Days passed.
Three long, restless days filled with sleepless nights and suffocating tension.
When the investigator finally returned with the report, Garrison stood still as he listened, his expression gradually turning rigid.
Every word felt heavier than the last. Everything he believed about Cassandra was wrong.
"She stole designs," the investigator stated plainly. "Not only that, she was also responsible for leaking the confidential documents."
For a moment, Garrison simply stood there, unmoving.
"…No," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "That's not possible."
He demanded a reinvestigation. Then another. But every result came back the same. The truth didn't change. It only became clearer.
His hands slowly clenched into fists. 'So… it was all a lie…?'
A hollow feeling spread through his chest.
"She… was with me just for the documents…" he murmured faintly, his voice breaking.
A bitter realization settled in. 'She might have never loved me… not even once.'
