To avenge his first love, Mathias Rocco vowed to teach me a lesson.

So, I was drugged and thrown into the bed of a pot-bellied, balding businessman like discarded trash.

Days later, Mathias finally remembered my existence.

"Irene, if you know what’s good for you, come back this instant," he ordered over the phone, his voice cold with entitlement.

"Otherwise, our engagement…."

A deep, lazy voice cut in with mockery. "Irene’s been quite exhausted these past few nights," the man drawled, his words carrying an unmistakable meaning. "Also…."

"Don’t wait for a wedding invitation. Irene feels sick just looking at you."

…

As the auction hall lit up, my eyes landed on Mathias, his fingers clenched around a wine glass, crushing it in his grip.

Shards of glass tore into his palm, crimson dripping onto the pristine tablecloth.

I gasped, instinctively stepping forward to check his injury, but he shoved me away, widening the distance between us.

It was then that I followed his gaze toward a woman in a plain white dress. The fabric was cheap and unremarkable, yet it did nothing to conceal her beauty. She stood there, frozen, staring at him like the world had just stopped.

A name surfaced in my mind.

Nathalia Cavendish.

Mathias’ first love. The woman who, when he had nothing, stripped him of what little he had left and vanished overseas without a trace.

I had once stumbled upon an old, yellowed photo album, flipping through snapshots of them together, his youthful adoration, her effortless charm.

And now, standing there, I finally understood.

The custom-tailored suit flown in from France, the platinum cufflinks, luxurious yet understated, and even his hair, styled to perfection by a professional.

This wasn't just any night.

He had been waiting for her.

Mathias looked devastatingly handsome, every inch of him exuding elegance and refinement.

Yet, I knew the truth; he had always despised dressing like this.

But tonight was different. Before leaving, he had stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his suit, smoothing his cufflinks, and scrutinizing every detail with uncharacteristic care.

I had seen the flicker of unease in his eyes. I had mistaken it for excitement.

Turns out, he had known all along.

He had known that Nathalia would be here tonight.

As the auctioneer urged the guests to take their seats, a young man appeared by Nathalia’s side.

I recognized him instantly. He was a notorious playboy in our social circles, one who swapped women as easily as changing ties.

Then, as if on cue, Nathalia looped her arm through his and leaned into his chest, flashing a soft, practiced smile.

And in the next breath, Mathias seized my hand and yanked me into his embrace.

The shards of glass still embedded in his palm sliced into my skin. Pain shot through me, a sharp, searing sting, but he didn’t seem to notice.

His grip only tightened.

His dark eyes, once unreadable, now burned with an intensity so deep that they looked almost black.

A passing waiter noticed the situation and rushed over with bandages. His voice was tinged with concern as he asked if we needed medical assistance.

Only then did Mathias seem to return to himself.

His gaze dropped to my wrist, now bleeding as much as his own, and for the briefest moment, guilt flickered in his dark eyes.

Silently, he took the medicine and gently dabbed it onto my wound, his movements uncharacteristically careful.

A low murmur followed, laced with an unfamiliar softness.

"Irene, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention… I’ll make it up to you."

I didn’t know how to respond.

Then, a hushed murmur swept through the auction hall as a rare treasure was unveiled on stage, a breathtaking emerald necklace, gleaming under the lights.

And under the watchful eyes of the audience, Mathias made a high-profile bid, his actions as extravagant as they were deliberate.

When the auctioneer presented it, Mathias took the necklace himself, stepping behind me to fasten it around my neck. His fingers brushed against my skin, his voice carrying both arrogance and something far crueler.

"I’ve always said I would give the best to the woman I love."

"It was true then… and it will always be true."

Yet, as those words left his lips, his gaze never once landed on me.

After the auction ended, I excused myself and stepped into the restroom, letting out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

But when I emerged, I came to a halt.

Nathalia stood before Mathias; her eyes rimmed with unshed tears.

Her voice trembled.

