Gun sat alone in his quiet apartment, his thoughts resting heavily on his shoulders as he stared at his phone. He couldn’t shake the swirling mix of anger and heartbreak that had pgued him ever since Jason’s call about Cassius. His attempts to reach Cassius had been frustratingly futile. First, he tried video calling him, hoping Cassius would pick up and offer some kind of expnation, some reassurance that Jason had misunderstood, that it was all a terrible mistake.

  But the call went unanswered. Gun tried again, then shifted to calling directly, listening to the line ring endlessly before it cut off to voicemail. He clenched his phone tightly, his pulse drumming in his ears as he gred at the screen. If Cassius was so unwilling to expin, then he would get his answers another way.

  His resolve hardening, Gun opened his ptop, booking the next avaible flight to Engnd and reserving a hotel nearby. This time, he wouldn’t be taking any chances. He wanted to see Cassius for himself, to confront him face-to-face and find out why he hadn’t been honest. With a few calls, he called in some favours and pulled strings, securing an invitation to the wedding.

  Just before he logged off, a message notification appeared, and he gnced at it, only to see it was from his contact confirming that Troy had received the invitation. Gun exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar burn of betrayal simmering in his chest as he closed his ptop. Cassius might have thought he could keep this hidden, but he was determined to uncover the truth, no matter what it took.

  *

  Gun sank into the plush hotel bed, letting out a deep sigh as he gnced around the room. The weariness of the long flight still clung to him, but there was no time to dwell on exhaustion—not when he had a mission. He turned to his suitcase, unzipping it with a surge of adrenaline, and pulled out the carefully selected outfit he’d managed to assemble in only three days. It was sleek, a tailored bck suit with sharp pels that dipped low over a crisp, charcoal dress shirt. The outfit exuded css with an edge, its perfect cut hinting at his intent to make an unforgettable entrance.

  Gun took his time, inspecting every seam and detail. He knew he’d be a striking figure—a blend of subtle revenge and undeniable allure. He could already imagine Cassius’s stunned reaction when he walked through the door, his every step a reminder that he wasn’t one to be crossed.

  “Perfect,” he murmured to himself with a smirk.

  *

  Gun walked up to the church doors, his heart pounding in his chest. He handed his invitation to the guard, who gave him a quick nod before stepping aside to let him in. His eyes immediately scanned the grand room, but his focus zeroed in on the man at the altar. His back was facing him, but the silhouette, the posture—it was unmistakable.

  Gun’s grip tightened around his invitation as he stepped further into the church, his heels clicking on the polished floor. He pushed through the crowd, feeling his pulse quicken with each step. As he moved closer, everything seemed to slow down, his mind racing with questions. His Cassius—Cassius was supposed to be the groom. Yet, here was a man at the altar, someone who looked disturbingly familiar but entirely wrong.

  What’s going on?

  Gun was so focused on the groom’s back that he didn’t immediately notice Cassius stepping into the church with the other groomsmen. A sick feeling twisted in his stomach.

  Why was Cassius walking in with them as just another man in the crowd? His Cassius was standing at the back, looking out of pce, like an outsider—a far cry from the poised, elegant figure he got to know.

  Confused, Gun reached up to remove his gsses, his gaze locked on Cassius. His heart sank as he tried to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. Who was this man at the altar, and why was Cassius acting as though he didn’t belong here?

  As he stood frozen, listening to the low murmurs of the crowd, Gun overheard two women gossiping just behind him, their voices cutting through the tension in the air.

  “Did you see him?” one of the women said in a low, mocking tone. “Remmington’s got that whole bastard son look about him, doesn’t he?”

  “Ugh, yes, but God, he’s handsome,” the other woman responded, her voice a mix of admiration and disdain. “If only he wasn’t Remmington, the illegitimate son, then maybe he could’ve had a proper chance at all this.”

  Gun’s breath caught in his throat. Remmington? Cassius’s real name?

  “I heard he has other problems, too,” the first woman continued, lowering her voice further, “You know… like, erectile dysfunction. I guess all that power doesn’t make up for what’s between his legs.”

  Gun’s jaw clenched. Erectile dysfunction? My Cassius, the man who had shown me passion, had been reduced to whispers behind his back. Gun’s heart pulsed with anger, and he was about to turn and confront the women when one of them added with a sigh:

  “It’s a shame, really. He could’ve had it all if it weren’t for his bloodline.”

  The second woman snickered. “Well, I guess that’s why he’s stuck pying second fiddle to the real groom.”

  Gun’s eyes snapped to Cassius once more, the pieces finally falling into pce. Cassius wasn’t the groom. He never was. The man at the altar was someone else entirely, and it seemed like Gun had walked into a situation he didn’t fully understand. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the edge of the invitation. Cassius, the man he thought he knew, was standing at the back, hidden among the groomsmen, treated as little more than an outcast.

  His mind whirled as he turned away from the women, his thoughts racing with a thousand questions.

  What is happening here?

  Why is Cassius even at this wedding?

  And why, after everything they shared, was he being humiliated like this?