The Billionaire's Masquerade Where To Watch Mga Nobela at Kwento

For the one man in the room who could write a single check that would keep my company from dying. I just didn’t know his face yet. The annual Voss Foundation Masquerade was the place where old money and new money fucked each other—literally and figuratively—behind silk and feathers and the polite fiction of anonymity. Everyone wore masks. Everyone pretended the silk made the sins lighter. I was here as Lena Cross, founder of a cybersecurity startup that needed a Series A or it would be dead by Christmas, and the biggest potential investor was rumored to be attending under a plain black half-mask.

Me in that silver dress, standing far too close to Alexander Lancaster. His hand was at my waist. I remembered the moment his touch, the confusion in his eyes. And now it was plastered across the internet. The headline was bold and cruel: **'Nichole Adams Caught in Scandal with Billionaire Alexander Lancaster — Betrayal Runs in the Family?’** My stomach dropped. “Oh God…” Claire exhaled slowly. “It’s already everywhere. T*****r, gossip sites, even some business pages.” I took her phone, scrolling through the comments.

My chest tightens painfully as I stare at the screen, frozen, Derek and Anastasia are walking in first, and his hand is wrapped around her waist like it belongs there, like it has always belonged there and then I hear it. “Let’s welcome Mr. and Mrs. Addams in the building, the world’s youngest billionaire!” The words hit me like a slap. Mr. and Mrs. Mrs. My heart sinks even deeper as the reality settles in, sharp “Also, as a special guest, we will be having Mr. Daniel Victor Aiden, a renowned nutritionist, in the room with us!” The crowd erupts into applause, I let out a hollow, humorless breath, of course. Of course this is happening.

Kasen picked up his black mask, turned his back on them, and walked out. The masquerade ball was a glittering, decadent display of wealth and shadow. The grand ballroom was filled with hundreds of masked billionaires, classical music swirling under the high, vaulted ceilings. The masks hid the greed and hunger of the elite, their eyes shining behind gold and silver lace. Kasen stood in the shadows of a marble pillar, his eyes glued to Maeva. She wore a breathtaking, midnight-blue gown, her face partially obscured by a delicate silver lace mask. Julian was standing beside her, trying to look charming despite the faint red marks on his neck.

Sophia forced herself to remain calm until the men finally left. Only after closing the door did she release the breath she had been holding. For a moment, she simply stood there in silence while staring at the pile of unpaid bills resting on the table. The weight of everything suddenly felt unbearable. SOPHIA MILLER never imagined that one wrong door would ruin the life she had spent years trying to hold together. The rain outside poured heavily against the dark streets of Manila, turning the city cold and restless by midnight. Inside the club, however, everything remained alive—dim lights, expensive liquor, loud laughter, and people rich enough to waste money like it meant nothing.

“Oh you’re invited Miss Dubois. And you’re going to make all those snooty bitches jealous. It’s a masquerade. You’re going to show my man Grayson, and every man in that room, what the fuck he’s missing out on. Deal?” He held his arm out to her again. An invitation, an expectation. She looped her arm around his. “I’m in.” He nodded and led her up to the boutique. She had some extra bounce in her step, and held her shoulders nice and high, tits forward. It was time for her Pretty Woman moment. Too fucking bad she couldn’t achieve those Julia Robert’s nineteen nineties curls, but she certainly had the hooker boots. And she totally rocked that shit. She totally intended to rock this Halloween Ma

Just when I’m about to take a step towards the escalator, leading to the airport exit, another text pings inside my phone, causing me to look down, and instantly I frown when I see that it’s from Ava. Ava – What the fuck, man? What’s the meaning of all this? My brows scrunch up in confusion at the absurd text but it’s all cleared when I see a news article attached with it. I click open the attachment and nearly fall like a blob of mud on the ground when I read the headline of the article. ’FAMOUS ELUSIVE BILLIONAIRE, BLAZE HUNTER SIGHTED LEAVING HIS UNCLE’S MASQUERADE BALL WITH HIS FORMER FLAME, DIANA PIETRO’

"Or I would take all your businesses, houses, and cars if you disobeyed." I threw my phone through the wall after reading her intimidation towards me. She's a crazy knucklehead mother! I leaned back in my chair and stared at the broken glass of the phone scattered on the floor, realizing something was important in there. "Damn! The picture." I immediately stood up, picked it up, and tried to open it. But it's too late; it's broken. I sat down and sighed. This isn't what I expected to happen. Now, Brandon Rhey, the youngest billionaire of the Wilsome family, has been obligated to comply with the legacy of the family by marrying a woman who is as wealthy as we are.

I felt the hot liquid splash across my bare feet, but I barely reacted. “…the scandal rocking the nation this morning,” a woman’s voice said over the photos, “when pictures of a billionaire’s very public encounter with a woman of… let’s say, ‘questionable occupation,’ surfaced last night on TMZ.com. That very billionaire, Connor Templeton – of the famously rich family – will be joining us via live feed in just a few minutes from Los Angeles to explain his side of the story.” I sank weakly onto the couch and watched, my stomach churning, as more pictures of my enraptured face flashed across the screen.