All Chapters of Masked By Millions : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

“You learn a lot about people when they think you’re broke.”Alec Blackwell adjusted his sleeves, the frayed cuffs of his thrift store button-down scratching lightly at his wrists. He leaned back in the creaky wooden chair of the downtown café and took a long sip of lukewarm coffee, the bitter taste grounding him in the character he’d created. No tailored suits, no Rolex, no black Escalade idling outside. Just Alec—supposedly broke, charming, and totally average.He scanned the café with disinterest practiced to perfection. The air smelled of burnt espresso and cinnamon rolls that had been overbaked hours ago. His latest setup—Zara Lane—was ten minutes late. She hadn’t messaged, hadn’t called, and hadn’t canceled. That alone intrigued him.Most women he matched with on the app weren’t late. They were early, dolled up, nervous. Eager to impress what they thought was a struggling writer-slash-freelancer trying to make it in the city. Zara had only messaged him twice—both times curt, dir

AlecAlec Whitmore hadn’t laughed like that in months.Not since his last acquisition—a chain of tech startups he’d bought, gutted, and rebuilt under one of his ghost companies. Not since the board threatened to question his mental state after he missed two quarterly meetings and took off to Costa Rica instead. And certainly not since Delilah.But when that glass of ice water hit his face with precision worthy of a sniper, something in him had cracked.Then something else: a spark. Sharp. Delicious.Not humiliation—he’d grown up with far worse. Not rage—God no, that was for amateurs.It was thrill.He stripped out of the soaked white shirt in the back seat of his Rolls-Royce, running a hand through his drenched hair as his driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror.“Should I get the backup shirt, sir?” Marvin asked, ever the stoic.Alec chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “Leave it. I like the attention.”Marvin said nothing. He was used to the eccentricities by now.The

ZaraZara didn’t cry. Not when her landlord threatened to raise the rent again. Not when the market rejected her latest designs. And definitely not over a man who had more aliases than Instagram filters.But the fire in her throat said otherwise.She hadn’t looked back after storming out of Carmella’s. Her feet carried her through the city like they had a grudge, her blood boiling with betrayal and shame. Not just because of Alec—but because she’d let herself feel something. Hope. Curiosity. Maybe even a flicker of wanting more.She’d known better.Trust was a currency she couldn’t afford. And Alec just proved why.He’d lied without technically lying. Hidden the truth behind charm and clever smiles. She should’ve known that no one who looked like that, moved like that, and had cheekbones sharp enough to cut diamonds was ever simple.And Marissa?That woman hadn’t just walked in with perfume and poison—she’d cracked open a secret Zara wasn’t ready to confront.The next morning, Zara di

ZaraThe walls felt thinner now.Every shadow in Alec’s office seemed to shift. Every sound—an echo of footsteps, the whisper of HVAC—set her nerves on fire. Even when the security team stormed the building and changed all her access codes, it didn’t calm her.She wasn’t scared for herself.She was scared for Miles.He was just a kid with math homework and scuffed sneakers. She’d worked her entire life to keep him away from darkness—and now, because of her, he was in someone’s crosshairs.Zara paced the length of the room until Alec came in with his sleeves rolled, tie loosened, and eyes simmering with the kind of rage that didn’t shout—it vowed.“I have names,” he said. “And locations.”Her eyes widened. “Already?”“My people don’t wait for warrants.”She swallowed hard. “What are you going to do?”Alec walked over to the bar cart, poured whiskey into a crystal tumbler, and held it out to her.“You’re shaking.”She ignored the glass. “I asked you a question.”He stared at her for a l

ZaraIt started with the mirror.Zara stood in Alec’s penthouse bathroom, brushing her teeth, when she noticed the words smeared into the condensation:YOU DON’T BELONG HEREHer pulse spiked. She dropped the toothbrush, swung the door open—but the hallway was empty.Nothing. No sound. No proof.Just that ugly, silent threat.By the time Alec returned, she was pacing barefoot across marble floors, robe clinging to damp skin and fury thrumming in her veins.“They were inside,” she said before he could speak.“What?”“Someone was in here, Alec. In this apartment. While I was in the shower.”He didn’t hesitate. Called Roman. Locked the place down. And when Zara handed him her phone, his jaw turned to granite.Another message had come in, timestamped just before the mirror fogged:You can’t protect what you don’t deserve.⸻The security sweep took hours.Roman found a micro-camera buried inside the vent, a listening device under the couch, and traces of tampered access codes in the buildin