Mask Of Deception Novels & Stories

The muscle in his jaw twitched. "I know you'd come here one day looking for answers," the man continued. "It's your birthday today." A smile eased out of his lips. "I came to wish you this morning, but you were sleeping peacefully. As much as my heart is at ease, it also holds the fear that someday the hardships awaiting you will wipe off that peace." Aluxious's face was an impassive mask as he stared at his father's memory. "Your path is filled with deception and greed. The people here would do anything to be in your position. Their greed for power outweighs their morale."

But inside, I felt a knot in my chest. I hated lying to him. But I had no choice. If I told him the truth—that I was going to that auction, that I was the real artist behind the painting they were all fighting for—he would ask questions. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet. So I lied. And I hated how easy it had become. After he left, I stood in front of my full-length mirror, adjusting the mask I had picked out. It was delicate, white with silver lace and tiny crystals that sparkled under the light. It only covered the upper half of my face, but it would be enough.

Lex perused the masquerade, feeling somewhat elated by the fact that he was indistinguishable. He adjusted his white and gold mask that covered his entire forehead but extended only to half of his face. The overall colour was white with an acrylic effect. The gold highlighted the eyelids and accentuated the mask.

Alexander had told himself a dozen lies in the space of a second. I can keep this professional. I can protect him better than anyone else. He won’t recognize me. And the most dangerous lie of all: I can stop whenever I want. Alexander laughed again, harsh and humorless. He moved through the penthouse like a storm, knocking over chairs, ripping framed art from the walls. One painting cracked down the center when it hit the floor, the canvas splitting like a wound. Then he reached the hallway. The masks were displayed there dozens of them, mounted carefully in glass cases. Venetian. Minimalist. Ornate. Abstract. Each one representing a role, a boundary, a version of himself he could inhabit wi

Cedric coldly snorted, "What you see can be deceiving too." Even if you see someone with your own eyes and touch them, it does not necessarily mean that is the truth. Someone can wear a mask for so long that the mask becomes a part of them, and they can no longer take it off. He has always presented himself with that mask, and everyone sees only the mask. However, what lies behind that mask, no one knows.

"Why did you deceive me?You were testing me,weren’t you?" She questioned with her eyes turning red. Dante saw her tears, and the hardest part of his heart turned soft fiercely. He wiped her tears with his warm fingertips and said with love, "I didn’t mean to deceive you.I’ve had that hideous mask on way before I met you.People often found this scar on my face terrible and I guess that got to me.And I just wanted to push everyone away by making myself looking even more horrible.I…I should’ve been honest with you"

Raw and unmanaged and completely honest in the way that faces were honest when they believed no one was looking. I picked up a fresh glass from a passing server. And walked toward him. "Derek." He turned. The expression folding away — smoothly, professionally, the mask of a businessman reasserting itself with practiced speed. But I had already seen underneath it. Already catalogued exactly what lived there. "Isabella." His eyes moving briefly to my bandaged leg. "You look well. Considering." "I feel well." I smiled. "Considering." We stood together for a moment. Two people watching the same room from the same angle. The music. The clients. The gold dress moving through the crowd.

He alerted his team and assured me that everything was fine there. I walked towards the door but stopped immediately when something caught my eyes. Some black fabric was hanging behind the frame. Jacob's a minimalist when it comes to his home decorations. I turned and walked to the frame hanging on the wall. I carefully removed it. "Bloody hell." I murmured as I saw Mamba's mask. I gulped. Jacob saw it. He has the mask all along and he never mentioned or asked anything about it. I removed the mask on the hook and hid it in my jacket's secret pocket.

Someone who could reach the man, not just the warrior. Her mind raced. She could disguise herself as an Omega, a low-ranking wolf without ambition or threat. Someone unassuming enough that Troy might lower his guard. It was deception, yes, but she told herself it was necessary. He was too broken to trust the truth. The guilt clawed at her chest as she lifted the mask. Its weight was familiar, like a second skin. She set it back down with finality. For now, she wouldn’t be the Masked Alpha. She would be Daisy—quiet, unthreatening, and patient.

Elma The masquerade was the perfect excuse. A celebration. A harmless post-summit affair. One I had no reason to decline. Not if I wanted to keep suspicions off my back. I’d been at the summit. A guest of honor, they called me. Skipping a formal pack event now? That would’ve raised more questions than my presence already had. So I came. Dressed like the version of myself they expected. Elegant. Quiet. Soft. A diplomat’s niece, with good posture and a forgettable smile. My mask was silver lace and satin…light enough to breathe, pretty enough to distract.