"Mathias, I never… I never meant to hurt you. I just…."

"Enough!"

Mathias struggled to rein in his fury, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him. "After what you did to me back then, do you really think a few words can erase it?"

"It’s not that easy!"

As the sharpness in his voice faded, his gaze finally landed on me, lingering for only a second before he strode forward and grasped my hand.

"I already have a girlfriend," he said coldly. "Please don’t say things that might cause misunderstandings for Irene, Miss Cavendish."

At his words, Nathalia’s eyes turned even redder, resembling a camellia battered by the wind and rain.

"In that case… I’ll never appear in front of you again!"

Tears welled up as she turned and ran.

But barely a few steps in, she faltered, her heel catching on the stair’s edge. Her body pitched forward, and a sharp gasp left her lips.

Before I could react, Mathias ripped his hand from mine and rushed forward, his movements swift, almost desperate.

He caught her firmly in his arms.

The fury that had burned in his eyes moments ago had vanished, replaced by sheer panic.

"Nathalia, are you okay?" His voice had softened, lined with worry.

"I’ll take you to the hospital right now!"

Without hesitation, he swept her up into his arms and strode toward the car.

He didn’t look back.

I stood frozen at the entrance of the auction house, the sting of his abandonment settling deeper than the cold night air.

The force with which he had thrown me off wasn’t light. Pain pulsed through my wrist, and when I glanced down, fresh blood seeped through the bandages.

Leaning against the wall, I bit down hard, forcing back the pain, forcing back everything.

Only when the sharp sting dulled to a throbbing ache, did I manage to stand upright again, my breaths shallow and uneven.

I called Mathias. Once. Twice. A dozen times.

No answer.

The auction house, built halfway up the mountain for privacy, was as deserted as my calls. Not a single taxi in sight.

With no other choice, I forced myself to walk, step by agonizing step, down the uneven path.

My fifteen-centimeter heels wobbled against the jagged stone, and my floor-length gown dragged like a dead weight over the rough ground.

The night wind howled through the trees, carrying a fine drizzle that seeped into my skin, chilling me to the bone.

A single misstep. That was all it took.

My heel landed on a loose rock.

The world lurched.

Before I could catch myself, gravity pulled me forward. My breath hitched, panic spiking in my chest.

Then, impact.

I crashed against a large tree, the force sending pain ricocheting through my spine. A deep bruise bloomed across my lower back, but worse than that, my ankle twisted at an unnatural angle.

A sharp cry tore from my lips.

The freezing night pressed in from all sides. My trembling hands clutched the bark for support, but the pain only deepened, sinking its claws into my bones.

I had no choice.

With shaking fingers, I removed my heels and took a step forward.

Agony.

Each step on the gravel was like walking on shattered glass, every sharp stone a blade cutting into my bare skin.

The farther I went, the more unbearable it became. Finally, a sob broke free. And once it did, I couldn’t stop.

By the time I reached the bottom of the mountain, my face was streaked with tears; my makeup was smudged beyond recognition.

Even the taxi driver hesitated before unlocking the door, his wary gaze flickering over me as if he had seen a ghost in the dead of night.

And still, Mathias hadn’t returned a single call. I barely remembered the ride home.

One moment, I was in the taxi. The next, I was sinking into the couch. My body finally gave out, and I collapsed, drained of every last shred of strength.

Then came the darkness. And in that darkness, I dreamed.

Roaring flames devoured everything, searing heat, suffocating smoke, my parents’ agonized screams cutting through the chaos. The fire swallowed them whole, turning everything to ash.

Amidst the destruction, only one thing remained.

Mathias. His hand reached through the blaze, pulling me away from the inferno. From that moment on, he was all I had left in this world.

When I woke, I was no longer on the couch.

Mathias had carried me to the bed, his touch gentle yet laced with guilt. He tucked me in with quiet care, his fingers brushing against my sweat-dampened skin as he fed me medicine, his every movement heavy with unspoken remorse.

