Hidden Identity: Becoming the mafia heiress after being blind

I sat frozen as Marcus knelt before me, my mind racing with everything I'd just witnessed. His fingers brushed against my hand, and I jerked back with a startled gasp, playing the part of the blind fiancée who hadn't sensed his approach.

"Whoa, easy there," Marcus said, his voice softening to that careful tone he always used with me. The same voice he'd just used with Tifa, but different somehow. Practiced. Perfected.

His fingers reached up and gently removed my earphones.

"You okay, Tef? Feeling good today?"

I swallowed hard, forcing my face into the pleasant, grateful expression I'd worn for five years. The tears burned behind my eyes, threatening to spill over and reveal everything. I nodded, lips curved into what I hoped was a convincing smile.

Marcus's thumb brushed across my cheek. "What's wrong, darling?" His concern sounded so genuine that for a split second, I almost believed it. Almost forgot what I'd just witnessed.

"Nothing," I whispered, my voice steadier than I expected. The lie felt strange on my tongue after years of dependency and honesty. But now I understood, our entire relationship had been built on lies.

His lies. And now mine.

The question rose up from somewhere deep inside me, escaping before I could stop it.

"Would you leave me for another woman, Marcus?"

I felt Marcus's body go rigid. His hand on my cheek froze, then slowly pulled away. The silence stretched between us, thick with tension.

"What?" he finally managed, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. I heard the rustle of fabric as he turned, toward Tifa, I imagined, though I kept my gaze unfocused.

"Why would you ask me that?" His voice strained for casualness but landed somewhere closer to panic.

I shrugged, maintaining my blank expression. "Just because I wanted to." I twisted my hands in my lap, playing up my vulnerability. "I mean, no one would want to marry or date a dead weight like me. I'm blind, after all."

The words tasted bitter on my tongue, words I'd thought in my darkest moments after the accident, but had never voiced aloud. Now I wielded them like a weapon, watching through barely-focused eyes as Marcus's face transformed.

His expression twisted, features rearranging into something that resembled sadness. His brows drew together, lips turning downward at the corners. If I hadn't seen him with Tifa minutes earlier, I might have believed it was genuine concern.

"Of course not, darling," he said, voice dropping to that special tone he reserved for me, the voice you'd use with a child. "I love you so much." His hands captured mine, squeezing with calculated pressure. "And you are not a dead weight."

I felt Tifa's presence shift somewhere behind him, the subtle change in the air, a barely audible intake of breath. I wondered if she was smirking at his performance or if she felt even a flicker of guilt.

"You're everything to me," Marcus continued, thumb stroking over my knuckles. "I've stayed by your side for six years, haven't I? Through everything?"

Yes, I thought bitterly. Maybe all six years were a lie.

…

I lay still in our bed, listening to Marcus's footsteps fade down the hallway. The familiar click of the front door told me he was gone, off to Tifa, no doubt. The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

"Working late again," I whispered to the empty room, my voice dripping with newfound bitterness.

The moment his car engine faded, I sat up and reached for my phone on the nightstand. My fingers trembled as I navigated through the screens. Years of blindness had made me adept at using technology without sight, but the sensation of actually seeing the bright display still startled me.

I pulled up the Tor browser I'd installed earlier that day. The dark web. A place I'd only heard about before my accident.

The forum appeared and I found the thread about "disappearing services" and scrolled until I found what I needed.

GhostProtocol.

*We erase people. New identities. New lives. No questions asked.*

My heart hammered against my ribs as I copied the contact information. This was it—my escape plan. I typed a message, keeping it simple:

*Need to disappear. Completely. How soon?*

The reply came faster than I expected:

*Verification required. Transfer $500 to enclosed wallet. Further instructions follow.*

I hesitated only briefly before completing the transfer from the secret account I'd set up. The one Marcus knew nothing about.

Three minutes later, my phone buzzed:

*Tomorrow. 10AM. 1567 Harborview Warehouse District. Northeast entrance. Come alone. Bring cash. $50,000 minimum. No electronics. No surveillance. One chance only.*

I deleted the messages, cleared the browser history, and set my phone down. Fifty thousand dollars. Almost everything I had saved from before the accident. The money my parents had left me that Marcus thought was tied up in trusts he couldn't access.

"Worth every penny," I whispered, lying back down and pulling the covers up to my chin.

Soon, Teffid Wilson would cease to exist.