All Chapters of THE CHARADE: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

AVA'S POV The warehouse exuded the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol— typically familiar. A stag wavering bulb above the entrance of the gates unchained! It was like an almost perfect invite,’’proud asses, typical Volkov arrogance’’. They’ve always thought their reputation kept them untouchable. Well, I was here to correct that assumption.I lowered my body behind some tall grasses just at the entrance of the gates, my eyes sharpened carefully analyzing the building On the left hand side of the building thee was a fire escape—rusty but stable. The second floor had a casement window left slightly open, there was a faint curl of smoke rising from a cigarette resting in an ashtray still left burning on the ledge. ‘’Sloppy’’ Some guard must have gotten distracted mid-smoke break. Their carelessness was my invitation.’’JACKPOT!’’ The climb was a breeze. Too easy. When my gloved fingers found the window ledge, it creaked open another inch without resistance.Not even locked.These

AVA'S POVThe blonde wig was a cheap, synthetic curse, each strand itching like a thousand ants parading across my scalp. It was misery, I had to suppress, hiding the unruly red hair I had beneath. I resisted the urge to scratch, focusing instead on the oppressive, magnolia-scented air that clung to the back of my throat like a noose. His house. Our dream house. The one we’d scratched on napkins at stanley diner when we were much younger, laughing over a bottle of stolen whiskey I'd stolen from my mother’s liquor cabinet. We’d argued over the details of what the house would look like-I’d wanted a tall ladder in the library, he’d insisted on a wine cellar he’d never use. Now, standing here, the blueprint of my stupid imagination had sprung to life with terrifying, thorough accuracy. Broad expanses of dark polished marble floor reflected the cold, modern lights. The furniture was all sharp angles and faint grey, stripped with violent, blood-red pillows and a single, massive abstract p

AVA'S POVThe door hadn’t even clicked shut behind me before Dante was moving. He emerged from his office, fast, his steps fast and structured not even glancing my way as he strode down the hall. “With me, Morales.” The command was tossed over his shoulder, expecting immediate compliance. My heart, still rattling from the spark in his office. Sophia Morales wouldn’t hesitate. I fell into quick steps behind him, my heels echoing, too loud, too feminine. “Sir? What are we–?” “You said you could handle my business,” he cut me off, his voice flat. “So we are going to handle it”He led me down a flight of stairs into a part of the mansion that felt utterly different. The marble and art felt too cold, the air smelled of bleach and something else, something metallic, my stomach tightened. Kyle stood outside a heavy steel door, his usual clown demeanor completely absent. His face was flat, he gave Dante a slight nod as another guard spoke. “He’s not talking, boss.”“He will,” Dante said,