"Irene, I’m sorry. My phone died, so I never got your calls."

"Please don’t be mad at me, okay?"

He must have stayed up all night taking care of me.

The same dress shirt from the auction clung to him, slightly wrinkled, and a faint shadow of stubble darkened his jaw.

Fever-induced aches pulsed through my body, leaving my mind briefly clouded.

The Mathias who had walked away so easily last night blurred into the man standing before me now, one who gazed at me as if I were his entire world.

And yet, they felt like two completely different people.

I couldn't tell, nor did I have the strength to.

Seeing my silence, Mathias pulled me into his arms, his fingers threading gently through my hair.

"Irene, I'm sorry. I was wrong last night. I'll make it up to you."

A fever had drained every ounce of my strength. My head rested weakly against his shoulder until my gaze landed on the collar of his shirt.

A bright red lipstick stain. My breath hitched. That shade, I recognized it instantly. The same bold crimson Nathalia had been wearing last night.

A violent shiver ran through me. Every breath felt like a dagger, piercing deep into my chest, twisting mercilessly.

Yet Mathias, still holding me close, remained oblivious. His gaze was locked on some distant point, shadows swirling in his eyes, a madness barely restrained.

He took a slow breath, exhaled, and said, "So, Irene… let's get engaged."

That very day, the news of our engagement dominated the headlines.

A young, self-made CEO and an orphaned girl, the contrast alone was enough to set the world abuzz.

But Mathias wasn’t satisfied.

He poured money into trending topics, secured exclusive interviews with top magazines, and ensured that news of our engagement echoed in every corner of society.

By afternoon, waves of reporters swarmed outside the house.

Over the next two days, before the cast on my foot had even been removed, I was forced into an extravagant gown, slipping my swollen feet into ice-cold heels that gleamed under the flashing lights.

Around my neck rested the emerald necklace Mathias had won at the auction, a jewel as heavy as the expectations he placed upon me.

Mathias, however, was in his element, his smile unwavering as he faced the cameras with effortless charm.

"I love Irene, and of course, I’ll give her nothing but the best."

"When it comes to the person I love, I spare no expense."

"I always have, and I always will."

The words spilled from his lips like a well-rehearsed script, polished and perfect.

When it was my turn to speak, all I could do was smile and nod, my lips curving into a practiced expression.

Not a single word escaped me.

I had brought up the idea of engagement with Mathias before.

After losing my parents, a constant sense of insecurity clung to me like a shadow. But I also knew that rushing into marriage could affect Mathias’s career, so I had trod carefully, testing the waters with caution.

"If getting married is too complicated right now, could we at least get engaged first?"

Mathias had only sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion.

"Irene, I’m really tired right now. I don’t have time to deal with these trivial matters. Can you be understanding?"

"When I have time, I’ll make it up to you."

Back then, I never would have imagined that, despite his company being on the brink of going public, with assets under evaluation, Mathias could suddenly find so much time to ensure our engagement made headlines.

During a break in the photoshoot, I happened to glance at his phone.

The screen was flooded with missed calls and unread messages, all from an unmarked number.

A flicker of curiosity took hold. Without thinking, I quickly searched the number on social media.

An account appeared instantly.

The name left no room for doubt.

Nathalia.

I had meant to exit the screen. But in my panic, my finger slipped.

I clicked "Add."

She accepted the request instantly. And then, a message popped up.

[Do you believe me when I say I’ll make sure your engagement party never happens?]

The words echoed in my mind, lingering like a whisper of impending doom.

The missed calls on Mathias’s phone became more frequent, his screen lighting up relentlessly.

And every so often, when he thought no one was watching, I caught glimpses of something unsettling, a fleeting smirk, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Then came the night before the engagement banquet.

Without warning, Nathalia stopped calling. The endless messages ceased.

Silence fell. And somehow, that silence felt far more ominous than her threats ever had.