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EIGHT: Will You Always Wear The Mask?
Last Updated:
2025-11-12 04:09:15
Latest chapter
SIR #24: Someone They Call Shadow
I sit on the edge of Lucy's bed long after she falls back asleep, her small hand still curled around mine. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the nightlight shaped like a crescent moon. I stare at it, thinking about how everything I thought I could control is slipping through my fingers. My husband pulled a gun on me and my ex husband yesterday. My daughter was threatened at her school during recess. The freaking mafia are after me for a ledger I have no idea about. My life, the one I rebuilt brick by careful brick, feels like it's made of sand. I kiss her forehead, careful not to wake her again, and slip out of the room. The hallway is quiet. Vincent is in the guest room tonight, and that's perfect honestly. I really don't want to see his face right now, don't want to hear another apology that won't fix anything. I go to my study instead, lock the door behind me, and sit at the desk. My phone is in my hand before I even think about it. I dia
SIR #23: Lucy Is Short For Lucia
We’re officially at 20k views, guyssss 😭 I know this might not seem like a huge milestone to some of you who are used to reading books with 100k, 500k, or even millions of views, but for me?? For the fact that this is my very first book ever??? Speechless. I was surprised when this book even got to 1k tbh. Thank you to every single person who has read, commented, voted, or supported this story in any way. You have no idea how many times I go back to reread your comments whenever I need a smile or a little motivation. I appreciate you all more than I can put into words. Truly. And a very special shoutout to Coco 🥹 Baby girl, I LIVE for your chapter comments. Real-time reactions are my absolute favourite, and you never hold back. I love it so much. Alright, enough yapping for now, but GUYSSSS… SIR is at 20k views and my little author heart is so full 🤍 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ David The townhouse door closes behind him with a soft click that feels louder than it should. David stands in the
SIR #22
Vincent's hand doesn't waver. The gun stays level, pointed straight at David's chest, and the hallway light catches the metal in a way that makes it look colder than it already is. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I feel it in my throat. “Vincent,” I say, my voice instinctively calm. “What the hell are you doing?” He doesn't even blink. His eyes stay locked on David. "You think you can just walk back into her life? Show up at our building, touch my wife, and I'm supposed to stand here like it's nothing?" David doesn’t move. Not a step back. Not a flinch. His head tilts slightly, eyes locked on Vincent’s hand, his posture loose like he’s watching weather roll in rather than a loaded weapon. But he doesn't respond. “Put the gun down, Vincent.” I say, louder this time. Vincent’s jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. His finger rests dangerously close to the trigger. “You want to know what I’m doing?” he says. “I’m fixing this.” “By pulling a gun on my ex-hu
SIR #21: I Hate That You're Here
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white as I speed through the city streets, David in the passenger seat beside me. "Turn left at the next light," he says quietly, glancing at his phone's GPS. "It'll shave off a few minutes." I nod without speaking and make the turn, the hospital coming into view ahead. My mind races with possibilities, each one worse than the last. I brushed Lucy's fever the other night off as a bug, but the fact that the doctor wanted to speak about it in person... it changes everything. I park in the first spot I see, not caring if it's legal, and we're out of the car before the engine fully stops. David keeps pace with me as we hurry through the sliding doors into the bright, sterile lobby. The smell of antiseptic hits me immediately, bringing back memories I try to push down. Memories of another hospital visit, another child, another loss that still haunts me every day. “Slow down,” he says quietly when I take the corner too fast. “We’re no
SIR #20: Someone Else Does Too
Vincent is still asleep beside me when I slip out of bed at six the next morning. Lucy is curled against his chest, her small hand fisted in his T-shirt, breathing slow and even. The sight of them together usually steadies me. This morning it only makes the knot in my stomach tighten. I pad into the kitchen in bare feet, close the door softly behind me, and pour coffee with shaking hands. The anonymous text sits on my phone like a live wire. I’ve read it so many times the words have lost their shape. “Daddy’s protection is gone, princess. It’s time to pay your father’s debts. Where’s the ledger?” Even dead, Malcolm still finds a way to fuck up my life. The man I spent my childhood watching from behind half-closed doors while he conducted business in smoke-filled rooms. The man who taught me how to lie convincingly before I learned how to read. The man whose empire David and I dismantled eight years ago in a single, brut
SIR #19: Perverts Stare
The apartment still smells like strangers when the last uniformed officer finally leaves. Dust from overturned cushions hangs in the air, mixing with the faint chemical scent of fingerprint powder. Vincent stands in the doorway of the master bedroom, arms crossed, watching the two detectives pack up their kits.“This place has been turned upside down,” the officer says mildly, flipping open a notepad. “But you’re saying nothing is missing?”“Yes,” I say for the third time. “Nothing.”“Nothing missing,” the older one says again, like repetition will make it true. “Drawers rifled through, closets searched, but no valuables taken. Even the jewellery box was intact. No forced entry beyond the front door. Alarm was disabled cleanly, which means someone knew the code or had a bypass. We’ll run the serials on the disabled panel, but these days that’s usually a cloned fob. Happens more often than you’d think.”Vincent nods once. “And the vandalism? The slashed cushions, the broken frames?”“C
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