Chapter 50: The Unmasked

---

 

The Grand Ballroom. The Vance Charity Gala.

The room was a sea of masks. Feathers, sequins, velvet, and diamonds hiding the faces of the city’s elite. The air smelled of expensive champagne and fake laughter. In the center, under a chandelier the size of a small car, holding court like a queen, was Victoria Vance. She wore a mask of black lace and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Where is she?" a banker whispered to his wife. "The noodle girl?" "Probably hiding in the bathroom," the wife giggled behind her fan. "I heard she doesn't even own a gown."

BOOM.

The heavy double doors of the ballroom didn't just open. They were thrown wide. The music stopped. The chatter died. Every head turned.

There were no masks. No feathers. No hiding.

Sebastian Sterling and Harper Vance entered.

Harper was a vision in liquid gold. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, the slit revealing a leg that went on for days. Her chin was held high, her eyes sweeping the room with cold amusement. Beside her, Sebastian sat in his midnight-blue velvet tuxedo. He didn't look like a man confined to a chair. He looked like a king on a throne. His beard was sharp, his gaze lethal.

They were the only two bare faces in a room full of liars.

"Jesus," someone whispered. "Is that Sterling? He looks... dangerous."

Sebastian ignored them. He glanced at Harper. "Shall we?"

"Let's burn it down," Harper smiled.

They moved into the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. No one dared to block their path. Sebastian maneuvered his wheelchair with effortless precision, matching Harper’s stride perfectly. They looked like a single unit. A power couple forged in fire.

---

[The Trap]

Victoria Vance watched them approach from the VIP platform. Her grip on her champagne flute tightened until her knuckles turned white. "Audacious," she hissed. "Coming here without masks."

She signaled the band leader. "Play the Waltz. Now."

The conductor tapped his baton. The orchestra began a slow, sweeping waltz.

Victoria stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Vance Gala. Tonight is about family. And I am delighted to welcome my... stepdaughter, Harper."

Spotlights swung across the room, blinding Harper and Sebastian.

"Harper, darling," Victoria’s voice dripped with poison. "It is tradition for the Heiress to lead the first dance. But since your partner is... indisposed..." She gestured to a young, handsome man standing nearby—a French count she had hired. "...Count Louis has graciously offered to step in. Surely Sebastian won't mind watching from the sidelines? It's for the best."

The crowd murmured. It was a public execution. Victoria was forcing Harper to choose: Dance with another man and humiliate Sebastian, or refuse and look like a spoiled brat.

Harper’s face hardened. She opened her mouth to tell Victoria to go to hell.

But Sebastian moved first.

---

[The Waltz]

"No need for the Count," Sebastian’s voice was deep, projected clearly across the silent ballroom. "I can handle my own fiancée."

Victoria laughed. "Oh, Sebastian. Don't be heroic. It's a waltz. You can't waltz on wheels."

"Watch me."

Sebastian spun his chair around to face Harper. He extended his hand. "May I have this dance, Ms. Vance?"

Harper looked at his hand. Then at his eyes. They were burning with defiance. She smiled, a genuine, dazzling smile that outshone every diamond in the room. "You may, Mr. Sterling."

She took his hand. And then, the magic happened.

Sebastian didn't just roll. He danced. He gripped Harper’s hand firmly, using his incredible upper body strength to guide her. He spun the wheelchair in perfect time with the music. One-two-three. One-two-three. Harper moved with him, her gold dress swirling around his dark suit.

When the music swelled, Sebastian locked his brakes for a split second, using the momentum to pull Harper into a dip. She arched back, trusting him completely, her face inches from his. Then, with a powerful pull, he spun her out, and spun his chair in a tight, elegant circle to catch her again.

It wasn't clumsy. It was mesmerizing. It was a dance of trust. Of power. Of absolute synchronicity.

The crowd watched in stunned silence. They forgot about the wheelchair. All they saw was the chemistry. The raw, undeniable connection between two people who had been through hell and came back stronger.

As the music reached its crescendo, Sebastian pulled Harper close. She sat gently on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he spun the chair one last time. The world blurred. It was just them.

The music ended. Harper was breathless, her forehead resting against his. "You practiced," she whispered.

"I watched YouTube videos all night," Sebastian smirked, breathing hard. "Worth it."

For a second, there was total silence. Then, Richard Vance started clapping. Then the Count. Then the entire room erupted in thunderous applause.

Victoria stood on the stage, her face pale, her mouth open. She had meant to humiliate him. Instead, she had just crowned him.

Harper stood up from his lap, smoothing her dress. She looked up at Victoria on the stage. She didn't need a microphone. Her voice carried clearly.

"Nice try, Victoria," Harper called out. "But you can't break us. We're already broken. And that's why we fit together."

She took the handle of Sebastian’s chair. "Come on, Mr. Sterling. Let's get a drink. All this winning made me thirsty."