Twisted Wonderland Glorious Masquerade Novels & Stories

Melissa asks. Lauren said nothing, she pushed the clothes off her face and squeezed the letter in her hand. She was glaring at Melissa, and one thing was in her mind, that she was done with the way she has been treated,it's better for other people to do It but not the McCarthy family. “Aren't you going for your wedding? I thought it's today” Lauren asked. Melissa arch her brow then burst into laughter. “To think i Melissa McCarthy, will mardy a cripple is so funny, i understand you, i mean you think everyone is like you so you would have definitely thought i will marry him” Melissa said.

"Call you when I land?" "You better." "Be safe. Don’t let Maya drag you into anything." "No promises." I blew him a kiss. "Good luck." He caught it, pressed his hand to his chest. The call ended. I stared at the blank screen, missing him already. Then I remembered the email. It was right at the top. Subject: Something for us I clicked. "I got us tickets to the Crimson Masquerade next Friday. Costumes, dancing, dramatic lights, vampires, forbidden lovers — all the dramatic things you love.

And, of course, because it was a masquerade, each attendee, both man and woman, donned a mask that obscured half or all of their faces, adding even more mystery to the already mysterious identities of those present. Miranda was confronted with this scene as she walked inside, her hand tugged into Andrew's elbow, and her eyes opened and her jaw dropped in wonder. She'd never seen so much opulence in her entire life! The people, the tables, and the decorations! This was sheer money and power, oh my God.

Sequel to 'Amidst Chaos' but can be read as a stand-alone also. Happy Reading! I watched the people around me having a good time as I kept chugging on drink after drink to drown my sorrows and pain. It was a little early to be drinking at a bar but I didn't give a shit. I could see people giving me weird stares at my attire. I mean, of course, it wasn't normal to see a guy dressed in a tux at a bar, drinking like a maniac, at this time of the day.

But I clenched my fist tightly. Just what was this place? I was sure they weren't my real parents, but they wore my parents' faces. Everything was so twisted and bizarre. What was I supposed to do? At dinner, I found a finger on my plate, a shiny platinum ring wrapped around it, strangely familiar. Cold sweat ran down my back when I saw the human finger appearing on the dinner table. I set the finger aside and forced myself to eat the pasta as I tried not to throw up, one small bite at a time. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach churning.

Expensive perfumes from various brands lingered in the air. Rose was stunned, surrounded by high-society guests. At the entrance, Aaron showed their RSVP invitation. The greeter then handed each of them a mask with a handle. Aaron and Rose exchanged confused looks. “What’s this?” Aaron asked. The greeter smiled widely. “It’s a masquerade theme, sir. You can see it on the invitation.” Aaron handed one of the masks to Rose. “Looks like my prayer was answered,” he joked. Rose simply smiled and placed the half-mask over her face. The sound of classical music flowing from inside made it feel like stepping into a royal era.

It makes my jaw tighten. Grant’s Hall comes into view in my mind before it does in reality. Grant’s Hall. Grant’s Slaughterhouse. That’s what the men call it when they think no one’s listening. A masquerade for monsters. Silk masks, tailored suits, and enough blood history soaked into those marble floors to drown a city. Alliances are formed there. Empires rot there. People disappear there. And I’m only going back because of Tobias’ fucking secret. My fingers curl slowly against my thigh.

Cold seeped through my hair, into my skull, a chill that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the shape of the future unfolding. The Masquerade. Every year, the Academy's elite hid their faces behind silk and enchanted gold. Every year, sins were committed behind masks that would be politely forgotten come dawn. It was the pinnacle of social theater - a night where identity dissolved and only power remained. It was also, I realized, the perfect place for a public execution dressed as a rescue.

“I don’t want to stop you from doing what you want, Zara. But…I don’t feel good about it. Just…be careful, okay?” I nodded, the unease curling in my stomach. Her words clung to me all afternoon. . By evening, Blackwood had transformed. Silken banners in midnight blue and gold draped from the high ceilings of the Grand Hall. Tables glittered with crystal goblets and black candles flickering. Music drifted from the far balcony where the academy’s orchestra played their cold, elegant pieces. It was the annual Masquerade. A tradition older than any living student, where anything could flit freely behind masks and alliances were formed or broken under the influence of chandeliers.

Not even a hello. We walked in together anyway, the three of us. The event hall was glowing. It was all designer dresses and expensive perfume. Women with diamonds as big as my thumb. Men laughing too loudly over glasses of wine. A soft band played in the background. It was elegant, extravagant, intimidating.