Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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Cassandra couldn't pinpoint the exact moment things had spiraled out of control. When had their lives become so tangled that she ended up sharing a bed with Matthew? Yet, the illusion of intimacy shattered the second Julia walked into the party.
Her entrance sent shockwaves through the room, silencing the music, freezing conversations mid-sentence. Whispers slithered through the crowd, accompanied by knowing glances. A few men were promptly dragged away by their girlfriends—no one was unfamiliar with Julia's reputation. She was magnetic, effortlessly commanding attention, thriving on the chaos she left in her wake.
And then her gaze locked onto Cassandra.
Julia's lips curled into a smile—sharp, predatory.
"Cassey," she cooed, voice dripping with saccharine venom, "I envy you. To have a fiancé no one else can steal."
The words hung in the air, laced with a threat. Julia sank into the seat across from Matthew, her movements slow, deliberate—every shift of her body a provocation. The party resumed, but Cassandra didn't miss the tension coiling in Matthew's frame. His usual composure flickered, his jaw tightening as he suddenly dropped his head, stifling a sharp exhale.
"What's wrong?" Cassandra asked.
Matthew hesitated before lifting his face. The mask of calm slid back into place, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
"I'm fine," he lied, voice strained.
But Cassandra saw the fury flashing in his eyes—a silent warning aimed at Julia, who only laughed, loud and unhinged.
The sound grated against Cassandra's nerves. Then her gaze dropped beneath the table.
Her blood turned to ice.
Julia's stiletto-clad foot was gliding up Matthew's leg, slow and deliberate. His expression remained stoic, but the reddening tips of his ears screamed discomfort.
Cassandra snapped.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Her voice sliced through the hum of the party.
Julia's grin widened, unrepentant. Before Matthew could react, Cassandra shoved back from the table, her chair screeching against the floor. Her pulse roared in her ears as she stormed into the restroom, splashing icy water onto her face. But nothing could douse the fire of betrayal burning through her.
On her way back, muffled voices spilled from the men's restroom.
"I'm the one who fits you best, aren't I?" Julia's voice was pure temptation.
Cassandra froze.
"Someone like her could never handle you."
A growl cut through the air. "Enough. Shut up, Julia."
But Julia only laughed, the sound twisting like a knife. "Matt, don't lie. You know I'll always belong to you."
The world blurred. Cassandra stumbled outside, the rain swallowing her whole. She walked, numb, until the screech of tires jerked her back to reality. A car skidded to a stop inches from her.
"You trying to get yourself killed?!" the driver yelled before speeding off.
Maybe she was.
Because what else could explain loving a man like Matthew?
As if the night hadn't humiliated her enough, a thief ripped her bag from her shoulder, shoving her into a puddle. Soaked and shattered, she sat on the shore until dawn, the waves crashing as violently as the storm inside her.
She felt like a ghost—unseen, unwanted, utterly lost.
Her entrance sent shockwaves through the room, silencing the music, freezing conversations mid-sentence. Whispers slithered through the crowd, accompanied by knowing glances. A few men were promptly dragged away by their girlfriends—no one was unfamiliar with Julia's reputation. She was magnetic, effortlessly commanding attention, thriving on the chaos she left in her wake.
And then her gaze locked onto Cassandra.
Julia's lips curled into a smile—sharp, predatory.
"Cassey," she cooed, voice dripping with saccharine venom, "I envy you. To have a fiancé no one else can steal."
The words hung in the air, laced with a threat. Julia sank into the seat across from Matthew, her movements slow, deliberate—every shift of her body a provocation. The party resumed, but Cassandra didn't miss the tension coiling in Matthew's frame. His usual composure flickered, his jaw tightening as he suddenly dropped his head, stifling a sharp exhale.
"What's wrong?" Cassandra asked.
Matthew hesitated before lifting his face. The mask of calm slid back into place, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
"I'm fine," he lied, voice strained.
But Cassandra saw the fury flashing in his eyes—a silent warning aimed at Julia, who only laughed, loud and unhinged.
The sound grated against Cassandra's nerves. Then her gaze dropped beneath the table.
Her blood turned to ice.
Julia's stiletto-clad foot was gliding up Matthew's leg, slow and deliberate. His expression remained stoic, but the reddening tips of his ears screamed discomfort.
Cassandra snapped.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Her voice sliced through the hum of the party.
Julia's grin widened, unrepentant. Before Matthew could react, Cassandra shoved back from the table, her chair screeching against the floor. Her pulse roared in her ears as she stormed into the restroom, splashing icy water onto her face. But nothing could douse the fire of betrayal burning through her.
On her way back, muffled voices spilled from the men's restroom.
"I'm the one who fits you best, aren't I?" Julia's voice was pure temptation.
Cassandra froze.
"Someone like her could never handle you."
A growl cut through the air. "Enough. Shut up, Julia."
But Julia only laughed, the sound twisting like a knife. "Matt, don't lie. You know I'll always belong to you."
The world blurred. Cassandra stumbled outside, the rain swallowing her whole. She walked, numb, until the screech of tires jerked her back to reality. A car skidded to a stop inches from her.
"You trying to get yourself killed?!" the driver yelled before speeding off.
Maybe she was.
Because what else could explain loving a man like Matthew?
As if the night hadn't humiliated her enough, a thief ripped her bag from her shoulder, shoving her into a puddle. Soaked and shattered, she sat on the shore until dawn, the waves crashing as violently as the storm inside her.
She felt like a ghost—unseen, unwanted, utterly lost.
End of Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to Faking My Death to Destroy My Fiancé book page.