The Billionaire's Masquerade Where To Watch Novels & Stories

A murmur rippled through the crowd, shocked whispers spreading like wildfire. “A hundred million? Did he just say a hundred million?” one guest gasped, her hand clutching her pearls. “No way,” another man muttered under his breath, disbelief etched on his face. “Where’s he getting that kind of money?” "Who the hell is this guy?" whispered another voice. "He's willing to pay that much to save the Lelands?" Maria, standing behind Rene, could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know Gunnar well, but the sheer amount of money he was offering made her stomach twist with both fear and uncertainty. This was a game far bigger than she’d realized.

As we stepped into the luxurious stores, Evelyn leaned in and whispered, "Go wild, Soph! Julian's wallet can handle it." I laughed, feeling a sense of freedom. This was my chance to explore a side of life I had only ever dreamed about. Let's see how much "wild" Julian's wallet could handle. Our first stop was a boutique that glimmered with designer gowns and accessories. I slipped into a stunning long gown, envisioning myself wearing it to tomorrow's press conference. The fabric felt soft against my skin, and I could almost hear the flash of cameras in my mind. But before I could admire myself too long, Evelyn vetoed it, declaring, "That's not billionaire's wife material."

" I look at my friend and then at my wristwatch. It is already past 10 pm. I look back once again, wanting to go back home. The closer we get to the biviclub, the more goosebumps I get. I wasn't only nervous but anxious. At first, I never wanted to go to the biviclub, for the billionaire's party. Mila had insisted. Now I feel so tensed the closer I get to the club building. Everything about the party is weird, the fact that all girls have to wear masks. Dress in black sleeveless short gowns. Wear silver hills. Get a ticket. Once in, you can't leave until it's 4 am. All this drew a suspicious image in my head.

His eyes pierced right into mine, instilling fear and hatred all at once. On the right side of the room, the investors’ wives sat gracefully in their designated seats, including Emily. Her fake smile and innocent face were on full display. Everyone loved her. Until she saw me. Her smile shifted into that twisted smile of a psychopath, the kind I’d only seen on TV. Emily was a real psychopath. Both of them made my skin crawl in the middle of the crowd. “Jack, sorry, I need to use the restroom.” “Jack, sorry, I need to use the restroom,” I said quickly, slipping the camera into my sling bag.

It was about the forthcoming *Masquerade Night Gala*, one of the most exclusive events in town for billionaires and the upper echelon. Axel's lips curled in a sly grin as he read through the details of the *Masquerade Night Gala*. This was the perfect event: one of those high-society parties where money, power, and opportunity came together. And for a man like him, that meant so much more than a night in the lap of luxury. It meant possible new targets: impressionable women with fat wallets who fell easily into his charm and were played.

Outside the iron gates, news vans with satellite dishes lined the road, while drones hovered at a legal distance, hoping for a glimpse of the billionaire lawyer and his mysterious bride. Garette stood before a floor-to-ceiling mirror in his dressing suite, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked like a man about to walk into the most important closing argument of his life. His tuxedo was a deep midnight blue, so dark it appeared black until the light hit it—much like his mood. "The livestream has a million viewers already, Bro," his best man, Atty. Hector, remarked while checking his phone. "The public is obsessed. A billionaire bachelor finally caught by a nurse? It’s a fairy tale."

A small opening appears high above, between the glass counters. I watch, fascinated as the opening produces a smaller than usual, iPad looking television. Okay, cool! Damon deftly swipes through the remote until he gets to a channel currently streaming entertainment news. The flawless, blonde lady on the screen smiles at the camera as she divulges tidbits of whatever is happening in the lives of celebrities around the world. Where the hell is Mason? "...and in other, very exciting news, New York billionaire and seven time winner of most eligible bachelor, Mason Lachlan, is rumoured to be in some sort of love triangle…"

The screen shifted to a photograph. The same man. The same sharp jaw. The same dark, unreadable eyes. The same presence that had made her spine tighten with awareness. Her neighbor. The billionaire next door. Zayrielle stared, her heart pounding. This wasn’t just wealth. This was power—the kind that crushed people without ever touching them. The elevator dinged. She stepped inside, her thoughts racing. So that’s who he was. Which meant the men in suits. The tension. The warning. It all made sense.

She suddenly felt exposed in her own living room. Mason ended the call and looked at her. “I’ll have someone stationed downstairs.” “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I know.” The air between them felt fragile. Like one wrong word would shatter it. Her phone buzzed again. This time it wasn’t an unknown number. It was a news alert. She almost ignored it. Almost. Then she saw the headline. Tech Billionaire Mason Hart Spotted at Charity Gala with Model Alessandra Vale Her heart skipped.