Chapter 3: The Invitation

Lily Chen was the sister I chose, not the one genetics cursed me with.

"If you stare at that invitation any harder, you're going to set it on fire with your mind," Lily said, spinning her ergonomic chair around to face me. "Which, honestly? Would be an improvement."

I looked up from the cream-colored card stock resting on my desk. It was heavy, textured, and embossed with gold leaf. It looked like it belonged in a museum, not sitting next to my dual-monitor setup and a tangled mess of USB cables.

"It was hand-delivered," I muttered, running a thumb over the raised lettering. "By a courier in a tuxedo. Who does that?"

"Sienna," Lily deadpanned. "Sienna does that."

We were in the open-plan office of NeXus Gaming Studios, the beating heart of the city's tech district. The building was a masterpiece of glass and steel, a cathedral to code and creativity. Around us, developers typed furiously, concept artists sketched on tablets, and the low hum of servers provided a comforting white noise.

I loved it here. I wasn't technically an employee—I preferred the freedom of being an independent contractor, hired gun for specific high-level architecture—but NeXus felt more like home than the Stone mansion ever had.

"Hey, Aria!" Dave from Animation walked by, holding a tablet. "Saw the news about the Indie Showcase. Gold medal? That’s insane. Congrats!"

I felt a flush of genuine warmth. "Thanks, Dave. It was a team effort."

"Modest as always," he laughed, heading toward the break room.

I turned back to the invitation. It was for the Masquerade Engagement Ball celebrating the union of Sienna Stone and Marcus Cross.

Saturday, 8:00 PM. The Grandeur Hotel.

And clipped to the top, a handwritten note in Sienna's looping, bubbly script:

Please try to look presentable. Don't embarrass me. —S

"She really went all out," Lily said, plucking the card from my desk and reading it with a sneer. "The Grandeur? That’s, what, five hundred a plate? And she couldn't even text you? She had to send a courier to your place of work?"

"It's a power move," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "She wants everyone here to see the difference between us. She's the billionaire's fiancée. I'm just the contractor."

"You're the award-winning genius," Lily corrected sharply. "And Marcus isn't a billionaire. He's the CFO. The real money is the CEO, Noah West. The guy who, rumor has it, hasn't been seen in this building in six months because he's too busy buying islands or whatever billionaires do."

I glanced at the frosted glass doors of the executive suite on the top floor. Noah West. The ghost in the machine.

"You're not going," Lily stated, dropping the invitation back onto my desk like it was contaminated.

I picked it up, feeling the weight of obligation settle in my stomach like a stone. "I have to. It's family."

"Family?" Lily scoffed. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the coffee station, away from prying ears. "Aria, every time you’re around them, you come back broken. Remember the Christmas party? When your mother told everyone you were 'between jobs' when you had literally just shipped a triple-A title?"

I flinched. I remembered. I had spent the rest of the night hiding in the coat room, texting Lily while sipping warm champagne.

"It’s my twin sister’s engagement," I argued, though my heart wasn't in it. "If I don't go, I'm the bitter, jealous sister. That's the narrative Sienna is spinning. If I stay home, I prove her right."

Lily leaned against the counter, her expression softening. "She's a bully, Aria. Genetics doesn't give her a pass."

"I know," I admitted, staring into the dark swirl of my espresso. "But... I just want them to see me. Just once. I want to walk into that room and have my parents look at me without disappointment. I want Sienna to realize I'm not her accessory."

Lily sighed, recognizing the stubborn set of my jaw. She knew me better than anyone. She knew that beneath the hoodies and the code, there was a desperate, aching need for validation that I couldn't quite kill.

"Fine," Lily said, slamming her hand down on the counter. "If you go, you go on your terms."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are not wearing whatever frumpy bridesmaid reject dress Sienna sent over. You are not going to stand in the corner. And you are not going to let her dictate your night."

She pointed a manicured finger at me. "You are Aria Stone. You build worlds for a living. It's time you started living in this one."

I felt a spark of something unfamiliar. Defiance?

"Okay," I agreed, a small smile tugging at my lips. "On my terms."

