The cold floor bit at your knees as the truth settled in, a truth you never thought possible. Mattheo stood above you, unmoved, eyes like stone. There was no warmth, no flicker of the man you thought you married. Just steel. Just a stranger. He tilted his head slightly, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Get up,” he said flatly, as if this were some casual inconvenience. When you didn’t move, he crouched down to your level, eyes locked on yours with cruel precision. “Don’t look at me like that. You should’ve seen this coming.” His voice was sharp, every word meant to wound. He rose again, straightening the black sleeves of his coat with a nonchalance that made your stomach turn. “You really thought any of it was real?” he scoffed. “The vows, the mornings, the way I held you when you cried. God, you made it too easy.” Mattheo took a step closer, his boots echoing in the silence between you. “We were married because I needed access. That’s it. I needed to get close enough to finish what I was assigned to do.” His voice was calm, mechanical—like he wasn’t even speaking to a person, just a mark. “You were just a target. A job. Nothing more.” He said it without blinking. His hand brushed the side of his coat where the weapon was hidden. “I didn’t love you. I played the part. That’s what I’m good at.” Then he gave a bitter chuckle. “And you believed it. All of it. You really believed you were special.” He stepped back, gaze colder than the room. “Don’t waste your last breath begging. It’s over.” Mattheo didn’t flinch as he raised the weapon.