Chương 5
Because telling her the truth meant opening the door he had spent years keeping locked.
And behind that door was the reason he had built the entire lie of Don Sebastian Montemayor.
The secret Sebastian had protected for years was not about his money.
It was not about his scars.
It was not even about the accident that changed his life.
The truth was something far more personal.
Something he believed would make Clara look at him differently.
The following morning, Clara woke up before sunrise.
She lay still for several minutes, staring at the ceiling above the bed.
The mansion was quiet at that hour.
Without the movement of staff, without business calls, without people pretending everything was normal, the house felt almost honest.
She turned her head toward the empty side of the bed.
Sebastian had not slept there.
He rarely did.
But lately, she had started noticing that he stayed closer.
He would work in the nearby office instead of disappearing to another part of the mansion.
He would ask if she had eaten.
He would wait for her before dinner even when he claimed he was not hungry.
Small things.
Things that meant nothing to strangers.
Things that meant everything to someone who had spent years being kept at a distance.
She found him outside near the garden.
He was sitting alone with a cup of coffee, watching the workers trim the hedges.
“You’re awake early,” she said.
Sebastian looked over.
“So are you.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He looked back at the garden.
“Because of the articles?”
“Because of you.”
The answer made him tense.
Clara sat in the chair beside him.
“I know something is happening.”
“There is nothing happening.”
“That’s not true.”
He stayed quiet.
She waited.
Finally, he said,
“You should be angry with me.”
The words confused her.
“Why?”
“Because you married someone you don’t know.”
Clara looked at him carefully.
“I know enough.”
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“That’s the problem.”
The wind moved through the trees.
For a moment, he looked less like the powerful billionaire everyone feared.
He looked like a man who was tired of carrying something heavy.
“I wasn’t always like this,” he said.
“I know.”
“You don’t know the worst parts.”
Clara did not answer.
Sebastian looked down at his hands.
“I was twenty-nine when everything changed.”
He rarely spoke about the past.
When he did, his words came slowly, as if each one had to pass through something painful first.
“I was running my company after my father died.”
“You built it yourself.”
“I rebuilt it.”
A faint smile appeared.
“There’s a difference.”
Clara listened.
“I was arrogant.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t seem arrogant.”
“That’s because you met me after life removed it.”
He took a breath.
“I believed money could solve anything.”
He looked toward the mansion.
“I thought if I became successful enough, nobody could ever make me feel powerless again.”
Clara understood more than she wanted to admit.
Because she had spent years believing hard work could protect her from her father’s mistakes.
It had not.
“The accident happened during a business trip,” Sebastian continued.
“Afterward, everything changed.”
“The scars.”
He nodded.
“The scars were the easiest part.”
Clara frowned slightly.
“Easiest?”
“Yes.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“The hardest part was waking up and realizing people treated me differently before I even spoke.”
She stayed silent.
“They saw my face.”
He touched the scar near his cheek.
“They saw my body.”
His hand lowered.
“And they decided they already knew me.”
Clara felt something tighten in her chest.
Because she had seen the same thing happen.
Not with scars.
With poverty.
With her last name.
With her father’s debt.
“But that still doesn’t explain why you hide something now,” she said.
Sebastian looked away.
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
“It doesn’t.”
Before she could ask more, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen and immediately his expression changed.
Not fear.
Annoyance mixed with concern.
He answered.
“Victor.”
A pause.
Then his jaw tightened.
“Send me everything.”
He ended the call.
Clara noticed.
“What happened?”
Sebastian stood.
“The journalist who published the article received documents.”
“What documents?”
He hesitated.
“Financial records.”
“About my father?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Can they prove something?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Then slower.
“But someone wants people to think they can.”
The situation became worse over the next few days.
The story grew beyond gossip.
Investors started asking questions.
Business partners requested explanations.
Sebastian’s company released a statement, but statements rarely stopped people from believing what they wanted.
Clara watched the damage spread.
She saw Sebastian become more distant with every phone call.
She saw him carry responsibility that was not entirely his.
And she saw something else.
Fear.
Not fear of losing money.
Fear of losing control.
One evening, Clara entered his office and found him staring at a document.
He immediately folded it closed.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
She crossed her arms.
“You really need a better answer.”
Sebastian almost smiled.
“You always do that.”
“What?”
“Make it impossible for me to avoid a conversation.”
“Maybe because you avoid too many.”
He looked down.
The document remained between them.
Clara moved closer.
“Is this about the accident?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
She noticed.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because every time someone gets close to the truth about you, you disappear.”
He looked at her.
“You’ve been paying attention.”
“Yes.”
A long silence followed.
Then Sebastian opened the drawer and removed a small envelope.
He placed it on the desk.
“What is that?”
“Something I never wanted anyone to see.”
Clara did not touch it.
“Why show me now?”
“Because I’m tired.”
The honesty in his voice surprised her.
“I’m tired of pretending I don’t care.”
He looked at the envelope.
“I’m tired of people believing a version of me that isn’t real.”
Clara waited.
Sebastian opened it.
May you like
Inside was an old photograph.
But this time, it was not a picture of him before the accident.
