It was no longer hoarse or strained—
it was deep, smooth, and irresistibly confident.
“Emily… look at me.”
Slowly, Sebastian stood up from the wheelchair.
Emily gasped.
“Y-you can stand?”
“There’s a lot I can do,” he said with a faint smile.
He turned to the mirror, reached behind his neck, and peeled away a thin strip of silicone.
Emily’s eyes widened.
Sebastian removed the prosthetic mask that made his face appear scarred and swollen.
He unfastened the heavy fat suit wrapped around his body.
He removed the artificial bald cap.
Within minutes, “The Billionaire Beast” disappeared.
Standing before Emily was a man in his early thirties—
tall, muscular, sharp-featured, devastatingly handsome.
Sebastian Whitmore.
His true self.
Emily collapsed onto the bed in shock.
“W-who are you?”
Sebastian knelt before her and took her hands.
“It’s still me, Emily. Bash,” he said softly.
“B-but why? Why pretend?”
“I was tired,” Sebastian confessed.
“Every woman loved me for my looks and my money. When Vanessa betrayed me, I swore I would never marry again until I found someone who loved my soul—not my body.”
Tears filled his eyes.