Two hours later, we were in a boutique that definitely wasn't on Sienna's approved vendor list. It was tucked away in the fashion district, the kind of place that smelled like expensive perfume and rebellion.

"No," Lily said, pulling a beige chiffon dress from my hands. "Absolutely not. That screams 'I apologize for existing.' Put it back."

"It's safe," I protested. "It blends in."

"You're not blending in. You're standing out." Lily rifled through a rack of evening gowns, fabrics swooshing softly. "You're hiding, Aria. Stop hiding."

She pulled out a hanger and gasped. "This. This is the one."

It was midnight blue. Not the bright, cheery royal blue Sienna favored, but a deep, rich indigo that looked like the night sky just before a storm. It was velvet, sleek and heavy, with a slit that went dangerously high up the thigh and a neckline that plunged in a V.

"Lily, that's... a lot," I said, eyeing the fabric. "It's backless."

"Try. It. On."

Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the dressing room.

The mirror in the boutique was floor-to-ceiling, framed in gold. I stared at the reflection, barely recognizing the woman looking back.

The dress fit like a second skin. It hugged curves I usually concealed under oversized tech conference t-shirts. The dark blue made my pale skin glow, and my eyes—usually hidden behind blue-light glasses—looked striking.

I didn't look like the "tech girl." I looked powerful. I looked dangerous.

"Oh my god," Lily whispered, her hands over her mouth. "Aria. You look... expensive. You look like the main character."

I turned, watching the fabric ripple like water. For the first time in years, I didn't feel like a copy. I felt like an original.

"It's perfect," I whispered. "I'll take it."

"And the mask," Lily said, holding up a delicate piece of work. It was silver filigree, intricate and sharp, covering the upper half of the face but leaving the mouth exposed. It was mysterious. It was armor.

"You're not going as Sienna's shadow," Lily said fiercely, placing the mask in my hands. "You're going as Aria Stone, award-winning game designer. Make them look, Ari."

I gripped the cold metal of the mask. "Maybe I can do this."

The Night Before the Masquerade

My apartment was dark, illuminated only by the glow of my monitors. It was 11:30 PM, and I was stress-coding. Whenever my anxiety spiked, I reverted to C++. Logic was safe. Logic had rules. People did not.

My phone buzzed on the desk.

I glanced at it, expecting a text from Lily checking if I’d backed out yet.

Unknown Number:

Looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. Marcus says great things about your work. —Noah West

I froze. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, the cursor blinking patiently.

Noah West?

The Noah West?

I picked up the phone, staring at the message. Why would the CEO of NeXus Gaming be texting me?

Sienna, I realized with a sinking feeling. Or Marcus.

They must have given him my number. Sienna had said she wanted me to meet him because we were both "into computers." It was networking. Just networking.

But the text felt... personal. Direct.

I opened a new browser tab and typed "Noah West" into the search bar.

Hundreds of results popped up. Articles about NeXus's stock prices, the launch of the Titan engine, his billionaire status. But there were very few photos. He notoriously avoided the press.

Most images were of him walking away from cameras, or grainy shots from tech conferences.

But I found one. It was a candid shot from a shareholder meeting a year ago.

He was looking straight at the camera, likely spotting the photographer. His eyes were dark, intense, and intelligent. He had a strong jawline, shadowed by a day's worth of stubble, and his black hair was swept back carelessly. He didn't look like a suit. He looked like a predator trapped in a boardroom.

My stomach did a traitorous flip.

Don't be ridiculous, I chided myself. He's your sister's fiancé's business partner. He's a billionaire. You're the girl who writes code in her pajamas.

I looked back at the text.

Me:

Thank you, Mr. West. I look forward to it as well.

I hit send before I could overthink it.

"It's just nerves," I whispered to the empty room. "Just a party. Just one night."

I turned off my monitors, plunging the room into darkness.

I told myself I was ready. I told myself I was going there to prove a point to my family.

But fate had other plans. I didn't know that the man with the intense eyes was already woven into my story. I didn't know that by midnight tomorrow, the lines between business and pleasure, between sister and stranger, would be blurred beyond recognition.

The mask was ready on my dresser, shimmering in the moonlight.

Tomorrow, everything would change.