After His Fiancée Lied, He Destroyed Me Completely

The kitchen was a sterile expanse of marble and stainless steel, cold enough to preserve a body. Cassius shoved a crystal dessert bowl toward me, the scrape of glass against stone echoing like a shriek. Inside sat a mound of chocolate mousse, dusted with a fine, amber powder.

"Eat it," he commanded. His voice wasn't loud; it was terrifyingly level.

I stared at the bowl. The scent hit me instantly—roasted peanuts. My throat tightened reflexively, a phantom constriction born of a lifetime of avoidance. "Cassius, you know I can't. It will kill me."

He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Just like you 'know' we were soulmates? Just like you 'know' Liana is faking her illness?" He leaned in, his eyes hard and flat, devoid of the warmth that used to live there. "Liana told me about your little attention-seeking stunts in college. The fake fainting spells. The 'allergies' that only appear when you need sympathy."

"That’s a lie," I whispered, backing away until my hips hit the counter. "I have an EpiPen in my bag. Check my medical records."

"I'm done checking your fabricated records, Maya." He scooped a spoonful of the mousse, the peanut dust clinging to the dark chocolate. He moved into my personal space, trapping me. "You poisoned my fiancée's risotto. Now, you’re going to prove that you aren't a liar. Eat this, and I might believe you didn't try to murder her."

"Cassius, please—"

He grabbed my jaw. His fingers were steel bands, forcing my mouth open. The cruelty in his gaze was absolute, a stranger wearing the face of the man who once swore to protect me. "Eat."

I swallowed the spoonful. I had to. It was the only way to survive his rage, to buy a moment of time.

The reaction was immediate. Fire raced down my esophagus. My tongue swelled, filling my mouth like a grotesque sponge. My chest seized, the air turning into solid concrete in my lungs. I clawed at my throat, my eyes bulging as I looked at him, pleading silently.

He watched me with clinical detachment. "Dramatic to the end."

I stumbled past him, my vision tunneling into black vignettes. I crashed through the service door, my legs heavy as lead, and collapsed onto the floor of the small maid’s room. My trembling hands fumbled with my bag, dumping its contents. Lipstick. Keys. The yellow cap of the EpiPen.

I ripped the cap off and swung my arm down. The needle punched through my denim jeans and into my thigh.

*Click.*

The rush of epinephrine was a sledgehammer to my heart. I gasped, the air whistling through my constricted windpipe, dragging life back into my lungs in jagged, painful heaves. I curled into a ball on the linoleum, shivering violently as the adrenaline flooded my system.

"Maya!"

The door burst open. Hudson Elliott stood there, his usually calm face twisted in horror. He dropped to his knees beside me, his hands hovering, afraid to touch the wreckage.

"I found you... I heard the crash..." He saw the empty injector on the floor, the hives blooming across my neck. "He did this?"

I nodded, unable to speak. Hudson pulled me into his arms, rocking me as I wept dry, silent tears.

"We’re leaving," he said, his voice trembling with a rare, suppressed fury. "Tonight. I have the car. We’re going to the airport, and we’re flying to Vienna. Your parents are waiting."

I pulled back, gasping for air. My hand went to the small, white scar on my palm—the one from the time I’d cut myself on a jagged rock at the lake, and Cassius had carried me three miles to safety.

"No," I rasped, my voice a broken croak.

"Maya, look at you!" Hudson gripped my shoulders. "He isn't the man you loved. That man is dead. This one just tried to kill you."

"He's in there," I whispered, clutching the scar as if it were an anchor. "Liana is twisting him. If I leave now, she wins. She destroys him completely."

"She is destroying *you*!"

Before I could answer, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Hudson stiffened, standing up to shield me as Cassius appeared in the doorway. But Cassius wasn't looking at us with anger anymore. He was looking through us, his expression transformed by a manic, blinding joy.

Liana stood behind him, smirking, holding a glossy black-and-white printout.

"Pack your things," Cassius said to me. He didn't even acknowledge the red welts on my skin or the used medical device on the floor.

"Cassius?" I managed to stand, leaning on Hudson for support.

He held up the ultrasound image. "Liana is pregnant."

The world tilted. The air I had fought so hard to breathe suddenly felt too thin to sustain me.

"We saw the doctor an hour ago," Cassius continued, his eyes shining with tears—genuine, happy tears. The kind he used to cry for me. "I'm going to be a father. A real family."

He stepped forward, his joy hardening into a protective snarl as he looked at me. "I won't have a psycho anywhere near my heir. You're fired, Maya. If I see you near my child, I won't just make you eat peanuts. I will bury you."

Liana rested her head on his shoulder, her hand splayed over her flat stomach, her eyes locking with mine in a silent, triumphant scream.

*Checkmate.*