Chapter Five – Nathan’s Mask

They said my wife was dead.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry. I just sat there, whiskey in my hand, Melissa curled against me when the news broke across the TV screen.

“Rachel Williams, wife of CEO Nathan Williams, and rival businessman Dave Collins die in a fatal car crash.”

Melissa gasped dramatically, then smirked as the reporter kept talking. “See? The problem solved itself. The deaf wife is finally gone.”

I swirled my glass slowly, watching the amber liquid catch the light. A weight lifted off me, one I’d carried for too damn long. Rachel, my liability was out of the picture.

“Wow,” I whispered, a grin tugging at my lips. “Just wow. So you ended up dead after all, Rachel.”

Melissa laughed, kissing the side of my jaw. “And now nothing stands between us.”

I let her cling to me, though in truth, Rachel’s death was more valuable than Melissa’s embrace. Rachel was a problem a woman who tied me down, who reminded me every day that I owed her my life. The kidney, the bullet, her deaf ears it all made her a chain around my neck.

And now? Freedom.

The next morning, I had to put on my mask.

I wore my finest black suit, tie knotted perfectly. At work, the vultures were already waiting: reporters swarming outside my building. Cameras flashing, mics shoved in my face.

“Mr. Williams,” one shouted, “what were your wife and Dave Collins doing together before the accident?”

I stopped, lowering my gaze. I let my shoulders sag, my lips tremble. The perfect performance.

“I… I don’t know,” I choked out, clutching my chest. “But why? Why would my lovely wife leave me so soon? Why is this world so unfair?” I forced my eyes to glisten, even rubbed them for effect. “Rachel was my everything. I think…” I paused, swallowing hard. “I think it was all Dave’s plan to kill her to get to me. But fate… fate made him die with her.”

A sniff. A wipe of my cheek. Cameras clicked faster.

“All I know,” I finished, voice breaking, “is that I will give her the most befitting burial. That’s the least I can do for my beloved wife.”

Gasps. Sympathy. They were buying it. Every word.

I raised a hand as if the grief was too heavy. “Please… excuse me.”

And the moment I turned my back on them, the corners of my mouth curved upward. A victorious smile hidden from the cameras.

The game was mine.

Two days later, I walked into the mortuary with two of my men behind me. The air was thick, the stench of chemicals burning my nose. I tapped my fingers against the counter. “I came for Rachel Williams and Dave Collins. I want their bodies for burial.”

The attendant looked nervous. “Yes, sir. But… there’s a problem.”

My jaw tightened. “Problem?”

“The bodies… they decayed faster than normal. We had to burn them to preserve what was left. You can’t recognize them anymore.”

I narrowed my eyes. Burnt? Decayed too fast? It sounded sloppy, but in truth, I didn’t care. I didn’t need her face. I needed the symbol of her death.

“Bring me what’s left,” I ordered coldly.

Minutes later, black bags were rolled out. Ashes of strangers, for all I knew. Didn’t matter. For the world, Rachel Williams was gone.

The burial was grand, exactly as I planned. A sea of people dressed in black filled the cemetery. Cameras flashed, journalists whispered.

I stood tall at the front, Melissa beside me pretending to weep into a lace handkerchief. Her performance wasn’t half as good as mine.

I lowered my head, voice breaking at the right moments. “Rachel… my beloved wife. Life has stolen you from me too soon. Dave… my rival. Today, we lay you both to rest.”

Murmurs of sympathy spread through the crowd. Dave’s family cried like children, collapsing into each other. Perfect. Their grief only made mine look more convincing.

When it was over, I let my men handle the rest. I walked away with Melissa’s arm hooked in mine, the world believing I was a broken man.

But inside? I was smiling.

That night, Melissa arrived at my mansion with her suitcases. Dozens of them. She carried gowns, jewellery, perfumes, and boxes of designer heels. She strutted inside like she already owned the place.

I leaned back on the couch, sipping whiskey. “So, you’ve moved in.”

She dropped her veil, smirking. “Where else would I be? The dead wife left a vacuum. I intend to fill it.”

I laughed. “Good. Then let’s drink to a new beginning.”

Glasses clinked. Her laugh rang out, sharp and victorious.

But as I watched her prance around my home, a thought slid into my mind. Rachel, always Rachel, dead, but still haunting me.

I never loved her. She was useful once. She saved my life, gave me her kidney, and even jumped in front of a bullet for me. But love? No. Love was weakness. She was deaf, fragile, and a liability. She held me back.

And yet… for one moment, as the crowd wept at her burial, I felt something cold tighten in my chest. Not love, not grief either, but Something else.

Was it guilt?

No. Impossible.

I pushed it down with another sip of whiskey, Melissa’s laughter echoing in my ears.

Rachel was gone. I had won.

Or so I thought.

Dad’s voice broke the silence.

“Rachel… what do you intend to do now?”

The weight of his question crushed into me. I stared at him, then at Mom, their eyes holding both worry and pride. My throat tightened. For a second, I wanted to run again to escape all of it. But then my gaze shifted to Dave's steady, calm, waiting. He didn’t rush me, didn’t push me. He just looked at me like I could carry the whole world and not collapse.

I swallowed. “I’m… I’m going back with you,” I whispered. My voice trembled, but I forced myself to go on. “I’ll resume my duty, my life, as who I really am. As… Ms. Belira.”

Dad’s eyes widened, Mom’s hand flew to her mouth. The air shifted. For the first time in years, I felt like I wasn’t hiding anymore. I was standing in my truth.

Then I turned back to Dave. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Thank you… for everything. I don’t even know how to pay you back.”

Dave’s lips curved into that small smile that always unsettled me. “Just love me,” he said softly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

My chest tightened. My heart stumbled. He didn’t say it like a demand. He said it like a prayer. Like it was all he wanted.

I blinked, fighting the sting in my eyes. “Dave…”

“Rachel.” He stepped closer, his voice lower now, almost rough. “You’ve been fighting alone for too long. Let me fight with you. Not because of CloudTech. Not because of your name. Because of you.”

I let out a shaky laugh, wiping the tears that slipped free. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “But I’m your kind of crazy.”

That cracked something inside me. The heaviness of months, years, lifted, replaced by a warmth I didn’t even know I could still feel. I laughed again, this time with no tears, and the sound startled even me.

Dad cleared his throat, pretending not to smile. “Well… that settles it, then.”

Mom leaned forward, eyes glistening. “Our daughter is finally coming home.”

I reached for Dave’s hand instinctively. His fingers closed around mine, firm, grounding. We all laughed, the kind that came from relief, from knowing storms had passed—even if new ones were waiting.

In that moment, I wasn’t the broken wife Nathan had crushed. I wasn’t even just the heiress of CloudTech.

I was Rachel Belira. And I wasn’t running anymore.