My Fiancé Risked Our Lives for His First Love

###5

As expected, not long after Nate left, Cassie sent me another display of their affection.

This time, it was a video of him, Nate, busy in the kitchen—his back to the camera.

“He really loves me,” she cooed. “The moment I told him I was anemic, he dropped everything to take care of me.”

In all our years together, he hadn’t so much as toasted a slice of bread for me.

My fingers trembled as I furiously typed back, biting my lip to steady the rage.

“But he still doesn’t dare make your relationship public, does he? He only dares to sneak around with you.”

“Cassie Clay, you’ll always be his mistress—a sewer rat who doesn’t belong in daylight. Still think you’re the Detroit princess? No. You’re just a prostitute selling herself to survive.”

I turned off the phone and shoved it under the pillow, my chest heaving.

Days passed without any sign of Nate.

“I’m really sorry, Ruth. I didn’t expect things to spiral like this.”

“It’s fine. Do whatever you want.”

I kept my tone sweet and composed. He felt the chill behind it.

With guilt thick in his throat, he promised,

“I’ll take you to see the child as soon as I can manage it.”

“I said it doesn’t matter, Nate.”

Then I hung up.

His promises meant nothing. They were as cheap as the lies that dressed them.

Nate stared blankly at the busy tone.

Four days later, the bridal shop called. My wedding dress was ready.

My mother had commissioned it before she passed, hoping I’d be the most beautiful bride.

There was no wedding anymore, but the dress was a memory I still wanted to reclaim.

But when I stepped into the shop, there she was—Cassie—wearing my custom-made gown.

She twirled in front of the mirror, smiling sweetly, her eyes taunting.

“Your fat body doesn’t fit in this anymore, so I kindly helped you try it on. Even the groom helped—many times. You should thank me.”

My vision blurred red. I lunged and grabbed at the gown she’d defiled.

“Even if it’s trash, it’s mine! Cassie Clay, whether it’s a man or a dress, I’d rather throw them in the gutter than give them to you!”

Out of nowhere, she screamed and snatched a pair of scissors from the counter, slashing the dress—then her own palm.

“Ah!” she howled. “I was just helping her try on a dress, and she stabbed me!”

Before I could react, Nate stormed in.

He saw the shallow cut on Cassie’s hand and exploded.

“Are you insane? It’s just a dress! What’s wrong with Cassie wearing it? Did you want her dead? How vicious can you be!”

Vicious?

I stared at the shredded gown in disbelief, my breath ragged.

“This dress… was made by my mother!” I shouted, voice cracking.

“When you were just a homeless thug in Detroit, my mother took you in—raised you like a son! Without her, you’d have died in the gutter. She gave you everything you have. And this is how you repay her?”

I remembered back then—Cassie was a pampered heiress. One time, Nate accidentally stepped on her shoe. She had her bodyguards beat him.

But he never resented her. Instead, he said, almost dreamily, that he’d sleep with her one day.

I always thought he was joking.

I didn’t realize that conquering her had been his dream all along.

The anger made me dizzy. Nate reached for my hand, panicked.

“No, I didn’t mean that. I just… you went too far with Cassie.”

I shoved him away, voice like a blade.

“Right. I went too far. Go take your precious lady to the hospital. Hurry—her wound might miraculously heal if you’re fast.”

A heavy wave of disappointment crushed my chest.

He hesitated, but finally turned away.

Clutching Cassie’s hand, he left without another word.

“Yes. You’ll always choose her,” I whispered, hollow.

I knew this ending already. I’d accepted it.

So why does it still hurt so much?

I bit my lip, refusing to cry. But once his shadow disappeared, I couldn’t hold back.

The tears came all at once, along with a sharp pain in my stomach.

I looked down. The surgical wound on my abdomen had split open again.

I staggered out, breathing unevenly. I tripped over a stone, and just as I braced to hit the ground—

A strong arm wrapped around my waist.

He pulled me into a firm chest, steady and warm.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk? I’m here.”