Chapter Eight: Beneath the Mask

Ariella’s pulse roared in her ears as she stared at Lucien, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“There’s a reason you were never told the full truth, Ariella. About your father. About your family.”

The room tilted.

“My mother?” Her voice cracked. “What does she have to do with this?”

But before Lucien could answer, a loud crash echoed through the hallway. Both of them turned sharply.

“Stay here,” Lucien said in a clipped tone, reaching for the drawer by the bookshelf.

“No, wait—” But he was already out the door.

Ariella’s heart pounded as she stood frozen. Then, curiosity—and fear—drove her after him. She crept silently into the hallway, where the lights flickered as if the house itself had sensed something dark approaching.

Suddenly, a shadow darted past her. She gasped, turning, but there was no one. The tension in the air thickened, wrapping around her like a shroud.

A door creaked open behind her.

She spun around—

A figure stood at the end of the hallway. Dressed in black, face completely hidden behind a matte white mask. Silent. Motionless.

“Who… who are you?” Ariella took a step back.

The masked figure tilted their head slightly. Then in one swift motion, they closed the distance between them.

A hand shot out—

SLAP!

The sharp sting exploded across her cheek. Ariella stumbled, crashing against the wall, her vision swimming.

She let out a strangled cry.

Before she could scream again, the masked figure leaned in, whispering:

“You ask too many questions, Mrs. Draven. Stay in your place, or you’ll end up just like your father.”

Her blood ran cold.

But then—shouts, footsteps. The masked figure vanished into the shadows just as Lucien and two guards rounded the corner.

Lucien rushed to her side. “Ariella! What happened?”

She shook her head, still trembling. “There was someone… a masked person. They hit me. They—they threatened me!”

His eyes darkened, rage flickering in his features. “Get the security footage now,” he barked at one of the guards. “And double the patrol around her quarters.”

As Lucien helped her back to the room, Ariella clung to him, confused by the safety she felt in the arms of the man she had once believed to be her enemy.

She collapsed onto the bed, and Lucien knelt before her. “Did they say anything else?”

“They mentioned my father. And they threatened me.”

Lucien’s jaw clenched. “You’re not safe here anymore.”

“But this is your house—”

“No. Not even this house is safe when ghosts of the past are watching.”

Ariella blinked at him. “Do you think Elise sent them?”

Lucien hesitated, then stood slowly. “There are many people who don’t want the truth to come out. Elise might just be one of them.”

The door opened suddenly—Elise.

“Oh? What’s all the noise?” she asked innocently, her eyes drifting between Lucien and Ariella.

Lucien’s voice was like steel. “Someone attacked my wife.”

Elise gasped. “Oh no! How terrible! Do you think it was someone from outside?”

Ariella stared at her, heart racing. Her cheek still burned where she’d been struck.

Elise’s concern looked real.

But Ariella wasn’t sure anymore what was real. Or who.

“I’ll make sure the guards are alert,” Elise said sweetly before walking away.

Lucien turned back to Ariella. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”

But as he walked out, Ariella whispered to herself, “The truth is already bleeding through the cracks.”

Ariella stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat. The shadows around her seemed to shift, warping into strange shapes as her mind tried to piece everything together. Lucien’s silence was louder than any scream. It was the silence of secrets rotting beneath the surface for far too long.

Then the lights flickered.

She barely had time to react.

A sudden gust of wind blew in through the hallway window, slamming a door somewhere in the mansion. Footsteps echoed—fast, heavy, purposeful.

Elise turned her head toward the noise, eyes narrowing. “Stay here,” she muttered to Ariella before storming down the corridor in her silk nightrobe like a general going to war.

But Ariella didn’t listen.

She followed.

The sound led them both to the east wing. A place she was told never to go. A place sealed off since her father’s death.

Lucien was already there when they arrived, standing beside a portrait—one Ariella had never noticed before. It was of a woman, striking and fierce, with Ariella’s eyes but a colder, deadlier stare. Her mother.

Before she could speak, a loud noise came from behind.

A masked figure emerged from the shadows.

Tall. Dressed in black from head to toe.

Elise shouted, “Guards!”

But they didn’t come.

And in the next second, the figure lunged at Ariella.

She stumbled back, but not fast enough. A hand whipped through the air and struck her hard across the face. The slap rang out like a gunshot.

Pain exploded across her cheek, and she dropped to the floor, dazed.

Elise screamed and reached for her, but Lucien was faster. He tackled the figure, and they both crashed to the ground in a blur of violence and grunts.

The mask slipped off during the struggle.

Ariella blinked, blood rushing to her ears. Her vision cleared just enough to see the face beneath the mask.

Her mouth dropped open.

It was Darius—her father’s old bodyguard.

But… he was supposed to be dead.

“Darius?” she gasped.

Lucien held him down, pressing a knee into his chest. “You’ve been hiding in my house? After everything?”

Dariu's eyes darted to Ariella. “They lied to you. All of them.”

“Why did you hit me?” she cried.

“I needed you to stop digging,” Darius growled. “You’re not ready for the truth.”

Lucien tightened his grip. “She has the right to know!”

Darius voice cracked. “Her life is in danger the moment she learns. You don’t understand. The blood debt wasn’t just about her father. It’s about her.”

Ariella’s body trembled. “Me?”

Darius looked at her with something between pity and regret. “You were born into this. A family legacy soaked in betrayal. You think marrying him was about love or punishment?” He jerked his head toward Lucien. “No. It was protection.”

Elise knelt beside Ariella, her hands shaking. “He’s telling the truth.”

Ariella turned to Elise, horrified. “You knew?”

“I didn’t want you to suffer,” Elise said softly. “I tried to keep you in the dark for your safety.”

Lucien stood and yanked Darius up by the collar. “Why come back now?”

“Because the people who killed her father…” Darius voice dropped to a whisper, “...they’re coming for her next.”

A chill ran down Ariella’s spine.

Lucien pushed Darius to a wall, fury contorting his features. “Who are they?”

But Darius only smiled bitterly, blood trickling from his lip. “You already know.”

Lucien froze.

His silence was the answer.

“No,” Ariella whispered, backing away. “No. You said you didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t,” Lucien said, slowly facing her. “But the people I once trusted… did.”

She shook her head, her whole body aching. “This was supposed to be a fake marriage. A way to clear a debt. Not—this.”

Elise finally spoke again, her voice barely audible. “Your father knew something. He uncovered things he wasn’t supposed to. That’s why he died. And why Lucien took you in. Not out of guilt. Out of protection. He’s been trying to shield you from a truth that could destroy you.”

Ariella’s knees gave out, and she collapsed into Elise’s arms.

It was too much.

Too many pieces. Too many betrayals.

And suddenly, everything—her forced marriage, the secrecy, the locked rooms, the way Lucien looked at her like she was both precious and doomed—made a cruel kind of sense.

Darius laughed bitterly. “You thought this was just about love? About revenge? No, Ariella. This is a war. And you’ve just chosen a side.”