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.

I counted the steps in my head, the familiar rhythm of my cane tapping against concrete. One-two-three-tap. One-two-three-tap. A performance I'd mastered over five years, now serving its final purpose.

"Are you sure about this, Miss Wilson?" Hector's voice carried that familiar mix of concern and deference. The mansion's head of security had driven me in silence most of the way, but now that we'd stopped, his professional mask slipped.

I tilted my head in his general direction, careful to keep my eyes unfocused as I'd done countless times before. "Absolutely. My friend knows this area well. She'll be here any minute."

"I should wait with you. Mr. Borat would—"

"Mr. Borat," I interrupted, injecting just enough firmness into my voice, "would understand that I need some independence." I smiled, the practiced, brave smile I'd perfected. "Please, Hector. I'll be fine."

The weight of his hesitation hung between us. I heard him shift in his seat, keys jingling.

"I'll call when I'm ready to return," I added, fingers tightening around my cane.

"Very well, Miss Wilson." The resignation in his voice meant victory. "Please be careful."

I nodded, pushing open the car door. The morning air hit my face, carrying the scent of salt and rust from the nearby harbor. I extended my cane, making a show of finding the curb, tapping methodically as I moved away from the vehicle.

Hector's engine idled for what felt like an eternity before finally receding into the distance. Only then did I straighten my shoulders, my cane movements becoming more efficient rather than theatrical.

The warehouse district loomed around me, abandoned buildings with shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls. I kept my head down, still playing blind until I rounded the corner and confirmed I was alone.

Then I looked up.

A single black van sat at the end of the alley, windows tinted so dark they reflected the morning light like obsidian mirrors. No markings, no license plate. The northeast entrance, just as promised.

I quickened my pace toward the van, my heart pounding in my throat.

The van's side door slid open. Before I could react, hands grabbed me, yanking me inside. A scream tore from my lungs as the door slammed shut behind me.

"Quiet!" A harsh whisper cut through the darkness. "You're safe."

My eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Three figures in black balaclavas surrounded me, their faces expressionless fabric with eyeholes. The van smelled of cigarettes and cheap coffee.

"Teffid Wilson?" The driver didn't turn around, just watched me in the rearview mirror.

I nodded, my mouth dry. "Yes."

"ID." The figure beside me extended a gloved hand.

I fumbled through my purse, fingers trembling as I handed over my driver's license—expired five years ago when my world went dark.

"Birth certificate? Social security card?"

I passed them the documents one by one. The third figure typed rapidly on a laptop, the screen's glow illuminating their masked face in eerie blue.

"You understand what disappearing means?" The driver's eyes never left mine in the mirror. "No contact with anyone from your past. Ever. No exceptions."

"I understand." My voice came out stronger than I expected.

"Fifty thousand. Transfer it now."

I pulled out my phone, navigating to the banking app. The transaction completed with a soft ping that seemed to echo in the cramped space.

"Five days." The figure with the laptop turned the screen toward me, showing a countdown clock. "We'll contact you with your new identity. Until then, act normal."

Five more days with Marcus. Five more days of his lies, his manipulation, his hands on me while he thought I couldn't see the lipstick stains on his collar or the text messages from her.

"Five days," I repeated, a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Second thoughts?" The driver's eyes narrowed in the mirror.

"No." I shook my head. "None at all."

I slid out of the van and it peeled away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the weight of my decision.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Probably Hector checking on me. I pulled it out, squinting at the bright screen. My eyes went wide as I read the message.

"I know you can see."

My breath caught. The phone nearly slipped from my fingers as I read the four words again. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Who could possibly—

A car horn blared behind me, the sound slicing through the morning quiet. I jumped, fumbling to shove my phone back into my pocket.

"Teffid? What the hell are you doing here?"

The familiar voice made my heart drop.

Marcus's voice.

I froze, my fingers tightening around my cane. The familiar scent of his cologne drifted toward me.

His car door slammed and I could hear his footsteps approaching, each one felt like a hammer blowing against my chest.

"Hector said you were meeting a friend." His voice carried that special tone—concern wrapped around suspicion, "In the warehouse district? At this hour?"

I turned slowly, carefully keeping my eyes unfocused, staring just past his left shoulder. My mind raced through possibilities, explanations, lies.

"I got the address wrong," I managed, my voice small. "My friend was supposed to—"

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

My blood turned to ice. Five years of blindness, and he'd never once said those words.

"I am looking at you, Marcus." The lie felt like glass in my throat.

His hand gripped my chin, tilting my face up toward his. His thumb pressed into my cheek, just below my right eye.

"Are you?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you really, Teffid?"