The Billionaire's Masquerade Mga Nobela at Kwento

A phantom billionaire who was running from his own empire, just like I was running from mine. "Well, Mr. Cross," I said, walking back into the study and dropping into the massive leather chair. I opened my laptop, pulling the document back onto the center screen. "Looks like I'm not the only one wearing a mask." I highlighted the title I had typed just an hour ago: THE MECHANIC'S WIFE. I hit delete. I typed a new one, the keys clacking like a drumbeat. THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET.

For the first time, Nathan took Tessa out somewhere that wasn’t the hospital. The masquerade ball was a charity event, or more precisely, an elite fundraiser. Tessa hadn’t wanted to come. Crowds weren’t her thing. But since everyone would be wearing masks, she decided to go. At least tonight she could see the world outside Nathan’s mansion. They stepped into the grand hall where laughter and chatter filled the air.

That doesn't mean I'm insecure of my looks either. Right now, she's dressed in a long, tasteful, red silk gown that draws all eyes to her. With her carefully curated smile, and champagne flute held delicately in one hand, she looks elegant, graceful, and every inch the millionaire artist she is. While I look like a neglected shadow next to her. What a bitch. "So," She turns to me, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I swear flower petals and sparkles fall out. "Where is your husband?" I roll my eyes and chug down some of my champagne. "At home."

Vance? Max smirked arrogantly, pulling me in for a deep kiss. 'I am a billionaire, sweetheart. Winning is what I do.' The grand ballroom of the Geneva Financial Center was flooded with flashing camera lights, crystal chandeliers, and the elite high-society of Europe. Billionaires, diplomats, and international heiresses walked across the red carpet, sipping vintage champagne and wearing million-dollar diamonds. Tonight was the preliminary welcome gala before tomorrow's massive shareholders vote, and all eyes were on us.

I muttered, my cheeks burning again. “It’s not an insult. It’s a practical observation.” He sighed, a faint hint of exasperation finally coloring his tone. “I am thirty-two years old. My family, particularly my mother, believes my sole purpose now is to provide her with grandchildren and secure the ‘dynasty’.” He said the word with palpable distaste. “The blind dates have become… relentless. They are a distraction I can no longer afford.” I just stared at him, trying to process it. The most elusive billionaire on the planet, a man who could buy and sell small countries, was being hounded by his mom to settle down. It was so bizarrely, hilariously human that it was almost believable.

I stood in the midst of all the people dancing to the music that could be heard all the way to the end of the island. A glass of champagne was clutched in one hand and still full, I hadn't had a sip. My eyes were fixed on the object that was the reason I was on this island. David Alexander Thomas, the man rumoured to have an illegal business with blood on his hands. His name was always in my head when I received this business. He stood at the centre of the conversation, surrounded by several women with fake smiles.

“He’s a drop dead handsome billionaire that anyone with common sense would want in their pocket, and you’re moving into his space. I’m just saying, stay focused on the data, not the man.” I shoved in a pair of jeans with more force than necessary. “There is zero chance of that happening.” She rolled her eyes with such theatrical force I thought they might get stuck. “It’s not every day you stumble across a man willing to wire hundred million dollars for a pretend housewife. I’ll emphasize on that outrageous amount again, that’s more than enough capital to build a conglomerate from scratch if you want to.” “Still not the point,” I grumbled.

An invitation showed up in Zara’s inbox quietly, with no fanfare, just a simple notification and a fancy-looking digital card. It was black with shiny silver writing, clean and elegant. At the top, in bold letters, it read: “The Midnight Masquerade.” It wasn’t just any party. This was a private, high end event, thrown by a mysterious tech billionaire. Only the rich, famous, or very well-connected got invited. It was one of those parties where you had to either be someone or know someone important to get through the door.

And my wages wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. His eyes narrowed, one hand slipping into his pocket. Then someone called him from behind. “Hello Xavier Blackwood!” He turned back and waved briefly. Immediately My mind froze. Xavier Blackwood? The name was a popular, legendary whispered with power and money. A ruthless billionaire known for his icy demeanor and iron grip on his family empire. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my trembling hands. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The clash was too shocking and surprising.

I was still trembling, trying to catch my breath, when he stood up and slowly removed his mask. My eyes widened in shock. Victor Vale. The tech billionaire hosting the entire masquerade. He smirked down at me, dark eyes full of raw possession. “You’re mine for the rest of the night… and my best friend wants to watch.”