The Billionaire's Angel In Disguise

"I'm coming to you, baby. Please don't give up and let's get through this together. I love you." He husked.

His hands squeezed the steering, increasing the speed limit of the Maybach with a cellphone trapped between his ear and shoulder.

He heard her groan in agony. This time the doctor spoke, "She's finding it harder to push by each second without your presence, and we're running out of time, Mr. Walton."

He breathed, "Do everything possible to save my wife, please doctor, I'm almost there." Tears shimmered in his eyes as she howled in pain again while he hung up.

His vision blurred as he overtook a truck, not knowing it was a U-turn junction and, like in a trance, he collided with the truck's giant tires.

The last thing he remembered was dizziness while his car somersaulted.

"Master Walton?" His eyes flew open, migraine shooting up his skull, he sighted Kent's vague image leaning over him.

"Kent? Where am I?" He sprang up in alarm.

"My Master is awake, Doctor!" Kent exclaimed and turned to him.

"You were in an accident, Master, don't you remember?" A hint of confusion flashed in his eyes as he jumped to his feet, grabbing his jacket.

"Where are you going to, Master? You're still a patient." He shot a murderous glare at Kent.

"Get me my damn clothes, Kent. My wife is still in the hospital, she needs me!"

Kent trembled with a lowered gaze which made him suspicious.

"Have you turned deaf?!"

"Missus is d...e...ee

He gripped Kent's collar in impatience.

"Spill it, damn it!"

"Missus is dead," Kent confessed.

He slowly released him, staggering backward with a dead expression.

The world seemed to twirl around him, firing stray bullets into his whole body as he saw just one color.

Red, the sign of death.

His world was painted with a deep red color since his soul died along with hers, and he became a walking corpse throughout her funeral.

He neither spoke to anyone nor gave anyone a chance to speak to him, leaving all the funeral arrangements to his valet, Kent.

But he occasionally gave small smiles to the only light she left behind, which was their newborn baby.

The sole reason why he was still breathing. Kent sorted out his son's welfare by introducing a young, fragile girl to him.

He doubted if she even had the bones for the job but hoped for Kent's assurance and interviewed her.

She mumbled every answer to his queries and couldn't hold a stare at him that frustration ticked his being.

"If you need this job, you need to speak up, so I won't blindly hire a dumb person."

"Elena!" She suddenly corrected in a high-pitched voice that startled him, but didn't show much in his expression.

"That's it! That's how you should speak, but not so loud next time Se... Uhm Elena. And I trust you're experienced with babies in fact, Kent told me your agency claims you're a professional."

"Yes Sir, I love babies." She confirmed with a broad smile.

"Just call me Mr. Walton and you can start tomorrow," he said.

"I'll start today if you permit me, can I?" She seemed enthusiastic about starting such a tedious job, which baffled him, as most nannies preferred toddlers to newly born infants.

One week into the job, he was blown away by her expertise and her preciseness when it came to his son's health and happiness. She took on the role of a parent instead of a nanny that it relieved him so much except for one fateful morning.

She broke his wife's portrait hung on the wall while cleaning.

"Who told you to touch that! He exploded and she instantly broke down in tears.

"I can get a new frame arranged today, Master." Kent chimed in through the doorway.

"Selena loved that frame Kent. Will you take responsibility for her mistake?" He fired back and turned to leave, but Kent's crisp voice halted him.

"But Missus' name was Isabel. Who's Selena, Master?"

He pivoted to meet Kent's dumbstruck look, which made him challenge his memory.

"You don't remember, Master?"

"I'll go get your pills then." Kent added when he noticed his bewildered look, which he was trying to hide.

Shame flushed through his body and he yearned to stab his guts.

How could he have forgotten his wife's name? He only lived for her memories, yet he didn't even remember her name?

"Get out! Both of you!" He snarled.

They both scurried off for a second, and he slowly crouched to pick up her photo from the broken glasses.

"F**k can't even remember your name. I'm so sorry." He cursed, as a lump rose in his throat. Unexpectedly, a voice shrieked from behind.

"Mr. Walton, Justin isn't breathing!" Jolted, he scrambled to his feet, seeing her puffy eyes and shivering body.

"What happened?" He stammered, approaching her with a pounding chest.

"I think he's..... she paused to wail, and he violently shook her shoulders.

"What!"

"I think he's dead." She trembled.

Unable to utter a word, he dashed into his son's room, a knife piercing through his heart at the sight of Justin's limp body in a crib.

"No, no, no please, no, don't leave Daddy." He pleaded, taking his son into his arms as a tear dropped from his eyes.

Soon, the ambulance blared outside, Kent and Elena hurried in, and they all went to the hospital.

"Thanks to the admission of CPR to your son by his nanny, unless he wouldn't have made it alive." The Doctor revealed.

Elena saved his life. Justin was his life. There couldn't be a better mother figure than her. In his eyes, she was perfect.