The Mask Novel Novels & Stories

© Angel Adigwe, 2022 Published by Angel Adigwe. INTRODUCTION Damien white is the CEO of white enterprises. An event which occured in the past led to him always wearing a mask over his face. But no one really knew what happened. Even when he gets asked by people about the reason for the mask he still refuses to disclose anything about it and instead choose to live like that. But there's was a particular someone though who always puts a smile on Damien's face and gives him joy each time he thinks of her.

“What makes you think I am going to come to one of those boring party with you? I told you I don't want to be seen with you in public, are you rebelling?“ May asked him, her arms crossed on her body. He chuckled a bit, then his face went serious when he saw her glare. She had always heard stories about clingy billionaires like him who thinks the world revolves around them. He promised to protect her, is he going to break that promise this soon? “It's a mask party. You don't have to show your face, you can continue being a mystery woman.“ He replied her. A masked party? What's this? Halloween happened already and she is not aware? Why does rich people like these boring mask parties? What if s

"Well, even so. Do you like Allura, Mask?" "I'm well aware that I'm only here to watch over her," Mask replied, slightly curtly. "Huh? Hey! Are you a stalker or something?!" Haru gasped. "Wha— no?! The fuck? The way you worded it. Oh my God," Mask heavily sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in stress. "It's not like that."

Then, suddenly, he sprung from the couch. A servant promptly handed him his coat, and he quickly left the mansion. Two hours later, Hayden pulled up in front of Glen Corporation's entrance. He exited the vehicle with a large bouquet of colorful flowers. "Sir, how may I assist you?" The receptionist in Glen Corporation's lobby asked him politely as she stopped him from entering the building. Hayden was a singer. When he went outside, he frequently wore a mask and a hat. Today was no exception. He wasted no time in trying to persuade the receptionist when he heard the question. He hesitated for a while before removing his hat and mask.

At this hidden mask party, the rules dissolved with the champagne. Ken swallowed hard and looked away, but the night offered only more. Guests in every corner had their hands full. As Ken wandered through the party, he saw two men and one woman tangled tightly together, masks askew and clothes half-unbuttoned. The woman’s hands moved over one man’s lap as she unbelted his trousers, rolling her hips slowly while the second man kissed her from behind, hands cupping and squeezing her breasts. Soft gasps and wet sounds mingled with the sea breeze. The air itself felt thick with sex, lust, and expensive perfume. Ken had already seen too much. He decided to search for Steve—this was Steve’s world.

I moved closer, each step careful, deliberate. The doorbell didn’t ring. No knock. Just silence. But when I opened the door, the night air swept in cold and heavy. And there, on the mat, lay a small black box. My hands trembled as I picked it up and lifted the lid. Inside — my necklace. Clean. Untouched. And beneath it, a note written in the kind of handwriting that smiled while it warned: Masks aren’t meant to hide, Mariam. They’re meant to reveal.

Inside, the space resembled a luxurious boutique with plush velvet seating, elegant vanities, and an entire wall dedicated to masks of every description… from simple silk dominos to elaborate feathered creations worthy of a Venetian carnival. "Select whatever speaks to you," Madam V said, gesturing to the display. "For your first visit, I recommend something that feels comfortable while still providing adequate coverage, it will make you feel more comfortable… safe." Honey approached the wall, her fingers skimming over the various options. She was drawn to a deep emerald mask adorned with delicate copper filigree that matched her dress perfectly. The mask covered from her forehead to just ab

Judd said as he used a cloth to remove the excess lube and helped her to stand. "One last item," he said. He presented her with a black Venetian lace mask. "I have one like it. Well, nearly anyway. The Fantasy Ball is a masquerade. No one will ever know who we are." Using the tip of her forefinger, Jessi lightly stroked the beautiful creation. Delicate black filigree would cover most of her face from her upper lip to her forehead, and the mask had dramatic white rhinestone brows that arched from the inner corners of her eyes to the middle of her temples. She held the mask in place while Judd fastened it behind her head.

Once more, the world—her world—is dying. Additionally, the Noble and the Masked Man are destroying one another. Not with swords. Using words. Using memory. With grief. “You ruined her,” the Masked Man snarls, dragging the Noble to his knees with a wave of divine power. “You caged her. Bound her in chains and called it love.” “She would’ve destroyed herself!” the Noble shouts back, blood in his teeth, eyes glowing with silver. “You only fed the fire she was trying to control!”

I snap back, just as the door swings fully open. The man in front steps inside, holding a cattle prod, its metal tip gleaming ominously. He moves just enough to allow another man to enter, who silently sets a jug of water down on the rickety table before turning to leave. “Wait!” I shout, my voice sharp and urgent. The men pause, glancing back. “We will negotiate. What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm despite the tension in the air. The man at the front turns his masked face toward me. His expression is hidden, but his posture radiates control. “We want nothing,” he says, his voice distorted, processed through some kind of modulator. It’s deliberate—a calculated move to ensur