under Matthew's gaze, her pulse raced and her breath came in shallow gasps, the crushing weight of the situation pressing down on her chest.
When he turned to leave, relief washed over her - until his cold command stopped her dead. "Go look for them too," he said, his deceptively calm voice dripping with menace. "Miss one item, and I'll rip your arm off."
His threat hit like a sledgehammer to her chest, plunging Julia's world into darkness. Terror rooted her to the spot, her body paralyzed by the looming violence.
Meanwhile, Matthew was fighting his own war. The PR nightmare from the engagement banquet had Lawrence Group scrambling, and he'd spent the entire night putting out fires. Exhausted but unable to rest, he jerked upright at an unexpected sound.
Cassandra's phone, lying on his desk, was ringing. His heart leapt. "Cassey!" he thought desperately. "She's awake! The police made a mistake—"
But as he grabbed the phone, his hope shattered. The screen displayed not an incoming call, but an alarm Cassandra had set: "2 AM - Take meds." The accompanying message gutted him: "Taking these pills means standing by Matthew Lawrence's side until we grow old together."
The world stopped. Matthew's chest constricted as icy fingers traced his spine. His trembling hands silenced the alarm, only for another to sound immediately: "Matthew is my today and all my tomorrows. Stick to your medicine - it will get better."
Each word pierced like a knife. A desperate need to understand her overwhelmed him. Fumbling with the phone, he tried passwords - her birthday, his birthday - before their anniversary date unlocked it.
The screen revealed dozens of alarms, all set for the dead of night, each title a heartbreaking confession:
"Take your medicine! I'll get better. Can't disappoint my Matthew."
"After this dose, will Matthew come to me? Please?"
"The medicine's bitter, but dawn with Matthew makes it sweeter."
The truth crashed over him. All this time, Cassandra had been silently suffering, medicating herself just to function. He remembered when she'd started sleeping separately - not a whim, but a desperate measure he'd been too blind to see.
His thoughts turned to Julia with fresh shame. He'd raged at the wrong people, consumed by jealousy, while the woman he loved fought battles alone. Scrolling through Cassandra's notes - meticulous records of his preferences, his habits - destroyed him:
"Iced Americano: under 15°C, max 300ml, oat milk only, pre-warm cup."
"Steak: 8 minutes for perfect rare..."
Tears blurred his vision. The weight of his neglect crushed him. In chasing shadows, he'd missed what mattered most.
End of Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé Chapter 13. Continue reading Chapter 14 or return to Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé book page.