I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge
Chapter 27: Dead Rats

Chapter 27: Dead Rats

The soft hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the silence between William and Anna.

The moment they stepped out of the restaurant, the warmth William had shown her vanished entirely, as if it had been nothing more than a fleeting performance.

In its place, an unsettling coldness settled over him, his once affectionate presence now distant and unreadable. His sharp features were expressionless, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, giving no indication of the man who had just held her so tenderly minutes ago.

A shiver ran down Anna’s spine. Unnerved by the sudden shift, she instinctively pressed herself against the car door, creating as much distance as possible between them. Though her tears had stopped, the tension in her posture betrayed the storm still raging inside her.

William watched her in silence from his side of the car, letting the quiet stretch between them, giving her space to collect herself. But as the seconds dragged on, his patience began to wear thin. Exhaling sharply, he finally broke the silence.

"What happened back there? Why did you panic?"

Anna hesitated. There was no simple answer. No words that could neatly explain the suffocating dread that had gripped her chest.

She didn’t want to lie, but the truth felt equally impossible to put into words. Logically, there had been no real reason for her to panic—no imminent danger, no direct threat—yet her heart had refused to listen to reason.

Her fingers curled against the fabric of her dress, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry... I just wasn’t ready. First Susanne, then Robert... I’m not ready to face my enemies yet."

William’s brow furrowed, a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes. For some reason, her words irritated him. Maybe it was the way she spoke about her past, the weight of it still pressing down on her. Or maybe, it was something else entirely—something he refused to acknowledge.

His voice was low when he responded, "Is that really the case? Or do you still love your ex-husband?"

Anna hesitated, a flood of tangled emotions surging through her mind. She wanted to believe the words she had spoken, even if, deep down, they felt like a carefully constructed lie. Taking a steady breath, she shook her head and finally answered.

"No, it’s not love. But I’m not ready to hate him either. Even when someone you trust for years betrays you and shatters your heart, you can’t just erase the feelings you once had for them in an instant. It doesn’t work like that.

Even with all the pain, the only way to truly move on is to let your heart heal first. Unfortunately..." Her voice softened, a sad smile touching her lips. "There’s no plastic surgeon for the heart."

The moment the words left her lips, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Before William could notice, she quickly turned her head away and wiped it off, as if refusing to acknowledge her own pain.

William let out a long sigh, rubbing his eyes with a hand, as though he were exhausted—not just physically, but by something deeper, something he wasn’t willing to put into words.

"Do you think I’m pathetic?" Anna murmured, still not turning to face him.

She braced herself for a reprimand, expecting him to chastise her for being weak. But instead, his voice came calm and steady, delivering words she hadn’t anticipated.

"Sometimes, it’s easy to just cry—to let yourself break down and drown in your misery. But I don’t want you to shed your tears so easily over disgusting people like your ex. While you’re with me, there should be no room for that kind of weakness."

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his fingers gently cupping her cheek. His touch was warm, yet firm, forcing her to focus on his presence. His striking eyes held her captive.

"I’ll say this one last time," he murmured, his voice lower now, "If you need me to help you forget about your ex-husband, just say the word. I mean it."

Anna sniffled, stubbornly swallowing down another tear. "What is that word?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

William scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk at her almost innocent question. "That’s for you to decide."

There was something in his tone—something teasing yet laced with an undercurrent of meaning—that sent warmth rushing to her cheeks.

Her mind betrayed her, immediately dragging her back to the restaurant, to the lingering heat of his kiss. Was that what he meant? His feigned affection, his fleeting warmth, the way his touch could so easily steal her breath? Could she really use all of that to forget—to finally let go?

"I know you need closure," William’s voice cut through her swirling thoughts, grounding her back in reality. "I’m here to give you one."

Anna’s fingers twitched slightly, tightening around the fabric of her skirt. Closure? She swallowed. How?

Her lips parted, but before she could form a response, the driver’s voice interrupted.

