Cinderella Masquerade Novels & Stories

‘I wouldn’t have realized her identity if it hadn’t been for Kennedy. Maisie removed the mask that she had prepared for the masquerade and walked toward Madam Nera with a smile. “Madam Nera, you wouldn’t believe me either, even if I were to explain it the other day.” Madam Nera paused and curled her lips. “You’re right. If you couldn’t show me some real tricks, I really wouldn’t believe that you’re Zora.” The corners of Nolan’s lips were raised slightly. “It seems that Madam Nera likes the Peacock’s Pride designed by my fiancée.”

Violet complimented the two She turned her attention to the cabinet and she is picking up something inside “Have a seat first, my dear couple,” even she doesn’t glance to them—Ms. Violet knows that they will not do it When she grabbed the one that she is looking for—her eyes go in their direction “The party is masquerade . . . because that bastard has the guts not to show his face first,” from the words of Madam Violet, Keesha’s confidence goes in The masquerade mask that she gives to her is such a luxurious one.

The ballroom glittered with a thousand golden lights, each crystal chandelier reflecting the wealth and power of the people beneath them. Cassandra Blake smoothed the silver satin of her gown, the fabric soft against her palm, a reminder to keep her mask in place. In this room, a smile was currency, and hers had been perfected through years of necessity.

“Tell him to enjoy the view… while he still can.” The hall outside buzzed with movement—servants rushing about, guards standing at attention, and the muffled notes of string music drifting in from the east wing. My pulse thrummed beneath my skin like war drums. Tonight was a masquerade in more ways than one. Everyone hid their intentions behind smiles and painted masks. But me? I was done pretending. The wolves in silk and satin would dance, drink, and make merry, and then the blood would spill. And when the moonlight hit the ballroom floor just right, and the crowd was thick with laughter, Alpha Kieran would feel the cold kiss of steel before the night was over.

Bianca's POV I walked into the grand hall slowly, the sharp click of my heels echoing against marble floors that glittered like spilled champagne. For a moment, my heart stalled in my chest. This didn’t look like the lair of a Mafia city. No...this looked like a fairy tale kingdom, a masquerade straight out of Cinderella’s storybook. Golden chandeliers dripped crystals overhead, casting rainbows across velvet drapes. The crowd sparkled with silk gowns and masks feathered in emeralds and rubies.

Beside it lay a mask—a plain, featureless white porcelain half-mask that covered the eyes and nose, devoid of glitter, feathers, or expression. "It looks like a shroud," Aria whispered, picking up the heavy velvet. "It’s a Domino," Cassandra corrected, applying a layer of gold shimmer to her collarbones. "Very Venetian. Very mysterious. And most importantly, it blends in with the drapes." She turned from the mirror, her eyes critical and cold. "Tonight is my twenty-ninth birthday, Aria. It is a Masquerade. The theme is 'Gilded Age Decadence.' I am the Queen. Damian is the King. And you..." She gestured vaguely at the gray heap. "You are the shadow."

"Isn't all this like Cinderella? You are Cinderella, disappearing at midnight and I'm your Prince." Midnight shook his head biting down a chuckle. "Cinderella my ass."

The severity of his tone shocked her into silence. She took a step. “Baby, I didn’t scam you.” “So, were you the girl I danced with at the masquerade ball?” he asked. Cindy stammered. The words bubbled somewhere in her throat but wouldn’t come out. I had stopped shaking from my orgasm, stood up and adjusted my outfit. The self-satisfaction I felt was evident on my face. Walking over to Roman, I threw my hands around his neck in a fake possessive manner. Oh, the look on Cindy’s face. The horrific expression on her face almost made it so worth it. The bags under her eyes twitched with stress lines, her jaws ticked, her eyes reddened murderously.

If he can cheat, why can't I cheat? I slip my mask on and step into the bar. It's Halloween, but with a twist. It's a masquerade night. Everyone is masked, a sea of hidden faces swirling around me. They'd gone all out—a kaleidoscope of funny, try-too-hard-to-look-scary costumes. Fake blood, monstrous parodies, and towering wigs threatened to topple with every dance step. I'd chosen something simple, just the black mask. It felt like the perfect disguise, letting me blend into the shadows while still participating in the night's strange ritual.