Chapter 1: The Gala of Masks

Three Months Later

Three months wasn’t enough time to recover

I knew that the moment I stepped into the grand entrance hall of the Harrington Grand. Sophie had called this charity gala "therapy." A masquerade, Elle. Dancing, champagne, beautiful people.

What she really meant was: stop drowning in

your old life and prove you’re fine.

But for the record, I wasn’t fine.

I smoothed down the front of the borrowed navy gown and reminded myself how to breathe.

Sophie had been my best friend since we were sixteen. She is an ultimate nepo baby and so effortlessly rich she didn’t even think about price tags. We met on my very first day at high school. I was the awkward scholarship girl and Sophie adopted me on the spot.

Harrington Academy was where I first learned what it felt like to exist on the jagged edges of a world that wasn't built for me. It was also where I first met Damien.

He was the golden captain of the lacrosse team. Back then, I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.

I didn’t figure out his real motive until three months ago.

“Will you stop fidgeting?” Sophie hissed, appearing at my elbow and snapping me out of my dark thoughts.

“Will you stop fidgeting?” Sophie hissed as she tugged me through the entrance hall.

“I’m not fidgeting,” I snapped, pulling at the sleek black mask digging into my temples.

“Yes, you are. You’re acting like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Because I would rather be anywhere else.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and handed me a glass of champagne. “Besides, the dress drapes beautifully on you. You look stunning tonight. Damien is a trash human, and he is not the center of the universe.”

She vanished into the crowd before I could remind her that she was the only reason I’d agreed to come. If she hadn't let me sleep on her couch for six weeks after Damien cleared out my bank account and had me evicted, I would have been on the streets. I owed her everything, but being here felt like walking into a trap.

I didn’t feel amazing. The silky navy gown was borrowed from Sophie, the heels pinched, and the mask—I swear it was slowly fusing with my skull.

I drifted toward the edges of the room, avoiding swirling dancers. My fingers gripped the champagne flute like it was the only thing holding me to Earth. Sophie was wrong. Damian was my universe, or at least he had been. And now I was floating aimlessly, unsure of who I was without him.

But then, the first warning sign flashed across the room. A strike of bold, scarlet satin.

My stomach dropped clean through the floor. I caught the arrogant, sharp angle of a jawline I knew better than my own.

He wasn’t wearing a mask—of course not. His arrogant confidence didn’t need a disguise. And his hand, so casually draped around the waist of Vanessa in a backless scarlet gown, might as well have been a blade sliding between my ribs.

My chest tightened so hard it pained me. Panic roared in my ears. I needed to escape before he saw me. I took a blind, frantic step backward—and slammed directly into a solid chest.

Champagne sloshed violently over my hand. My high heel caught the long hem of my gown, and I began to tilt backward.

Before I could hit the polished floor, a strong forearm wrapped securely around my waist. The fabric under my fingers belonged to a flawlessly tailored, ridiculously expensive tuxedo sleeve. He caught me effortlessly, holding me against his chest until I regained my footing.

“Really?” I snapped, my voice sharp with sudden, defense-driven panic. “You couldn’t stand somewhere else?

One of his eyebrows arched, his expression amused. “I’ll try harder next time.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his voice. It was low and smooth, with a hint of something. Annoyance? Amusement? Either way, I wasn’t about to apologize.

I looked up.

The man holding me wore a dark, fitted masquerade mask that covered the upper half of his face, but it didn’t hide his features. He had a dominant, razor-sharp jawline, a mouth that curved into a devastating half-smile, and a powerful, magnetic stillness. He wasn’t a boy. He was a mature man, exuding the kind of authority that only came from immense wealth and power.

His dark eyes locked onto mine through the cutouts of his mask, making me completely forget what I was about to say.

I forced myself to snap out of it. “Maybe watch where you’re going,” I muttered, pulling out of his grip.

“Maybe,” he agreed, entirely unbothered. His piercing eyes dropped briefly to my champagne-damp fingers. “Let me get you another drink to make up for the spill.”

“No thanks.” I glanced around for Sophie, but she was busy charming a crowd. Great.

My eyes cut back across the room to Damien without my permission.

My first instinct was to decline, but Damian was scanning the crowd now. If he saw me sulking in the corner, it would only prove what I already feared—that I was pathetic without him.

“Or perhaps a dance,” the stranger said, his voice pulling me back.

I looked back at the powerful stranger in front of me.

“Fine,” I said, slipping my hand into the stranger’s.

The stranger’s hand was warm and commanding as it closed around mine. He led me onto the dance floor without a trace of hesitation, his palm settling firmly at my waist.

“You didn’t want to come tonight,” he noted quietly. It wasn’t a guess; he stated it as a fact.

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “But here I am.”

“And now I’m curious why.”

I didn’t answer. He spun me effortlessly, keeping his body positioned like a shield between me and the rest of the crowd. It was strange. Dancing with him felt remarkably comfortable.

“You’re watching someone,” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against my ear.

“I’m not.”

“You were.” A brief beat. “An ex?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. An ex? Damien had claimed he never even considered me a girlfriend. “Something like that.”

The stranger didn’t push. He just held me closer, guiding me through the music,.

Then, the music abruptly stopped.

A spotlight clicked on, illuminating the center of the floor. I turned just in time to see Damian step into the light, holding the hand of the Vanessa.

The crowd hushed, a ripple of anticipation washing over the room. My heart started pounding, and my chest tightened with dread.

No. He wouldn’t.

He did.

“Everyone, if I could have your attention. Before the evening continues, I have a very special announcement to make.”

Vanessa turned to him, her eyes widening with perfectly timed, fake tears.

Damien dropped down onto one knee.

He pulled out a velvet box, opening it to reveal a diamond ring so massive it practically blinded the front row.

I barely registered the words. Something about love. Forever. She gasped, said yes, and the room erupted in applause. Damian stood, pulling her close, and kissed her in front of everyone—in front of me.

The air left my lungs. The clapping and cheering felt like static, muffled and distant.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, his voice close to my ear. His hand tightened on my waist, keeping me steady as my legs began to tremble violently.

I couldn’t answer him. My throat had completely closed up. Hot, toxic pain and a dark, raging fury burned beneath my skin. I refused—refused—to openly cry over the same monster twice.

“I need to go,” I choked out.

I didn’t wait for his response. I ripped my hand away from his grip and broke through the clapping crowd. I moved as fast as my heels and the borrowed dress would allow, keeping my head down, my mask firmly on, and ran for the exit.