Chapter 8
Maureen couldn’t help but laugh as she poured herself a glass of wine in the living room, completely unfazed by the broken vases and papers strewn across the floor. She twirled her finger around the rim of the glass and grinned.
“So… Cassandra finally found out, huh?” Her voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “Took her long enough. Honestly, I thought she’d never leave.”
Johansen didn’t answer.
He stood near the fireplace, unmoving, his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists. The silence between them grew heavy, and Maureen’s smile faltered just a little.
“Well?” she asked, sauntering over to him. “Isn’t this what we’ve been waiting for?”
Still no answer.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you getting mad? Come on, Johansen, we should be celebrating. She’s gone. She knows now. And it’s not like she was your real wife anyway–I am. We’re married. Cassandra was just…”
She waved her hand casually, as if brushing away a speck of dust. “An illusion.”
He turned to her then, finally, slowly. His expression unreadable. “You think I’m joking?” he said,
voice low.
Maureen tilted her head, confused. “What?”
“I said-” he stepped closer, eyes darkening, “-do you think I’m joking? You think this is a game?”
Maureen blinked. “Wait–why are you upset? Isn’t this what you wanted?” she repeated. “She’s gone now. She won’t come back. You made your choice, remember?”
“She’ll come back,” Johansen said coldly.
Maureen stared at him. “What?”
“She loves me.” His voice was distant, like he was trying to convince himself. “She loves me too deeply. I know her. She can’t make it without me.”
There was a flicker of something behind his eyes. A memory.
Cassandra, sobbing on the balcony during one of their worst fights, had clutched his sleeve with trembling hands. Rain had poured around them like the sky itself was grieving. “Don’t leave me, Johansen,” she whispered, voice cracking, eyes swollen. “I swear–I’ll die if you go.”
He remembered how broken she looked that night. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, hair tangled in the wind, but still the most painfully beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her fingers gripped him like he was her last breath, her last hope. “You promised me forever,” she had cried. “Don’t break me.”
And he–foolish and furious–had pulled away.
Yet now, that moment echoed like a ghost in his mind. The desperation in her voice. The certainty of her love. It haunted him. Because back then, she had meant every word.
And now? Now she was the one who walked away.
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Without a single backward glance.
Maureen saw the change in him. Her voice hardened. “Is that it?” she asked. “Do you still love her?”
He looked at her. There was a beat of hesitation.
Then: “No. Of course not.” He gave a bitter laugh. “You’re the one I love now.”
She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “Then why do you care if she’s gone?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to the side table, picked up the photo frame that once held their fake wedding picture. He smashed it on the ground, glass shattering like his thoughts.
“I just want her back to punish her,” he muttered.
Maureen raised an eyebrow. “Punish her?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “For what she did to you. She almost killed you, didn’t she? Poisoned you, made you vomit. And while you were in pain, she just left. Like we didn’t matter.”
Maureen watched him, calculating. “So this isn’t about love anymore.”
“Of course not,” Johansen said quickly, too quickly. “This is about payback. She betrayed me.”
Maureen walked over to him, slowly. She reached for his hand, tracing her fingers over his bleeding knuckles. “Then that’s good,” she murmured. “Because now, we can be happy without her.”
He nodded.
She smiled and pulled him down to kiss her. “Come on. Let’s treat your wounds.”
She led him to the couch, grabbed the first aid kit, and began dabbing at his bruised skin. But as her hands touched his flesh, Johansen’s eyes drifted–not to her, but to a memory.
Cassandra.
Her soft hands cleaning a paper cut on his finger once, scolding him for being careless.
Her laughter when he flinched.
Her gentle, teasing voice.
‘Big CEO like you can’t handle a paper cut? Poor baby.”
And just like that, he wasn’t seeing Maureen anymore.
He was seeing her.
He cursed under his breath and jerked his hand away.
“Johansen?” Maureen asked, confused.
He stood up, pacing.
So this was the game Cassandra wanted to play?
Fine.
If she wanted to disappear, wanted to believe he’d beg for her to come back–then she was
wrong.
Dead wrong.
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“I’ll find her,” he muttered.
Maureen frowned. “What did you say?”
He turned to her, his voice cold and sharp. “I said–if she thinks this is over, it’s not. She doesn‘ get to walk away after everything. I’ll make sure she regrets it. She’ll wish she never left me.”
Maureen hesitated. “But you said-”
He cut her off. “Don’t worry, Maureen. You’ll get what you want. She’s not coming between us.”
He picked up his phone again, dialing his private security.
“Find her,” he said into the receiver. “I don’t care how much it costs. I want her location. Now.”
He ended the call and stared into the darkening sky beyond the window.
Cassandra, if you think I’m the one begging–you’ve clearly forgotten who I am.
