Hannah trailed behind them toward the sofa. There was something in her presence that made Samantha uneasy, a tension that tightened with every step.

Sure enough, the moment stretched and snapped. Without warning, Hannah stepped hard on the hem of Samantha's dress.

Samantha furrowed her brows, instinctively reaching out to steady herself on Connor's arm.

But she had underestimated Hannah. This wasn't about making her trip or fall. It was about the dress.

Before Samantha could react, a ripple of gasps spread through the crowd.

Her gown—delicate, custom-fitted, elegant—split apart at the seams under the pressure, slipping off her body in a sudden whisper of silk. All that remained was the thin lingerie clinging to her frame.

"I'm so sorry, Samantha, I didn't mean to," Hannah said immediately, though her voice carried no weight of sincerity.

Eyes swarmed over Samantha, unashamed and leering.

Shame struck her like a slap, sharp and burning. She snatched the fabric from the ground, clutching it to her chest. Then, without hesitation, she raised her hand and delivered a tight slap across Hannah's face.

Color bloomed instantly on Hannah's cheek.

Connor stepped forward and yanked Hannah behind him, his eyes turning cold as they met Samantha's. "How could you hit her? She apologized! It wasn't even on purpose!"

Samantha's lashes trembled, but she said nothing. She simply stared at him.

Of course she knew. This had been orchestrated from the start—Connor and Hannah, playing their parts. The dress had been tampered with. There was no other explanation for how it fell apart so effortlessly.

He wanted to humiliate her. To break her pride in front of everyone.

But he had miscalculated.

There was no collapse, no tears, only the distant flicker of disappointment in her eyes—cool, steady, strangely calm.

Something in Connor faltered. Her gaze sent a ripple of panic through him.

His brows twitched. He reached out instinctively to take her hand, but Samantha pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Samantha, I…" He fumbled with his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. "Let me get someone to help you change. Samantha, I'm really sorry."

He kept apologizing, frantic now, but Samantha barely responded.

She let the staff guide her away, and he watched her go, unease blooming in his chest. Something had shifted. She wasn't the same.

And for the first time, he felt it—her eyes no longer held love when they looked at him.

Fear curled cold in his stomach.

"Connor," Hannah leaned in close, voice low enough for only him to hear. "I arranged for a man to go in while she's changing—just a little scare…"

"No!" Connor snapped. "Call it off. Now."

Hannah blinked in disbelief. "What?"

"I said cancel the plan!" His tone was sharp and commanding.

"But—" She faltered.

"She's already been humiliated enough!" His voice dropped again, but the anger remained. "This place is full of important people. You want to blow this up even more? I'll be the one who's shamed."

Hannah hesitated, then finally relented. "Fine."

That night, on the way home, Connor held Samantha's hand the entire time.

Somewhere deep down, he was gripped by a strange premonition. If he let go, she might vanish completely.

"Samantha… I was wrong. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Will you forgive me?"

Samantha smiled faintly, without hesitation. "Okay."

Soon, it was the anniversary of Cathy's death.

Samantha was ready to disappear for good. She had already thrown away every gift Connor had ever given her. Even the photos they had taken together—all of them were tossed into the trash. There was nothing left in the apartment that belonged to her.

Now, all that was left was to wait for the show to begin.

"Samantha," Connor said hesitantly, "I just got an email. Someone claims to have a lead about the fire three years ago. They want us to go to the site."

"Let's go." Samantha didn't hesitate.

"Alright," he nodded. "I'll have the driver get the car."

He took her hand, holding it tightly.

Her fingers were ice-cold today. His palms were warm, yet no matter how tightly he held her, they never warmed up.

The site of the fire had long since become a ruin—an abandoned building, still bearing the blackened marks of smoke on its walls. Inside, it was choked with dust.

"Don't worry, Connor," one of his friends had told him during a conversation Samantha had overheard. "We've already set up the timed incendiary. You just need to lure her in and lock the door from the outside. Once it starts burning, she won't be able to get out. Based on the last fire, wait fifteen minutes, then go in and save her. She won't die—maybe just a few burns. But when she sees you coming through the flames, she'll be so grateful and start crying."

Samantha had heard it all. And she was ready to let "Samantha" be buried in this fire for good.

"Samantha."

Connor's hand trembled slightly. He looked at her delicate face—so lovely, so distant. Something in him hesitated.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing." He lowered his head. Then, as if he thought about something, he looked up again and said, out of nowhere, "Samantha, will you marry me?"

Samantha let out a sudden laugh and pointed at the decaying building. "Are you proposing to me here?"

"You're right. I didn't think it through."

Inside, Samantha played dumb. "Did the person who emailed you say what time they'd be here?"

Connor glanced at his watch and pressed his lips together. "No. Samantha, I left my phone in the car. I'll go grab it. Can you wait here for a moment?"

"Sure."

He turned to leave.

Just before the door shut, even though she'd prepared herself for everything, Samantha felt something deep in her chest twist sharply.

She smiled and called out to him, "Connor, will you always love me?"

His hand froze on the doorknob. He turned to look at her—this woman who had stood by his side for three years.

She was so trusting. After all his deceit and revenge, she still believed in him.

His throat tightened. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. "I will," he said softly.

"Alright," she smiled. "I'll wait for you."

The door closed. His hands shook violently as he locked it.

With a heavy click, the lock fell into place—shutting the door on Samantha's life.

She had to admit, they had timed it perfectly. Flames were already licking their way into the building.

She ran deeper inside, quickly arranging the body her uncle had prepared in advance. Everything was set.

Then she jumped from a second-floor window.

Before getting into the car her uncle had parked nearby, she turned once to glance at the building now fully consumed by fire.

And silently, in her heart, she said, 'So long, Connor. I hope your heart will remain stone-cold forever. Even when you learn the truth—don't mourn for me.'