The Masked Heiress: Don't Mess With Her Romane & Geschichten

"You are so beautiful your skin color really compliments the color of the dress. We will buy this one then we should buy a mask that will suit this dress." My forehead frowned. "Mask, what with the mask?" "Oh, it is a masquerade party. But don't worry, by the end of the program, we will all remove the mask to see each other," she answered the left me for a while. I was about to go to the fitting room when I saw Lieutenant Dizon looking at me. Why is he here? What is he doing here in the dress shop? When our eyes met, he smiled genuinely, I looked away then turned my back. I blushed really hard. Why is he so handsome?

The grand ballroom was a kaleidoscope of opulence, with glittering chandeliers casting soft golden light across the room. Dignitaries, tycoons, and socialites moved through the space, their laughter and idle chatter creating a symphony of power and wealth. In the center of it all stood her, masked and enigmatic, her mere presence commanding respect and fear. She wore a sleek black gown that clung to her figure, the long train trailing behind her like shadows she could never escape. The mask concealed much of her face, but her eyes—sharp and distant—pierced through anyone who dared to meet them.

Seeing the smile on his face, I know it must be something that'll help us. “What if your maid changes into your dress and represents you?" He suggested. My maid? That's impossible. No one knows me, but Raymond will definitely see her and he'll be happy I am not the one out there. “Yes, ma'am, let's do this. I'll change into your dress, and also use a face mask so no one will recognize me." Does this girl have a hand in this? She was the one who brought the face mask from Raymond. Could they have conspired together so they'll have me here while she goes out there to pretend she's me?

The makeup masked the bruises, but nothing could hide the exhaustion in her eyes. The weight of the day pressed down on her. Last night’s torment. This morning’s humiliation. And now, the dread of the event ahead. A sharp voice shattered the silence. "Get down here, Suzanne!" Beatrice. Her mother-in-law’s voice was like a blade, slicing through the walls, demanding obedience. Suzanne swallowed hard and grabbed her handbag, fingers tightening around the leather as if it could anchor her. She hurried down the stairs, her heart pounding. The maids were already finished with their tasks, their movements efficient and practiced. Meanwhile, she was late. Unprepared. Not even enough time to finish

She desperately wanted to know how he found out she was the heiress and how he found her the previous night. In her experience, protection was never a gift; it was always a trade. Theo’s price was a contract marriage that essentially placed her under his legal guardianship for the next twelve months. But as she looked at her wine-stained reflection in the mirror, Elena realized she didn't need to trust Theo Sterling for her to use him as a shield. She stood up slowly, her body aching from the tension of the night. She walked to the bathroom and began to peel off the ruined silk dress, letting it fall to the floor like a shed skin.

One month ago… “Good Morning people of New York, this is Radio Splash FM and I’m your girl Miranda Lain. Now I’m sure I told everyone last week, that Splash FM will be having an interview with the sensational, one and only, L.K, aka the Masked Queen of New York City. We’re going to be having an impersonal, phone interview to give everyone a chance to know what’s behind the sudden news of a breakup between L.K and her agency. Please, everyone, hold on while we make this call.” *~*~*~* “Over here, she ran over here!” I increase my pace and barge through the emergency doors, running down the stairs with heavy breaths. I stop on the last stair and wait to hear if they’re still chasing after me,

The bodice was structured like a ribcage, boned with steel and covered in delicate, hand-stitched lace that looked like climbing vines—or thorns. ​In two hours, I would walk into a masked ball. A "merger celebration," Daniel had called it. To the elite of Shanghai, I would be Anastasia Drewmore, the mysterious and untouchable heiress. The mask would protect me. The mask would allow me to look for the truth without the world seeing the terror in my eyes. ​I pulled the matching mask from the bag. It was a delicate work of laser-cut filigree, black metal twisted into the shape of a weeping willow, adorned with tiny, dark crystals. It was beautiful. It was a cage for my face.

“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

“Good. Call her. Let her take this girl out for a makeover.” “I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped. Matteo laughed. “Don’t mess with me, Bambi.” “I’ll mess with you over and over again, Matteo.” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, then walked out with Xavier. I slipped on my slippers and glared daggers at the door. That arrogant man wanted to take me to a masquerade ball? He had no idea what was coming. A maid entered. “Good morning, ma’am. The Don has asked you to wear black tonight—it’s the color of the evening.”

The halls of Moonspire Castle were ablaze with light, golden chandeliers scattering their glow across a sea of silk and jewels. Music poured from the vaulted ceilings — strings and flutes weaving together a melody both haunting and mesmerizing. Serenya stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, hidden behind a silvered mask that curved like the crescent moon. Every noble, duke, and emissary swirled before her in brilliant colors, yet she felt like an intruder at her own stage. No one here knew who she truly was — the lost heiress of Vale, the girl raised in shadows. Tonight, she was only another masked lady at the duke’s elaborate masquerade.