Semua Bab Masked By Millions : Bab 41 - Bab 50

Zara Milli Lane stood in the center of her penthouse, holding the photograph like it might burn her fingers.Her father’s face—swollen. Bleeding. Alive.The black silk dress pooled at her feet like spilled ink, mocking her. Threatening her.A choice, wrapped in fabric.A death sentence disguised as couture.Alec didn’t speak.He stood behind her, frozen, fists trembling.“You said you’d protect him,” Zara whispered. Her voice was ice. “You said he’d be safe.”Alec turned her gently, his voice rough. “I did. And I will. But we have to play this right.”“He’s bleeding, Alec.”“We don’t even know where he is yet.”She pulled back. “I’m not wearing that dress.”“Yes,” he said, jaw tight. “You are.”Zara blinked, stunned.“The gala is bait. If we don’t go, they might kill him anyway. If you wear the dress, we keep the illusion alive. We control the narrative. You walk in like a queen, and I’ll have every inch of that venue covered.”She shook her head.“You want me to model for the man who

Zara Milli Lane didn’t believe in superstition, but if she did, today would have been cursed from the start.She had barely made it past the lobby of the Blackwell Tower when she was greeted by the piercing sound of clacking heels. Not just any heels—Louboutin stilettos, the kind that screamed blood-red danger. The same pair Marissa Hart used to wear like they were made for stepping on throats.Alec’s ex.The woman standing in front of her now was less fashion influencer and more power-wielding, scent-layered cobra in couture. Her eyes were lined sharp with cruelty, her smile all teeth and poison.“I always wondered what kind of woman could wear knock-offs and still think she belonged here,” Marissa said sweetly.Zara didn’t blink. “I always wondered what kind of woman couldn’t keep a man despite owning half the labels in Paris.”The air around them crackled with the kind of tension only rivals could generate—one born of scars and shared men.Before either of them could escalate it to

Zara Milli Lane wasn’t running.She was calculating.Every step she took on the wet Paris pavement was precise, silent, steel-heeled. Her robe of heartbreak trailed behind her, but her eyes—dark, unblinking—held the glint of a woman done playing nice.Alec Blackwell had lied to her.Or worse—he was playing a longer game.She’d read that message three times in the cab. It’s done. She suspects nothing. Her brain tried to rationalize it, tried to convince her it was part of some legal maneuvering, a misinterpreted message from a lawyer or an assistant. But her gut—her hustler’s gut—knew better.The moment men begin to whisper behind your back, they’ve already chosen their side.And she wasn’t going to be on the wrong end of another betrayal.She made one call.To him.“Zara?” The voice was sleepy, gravel-coated.“Rafael,” she breathed. “I need you.”“Damn. You must be desperate.”“I’m not in the mood.”“I’m listening.”“I need to find out who Alec Blackwell’s secret contacts are. Every m

Zara Milli Lane didn’t cry.She couldn’t afford to.Tears were a privilege for girls who weren’t raised on betrayal and broken promises.She didn’t stop walking until she reached the showroom—her sanctuary. The scent of fabric, fresh ink, and ambition wrapped around her like armor. The city sparkled beneath her feet through the glass windows, but her world felt darker than ever.Alec had lied.Again.And this time, it wasn’t about a disguise or a fortune. It was about her father—the one man she had trusted beyond reason. The one man who vanished because of a deal Alec kept hidden.She slammed the folder onto the drafting table.“Zara?” Rafael entered, holding a tablet. “I traced Alec’s visit to your father. Surveillance footage confirms it—he left minutes before masked men entered.”Her heart stopped. “Masked?”He nodded grimly. “Juliette’s men. Or whoever she was working with.”Zara’s hands tightened into fists.“Juliette’s in jail, but this thing goes deeper,” Rafael added. “They we

The Eiffel Tower sparkled like a diamond-studded weapon in the Paris night.Inside the Palais Garnier, chandeliers bathed the marble interior in golden light as the elite of fashion, politics, and scandalous wealth gathered for the most anticipated launch of the season: ZML Paris.Zara Milli Lane was about to set the world on fire—again.But behind the shimmer and silk, she knew this wasn’t just a launch.It was a trap.Her father was somewhere in this city. Juliette had made that clear with the photo and the chilling note:“Come dressed to kill. I will.”Alec stood beside her as they arrived, dressed in all black, looking like every sin she’d ever wanted to commit. His hand rested on the small of her back, protective but tense.Inside, Darian Vale sipped champagne near the grand staircase, already charming a countess and a scandalized bishop.Their team had eyes everywhere. Rafael on the comms. Hacker feeding real-time surveillance to Zara’s smartwatch. Everyone prepared for anything