Don't Pretend, I Know Everything

Isabella couldn't make sense of the anonymous message she received the night before. She checked it again, but the number was too obscure—no name, no clues. It was strange, but she decided not to dwell on it and went on with her day.

Later, she arrived at her café with Chloe. The two exited the car in silence, though Chloe's face betrayed the anger she was trying to suppress.

Throughout the day, Isabella immersed herself in work, trying to stay distracted. But as the day drew to a close and Isabella was shutting down the café, her phone buzzed with a notification.

It was a social media post—from Melody.

The image stopped Isabella in her tracks.

It was Cassian at the hospital… gently helping Melody with her hand. His gaze was soft, caring. The caption beneath the photo read:

"I told my boss it's just a scratch… but he wouldn't listen."

Isabella's blood boiled. Her hand clenched around her phone. That tenderness—that look—she had seen it once. And now it belonged to someone else.

She could no longer hold back.

Without another word, she grabbed her helmet, hopped on her bike, and rode toward the villa—anger roaring inside her louder than the engine beneath her.

Isabella stormed into the villa, her fury pulsing louder than her footsteps. But what met her eyes wasn't Cassian alone—it was Melody, gently supporting him as he leaned unsteadily against the couch, clearly drunk.

Melody turned with a smirk, her voice laced with mock innocence.

"Oh, Isabella. You're home?"

Isabella's voice was sharp, unwavering.

"Of course I am. This is my house, after all."

Melody's expression faltered. She tried to smile, but her tone was forced.

"Well, boss had a little too much to drink. I was just helping him. Can you take care of him."

Isabella took a few slow steps forward, her gaze locked on Melody's.

"I'll take care of him," she said, voice cold. "Because he's my husband. Only I have the right to look after him."

Without breaking eye contact, Isabella turned slightly and calmly called one of the villa's guards.

"Please escort this woman—respectfully—back to her own home."

Melody's eyes narrowed, her fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to protest, but Cassian—still groggy—reached out, wrapping his arms around Isabella like a child clinging to warmth.

"Wife…" he muttered, slurring slightly. "My head… it's spinning. Help me, please. Take me to our room…"

Melody froze.

The words hit her like a slap. Her face crumpled in disbelief and silent fury before she stormed out of the villa without another word.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Isabella gently pushed Cassian's arms off her. With a sigh of disgust, she signaled a servant.

"Help him to his room," she said curtly.

As the villa staff supported Cassian up the stairs toward his bedroom, Isabella stood silently, her gaze heavy with pain.

Her eyes trailed to his hand.

His ring finger.

It was bare.

The wedding ring—the one he once slipped onto her finger with trembling hands and whispered promises—was now gone from his.

A hollow ache spread through her chest. She didn't cry, not this time. But something inside her cracked all over again.

He had already walked out of her heart. Tonight only confirmed it.

Isabella didn't want to continue in this relationship anymore. Every moment felt like she was dragging herself through shattered glass.

But one memory—one promise—kept her rooted.

It was not to him.

It was to his grandmother.

That old woman was the only person in Cassian's family who had ever embraced Isabella like her own. With wrinkled hands cupping Isabella's face and eyes filled with warmth, she had once said,

"No matter what happens, promise me you'll give my grandson that seven chances. Only seven."

And Isabella, blinded by loyalty, hope, and longing for familial love she never received, had nodded with silent tears.

So she stayed. Not for Cassian. But for the woman who had once made her feel like a granddaughter.

Isabella quickly pushed aside all her thoughts, and after eating, she went to the dining table—not to her bedroom—but instead to the guest room to sleep.

In the morning, as the breeze drifted in through the curtains, she woke up from a dream where her father was beating her to death as Cassian entered. But not like in reality, in the dream, he stood there looking at her with cold disgust in silence.

She quickly got dressed and went downstairs.

She saw Cassian looking down at the floor with an unreadable expression and a tinge of anger—though she had no idea why. She didn't greet him and instead walked straight into the kitchen and brought her breakfast to the dining table.

He slowly stood up and walked toward her, sitting beside her as she quietly sipped her milk.

Cassian looked at her curiously and asked, "You don't usually drink milk… why now?"

She looked at him and replied, "Cassian, I actually like milk… but I stopped drinking it because you couldn't stand the smell of it."

Cassian responded softly, "I know, Isabella. But why are you drinking it now?"

Isabella let out a frustrated sigh and said, " What, Am I not allowed to drink?"

He immediately shook his head, "No, you can have whatever you wish. I don't need anything. But… you look happier now."

She didn't say much after that, but quietly finished her milk.

After finishing her breakfast, Isabella stood up to leave for her café. But Cassian gently held her hand and asked, "Why are you ignoring me, Isa? Even last night… you asked the staff to help me instead of staying with me."

Isabella responded flatly, "Yes, because I needed rest, so I asked them."

Cassian frowned. "Then why did you sleep in the guest room?"

Growing irritated, she pulled her hand away and snapped, "Don't pretend, Cassian. I know everything."

"What do you know?" he asked, his voice rising in tension.

"Don't act like you weren't at the hospital yesterday," she said coldly.

Cassian's expression darkened. He instinctively gripped her wrist tighter but quickly let go.

"I saw you," she added firmly. "I saw you with her."

"Who?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Isabella pulled out her phone and opened Melody's post to show him—but froze.

All the posts were gone.

And in that moment, Isabella realized the truth—Cassian had made Melody delete all the evidence.

He wasn't innocent. He was careful.