Hidden Identity: Becoming the mafia heiress after being blind

When I caught my fiancé making love to his mistress in our bedroom, I kept my face carefully blank, my eyes unfocused as they had been for five years. But for the first time since my "accident," I could see everything.

"She can't see," Marcus whispered to the woman, not bothering to lower his voice enough. "We have a few minutes."

Five years of darkness, of him guiding me through doorways, reading to me at night, playing the devoted partner to his blind fiancée. All while she was there, in our bed, in our home.

"Are you sure she can't see anything?" the woman giggled, her hands roaming over his body.

"Nothing," Marcus replied, already unbuttoning his shirt. "Convenient, isn't it?"

I sat frozen in my chair, maintaining my vacant stare as they undressed. Years of blindness had taught me how to hide my reactions when I couldn't see others' faces. Now those same skills helped me mask the fact that I could see everything.

Including the truth about the man I'd trusted with my life.