Gone After the 28th Wedding

Cassandra's POV

To marry Vincent Romano, I survived twenty-eight near-death experiences over five years.

The first: city hall's foundation collapsed — three broken ribs. The second: a truck rollover — my right leg nearly amputated. The twenty-seventh: a chandelier in the bridal shop, three days unconscious.

All of Seren City laughed at me. Romano's most cursed bride-to-be. Yet I loved him still.

Until the twenty-eighth time.

When the bomb detonated outside city hall, I threw myself over Vincent on instinct. The blast shifted my organs and shredded my back. The day my stitches came out, I felt no relief at having survived.

Because I stood outside the study and heard his voice.

"Her organs were badly damaged. She almost actually died." Antonio's horror was audible. "Vincent, you used to treat her so well—"

"People change." A pause, then quieter: "I did want to marry her once. But before Amelia, I had no idea what it meant to truly want someone. I acknowledge the debt — I just can't spend my life repaying it." Another pause. "Father won't agree, and she won't let go easily."

"So." His voice turned to ice. "The only clean way out is to make her give up on her own. As long as Cassandra refuses to break the engagement, the accidents must continue. Until she walks away."

I pressed my back against the cold wall, nails driving into my palm.

Five years. Twenty-eight times. Every fracture, every scar, every night in the ICU — a funeral, arranged by the man I loved.

I didn't confront him. I called my doctor.

"Cassandra." Dr. Harrison's voice was grave. "The repeated trauma, the medication side effects — your kidney failure has reached end stage. Without immediate treatment, you have a month at most."

One month.

I hung up and stood in that silent hallway — outside the door of the man who wanted me dead — and laughed without making a sound.

You wanted me dead, Vincent. You'll get your wish soon enough.

At noon, I passed him on the stairs. He glanced at me. "You look terrible. I'll handle the wedding — stop making that death-face."

Once, that would have broken my heart. Now it just turned my stomach.

"No rush," I said. "Whenever."

He paused — I'd never said that before. In the past I'd cried and begged him to set a new date. He didn't get the chance to think too hard about it.

"Vincent~"

Amelia descended the stairs in a red silk slip dress, her pallor calibrated to perfection. Three months ago she'd moved in under the pretext of a flat "renovation." She'd long since made herself at home.

Vincent stepped past me to steady her. "Your heart again?"

"Mm… it feels tight." She leaned into him, then looked over his shoulder at me — a direct challenge. "Bellini released a limited-edition diamond necklace today, but I can't stand in line… could Cassandra go?"

That trick again. Three months of wearing the title of fiancée while running errands beneath a servant.

"No."

The air went still.

Vincent's eyes snapped to mine. "What did you say?"

"I said no. I'm your fiancée. Not her errand girl."

He released Amelia and closed in, his shadow swallowing me whole. "She's unwell. Are you really picking a fight with a sick woman? Your parents are dead. You have nothing. The Romano family has been keeping you alive. Without me, you can't afford a meal. Either stand in that line, or get out of this estate and beg on the street."

My chest tightened. No money meant no treatment. No treatment meant I wouldn't last the month.

On cue, Amelia tugged his sleeve, eyes glistening. "Vincent, don't… maybe she's just having a bad day. I won't get it — even if it's my favourite…"

Perfectly played.

Vincent's gaze came back to me, thick with disgust. "Go."

I looked at the two of them. The last ember in me went dark.

"Fine." I lowered my head, hiding the ice in my eyes. "I'll go."

Seren City. Forty degrees. Four hours outside Bellini.

End-stage kidney failure made the dizziness come in waves. Cold sweat soaked my back. Passersby looked at me the way you'd look at a dying stray.

I stopped in front of Perle restaurant with the velvet box clenched in my fist.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched Vincent drape a pearl necklace around Amelia's neck and press a reverent kiss to her collarbone. She lifted a champagne flute and smiled like someone who had never known a hard day in her life.

Then I understood. There was no limited edition. No must-have necklace.

They just wanted to watch me bake in the sun like a dog on a leash.

Twelve years. A marriage pact sealed with my parents' lives — and it had become the blade buried in my chest.

I looked through the glass at the man I had once loved and pulled out my phone. I dialled the number I had never dared to use: Vincent's father. The man Vincent feared most. The Don of the Romano family.

"Jonathan. It's me."

Vincent's face through the window — a stranger's face now.

"About the engagement." My voice was steadier than it had ever been. "I want to end it. For good."