Nineteen

After the formal event ended, Cassandra quickly made her way to the restroom, seeking an escape from the suffocating atmosphere that still clung to her skin. The long white gown she wore swayed lightly with her hurried steps, as if amplifying the panic in her heart, desperate to calm her shattered emotions. Once inside the empty restroom, she shut the door behind her and leaned against the marble sink, staring at her reflection, tired and cold, in the mirror.

Cassandra closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to release the tension in her chest. The memory of Antonio’s sudden kiss still burned on her lips. She tried to erase the feeling from herself, but no matter how hard she tried, the image of that kiss refused to fade. She swallowed hard, cursing herself for losing control even for a moment.

“Stupid! How could you let him touch you like that?” she whispered angrily to herself, her lips trembling. What might have seemed romantic to others felt like fire, burning her heart with rage. Behind the passion, she saw Antonio as nothing more than a cold-blooded killer—the man who had destroyed her life long ago. How could she let him touch her as if there were no buried wounds?

Cassandra lowered her head, her right hand gripping the edge of the sink tightly, trying to channel her anger. She tried to take a deep breath, but the suppressed rage only tightened her chest. Inside, she kept cursing Antonio and herself. Her thoughts spiraled back to a past that should never have been—a tragic moment that had taken her family and left scars that never healed.

Her reddened eyes glared at her reflection in the mirror, as though she wanted to scratch away the fragile yet hate-filled face staring back at her. “You are dead to my heart, Antonio,” she murmured in a low voice, almost like a whisper. “There’s nothing you can do to replace the lives you’ve taken.”

She wiped away the tears threatening to fall with the back of her hand, unwilling to show weakness, even to her own reflection. Cassandra knew the only reason she agreed to this marriage was for one purpose she clung to tightly—revenge.

This marriage wasn’t the end; it was the beginning of a long plan she had built in her mind for years. The decision to marry Antonio, as painful as it was, was the path she chose to bring the man to his downfall. She wouldn’t allow herself to waver or forget her goal, no matter how hard Antonio tried to get close to her.

Feeling somewhat calmer, Cassandra stood tall, regulated her breathing, and tried to recompose her expression. Her once glassy eyes now radiated deep determination, though pain and hatred still lingered in their depths. She promised herself never to let Antonio see her weakness.

She stepped out of the restroom with her head held high, donning her cold mask once again, ready to face Antonio and whatever games he might have planned. But deep down, Cassandra felt a vast emptiness that would not easily be filled. The wound was too deep, too dark to heal easily. She almost let the tears fall again, but she reminded herself that this entire marriage was the beginning of the revenge she had long awaited.

Cassandra quickly wiped away the remaining tears on her cheeks, straightened her shoulders, and took a deep breath to steady herself. She needed to stay strong. She had to attend the rest of the party—no matter how she felt. Each step she took back toward the ballroom felt heavy, as though each step carried the weight of her past. But she couldn’t falter, not in front of the guests waiting and especially not in front of Antonio.

When she stepped back into the ballroom, all eyes turned to her. Her white gown still looked flawless, with no trace of the tears that had briefly streaked her cheeks. She stood beside Antonio, her face almost emotionless, suppressing the turmoil in her heart. Antonio, who was chatting with one of his business associates, noticed Cassandra’s return and gently took her hand, holding it as if to assert his ownership. Cassandra resisted the urge to pull her hand away, forcing a cold smile.

“Cassandra, darling, you look stunning tonight,” Antonio whispered with a faint smile. His tone was sweet, but Cassandra knew that behind those words lay manipulation. She responded with a small nod, not saying a word.

Antonio’s associates approached them one by one, offering their congratulations with words that felt formal and hollow. Cassandra simply smiled and nodded each time someone spoke, though her mind was far away. In the midst of the party, Antonio seemed to revel in his role as a doting husband, occasionally touching Cassandra’s shoulder or inviting her to toast. He appeared to be showing everyone that Cassandra was part of his life. But Cassandra knew this was just part of Antonio’s grand plan, another piece of his perfect image.

In the midst of the crowd, Antonio suddenly leaned in, bringing his face close to Cassandra. “I didn’t expect you to leave the party for so long,” he whispered, his low tone sounding like a subtle reprimand. “What were you doing in there, Cassandra?”

Cassandra gave a faint smile, shifting her gaze toward the guests still laughing and chatting. “Perhaps I just needed time to… process all of this, Antonio,” she replied calmly, though her chest felt tight.

Antonio stared at her sharply, as though trying to penetrate the cold mask she wore. He gripped Cassandra’s hand more firmly and led her to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crowd of guests. There, he looked at Cassandra with an almost intimidating gaze, his expression turning serious.

“What do you really want, Cassandra?” Antonio asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowing as though trying to read every move she made. “Why do you seem so… unhappy?”

Cassandra swallowed, maintaining her forced smile. “I am happy, Antonio,” she said, her tone hollow, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression. “I just feel a little tired.”

Antonio raised an eyebrow, looking at her without expression. “Tired?” he repeated, as though doubting the excuse she gave. “I thought you knew what you were getting with this marriage. Wealth, luxury… everything you could ever dream of.”

Cassandra tried to keep her composure, even as her heart tightened further. She knew all too well that everything Antonio said wasn’t for her happiness but to bolster Antonio’s power and influence in the eyes of everyone around him. To him, Cassandra was merely a trophy to reinforce his image as a powerful man.

The faint smile on Antonio’s lips slowly turned into a sinister smirk. He leaned closer to Cassandra’s ear, whispering in a cold tone only they could hear. “Why are you crying, Cassandra?” he asked softly but with a mocking edge, as though savoring the discomfort he caused. “Shouldn’t you be happy to know you’ll be swimming in money after this?”