"We’re here, Mr. Stark."

The car rolled to a smooth stop, and the driver promptly stepped out, moving to open Anna’s door.

William leaned in slightly before exiting, his voice dropping to a quieter, more enigmatic tone. "I want you to hear something that might make things a little easier for you."

Without another word, he stepped out of the vehicle, then turned to her, gently offering his arm. Anna hesitated before slipping her fingers around his forearm, allowing him to guide her forward.

The moment she stepped inside the building, a slight chill ran down her spine. Their footsteps echoed in the vast, open space, bouncing off what felt like towering walls of stone.

She couldn’t see where they were, but her senses sharpened, filling in the gaps. The crisp scent of polished floors. The faintest creak of a distant door. The way their footsteps reverberated suggested high ceilings, large halls—somewhere grand, but eerily empty.

As they walked, Anna’s heart began to pick up pace, mirroring their fast, purposeful steps. Each thump resounded in her chest like the beat of a drum, growing louder, more insistent.

They ascended a flight of stairs, the steady rhythm of their movement only adding to her unease. Then, after passing through a couple of doors, they stopped.

A pause. A quiet knock.

"Mr. Singer?"

A flurry of hurried footsteps echoed toward them, followed by the sharp creak of an old door swinging open.

"Ah, Mr. Stark!" The man greeted William with a wide, eager grin, his lips stretching with every syllable. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t make it today. Please, come in."

William responded with a small nod before giving Anna’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze—his silent way of urging her forward. Though a slight hesitation flickered across her face, she stepped across the threshold, her fingers unconsciously tightening around his.

Inside, the man gestured toward the chairs across from his desk while he turned toward a tall, wooden shelf to his right, rifling through stacks of disorganized folders. The faint rustle of paper filled the room as he muttered under his breath.

"I apologize, Mr. Stark," he said, shaking his head in mild frustration. "I had everything prepared for you this morning, but my assistant—bless her heart—just had to misplace them again! Ah!" His voice lifted in triumph as he plucked a thick folder from the cluttered shelf. "Here we are. Mrs. Anna Hyde."

Anna flinched at the mention of her name, her body stiffening as her head snapped toward the man—Mr. Singer.

William’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, a silent command to stay quiet.

"Is our agreement still valid?" William asked, his tone even but firm as Mr. Singer settled into his seat.

The man flashed a knowing smile and gave an easy nod. "You pay, I talk."

He flipped open the folder and slid it across the desk, his finger tapping pointedly at a line of text near the middle of the page. "Here. I make notes of everything—just for the fun of it."

William barely spared the document a glance before shifting his gaze back to Mr. Singer. His voice, now edged with intensity, cut through the room like a blade.

"Read that line out loud."

Mr. Singer didn’t hesitate. Clearing his throat, he recited the words with clinical precision.

"Anna Hyde. The date of cremation: April 11th, 2023, at 11:15 AM. Regular tin urn designated for the general disposal of unclaimed ashes."

A heavy pause settled over the room.

Anna’s breath hitched, her fingers twitching slightly in William’s grasp.

Then, William spoke again, his voice unyielding.

"And what exactly did you burn?"

The man grinned, smacking his lips once more as if savoring the absurdity of his own words. "Now, that was the strangest thing, Mr. Stark. It wasn’t a body at all. It was a bag of dead rats!"

Anna’s breath faltered, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as an icy shiver crawled down her spine.

Rats. Dead rats. A whole bag of them.

They could have staged a cremation, filled a cheap urn with sand or ashes, and called it done. But instead... this.

Her stomach twisted, nausea rising as the sheer horror of it settled in. The depth of deception, the callousness—it was beyond anything she had imagined.

Sensing the tremor in her hand, William covered it with his own, his touch warm and steady. He leaned in, his lips mere inches from her ear, his voice a quiet, dangerous whisper meant only for her.

"So... are you ready to fill another bag with dead rats, Ms. Dumas?"

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