Chapter 7 The Devil's Masquerade

Ethan stood before his mirror, his reflection staring back at him with unsettling clarity.

Something about his face was different tonight - a trace of tension lingered in every line, in the furrow of his brows, in the heaviness of his breath.

He adjusted his tie, his hands trembling slightly.

A quiet question echoed in the back of his mind:

Could tonight be the night?

Would he finally see her?

Would he have the chance to speak to her... even once?

The thoughts wouldn't stop - they swirled endlessly inside his head, pressing against his chest until it hurt to breathe.

He tried to silence them, reaching for the bottle of his personal cologne - the one crafted exclusively for him abroad, in a scent that no one else wore.

He sprayed it lightly across his neck and wrists, then gave himself one last look in the mirror.

Everything was in place - the suit, the watch, the composure.

Yet beneath that perfect exterior, a storm raged quietly within him.

He almost laughed under his breath.

For all his power and wealth, he suddenly felt like a nervous teenager -

a boy heading to meet the girl who had stolen his thoughts,

the girl whose absence had stolen his sleep.

Taking a deep breath, Ethan grabbed his jacket and walked out, his steps steady but his heart anything but.

⸻

Across the city, Thomas sat in the dim living room with his wife, Stella, recounting everything that had happened.

Stella gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes widening with feigned fear.

"Do you think that young man she was seen with... could it be him?"

Thomas snapped, his voice rising sharply.

"Enough of your accusations! You're always trying to stain your daughter's name.

You want her to turn out like your other one - that disgrace, Karina!"

He paused, his jaw tight, his voice softening into something broken.

"Amelia isn't like that. She's always been decent, respectful... never once brought us shame."

He exhaled slowly, the fight leaving him.

"Now isn't the time for blame. We have one priority - bringing our daughter back."

Stella leaned closer, her eyes glinting with greed as her hand slid toward the pile of cash on the table.

"Fine," she said with a silky voice,

"but only on one condition - every cent that man gives you... will be mine."

Thomas hesitated, guilt flickering briefly in his tired eyes.

Then, defeated, he nodded.

If that was the price to get his daughter back, he would pay it -

no matter the cost.

Amelia stood in the wide, luxurious kitchen, her body wrapped in the revealing outfit Sophia had chosen for her - a fragile piece of fabric that barely covered her.

She arranged trays of desserts and glasses of juice with trembling hands, trying to focus on the task in front of her, hoping it would drown out the feeling of shame twisting inside her chest.

Across the counter sat rows of wine bottles and expensive liquors, their glass shimmering under the lights.

Amelia's eyes lingered on them for a moment before she looked away.

She had never tasted alcohol in her life - and she had no intention of starting tonight.

Then, the music began - loud, pulsing, wild.

Laughter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the low murmur of flirtatious voices.

Her heart jumped when the kitchen door swung open and a half-dressed girl strode in, pointing at her with arrogant impatience.

"You there!"

Amelia froze, then replied softly, her tone polite but uneasy:

"Yes? Do you need something?"

The girl raised a perfectly shaped brow, her tone lazy and commanding.

"Wine. Now."

Amelia nodded quickly, poured a glass, and handed it over - careful not to look directly at her exposed body.

The girl took the glass with a sly smile, her perfume lingering in the air - a mix of expensive sweetness and something cheap beneath it.

But curiosity began to stir inside Amelia - a quiet, trembling instinct she couldn't suppress.

She stepped toward the small window overlooking the main hall, her breath catching in her throat.

The sight before her made her blood run cold.

Lights flashed across the crowded room, bodies moving in rhythm to the deep thrum of the music.

Men and women intertwined - laughter, skin, and sin blending together until it became hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

And there, at the center of it all, stood Sophia - surrounded by her girls, her smile sharp, her words lost beneath the music but her control unmistakable.

"Dear God..."

Amelia whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the noise.

This wasn't a birthday party.

This was a masquerade of lust - a trap disguised in luxury and light.

A sudden call from another waitress snapped her back to reality.

Amelia forced a small, nervous smile and hurried out of the kitchen, hiding the tremor in her hands as she stepped into the chaos beyond.

The hall was now almost full - men in tailored suits, their eyes glinting with power and hunger.

Businessmen, brokers, men who thought everything in life had a price - even innocence.

And then - silence.

The music faded, and every head turned toward the grand entrance.

Outside, a sleek black car rolled to a stop, its polished surface reflecting the shimmer of chandeliers.

He had arrived.

Ethan Carter.

The man whose name alone could silence a room.

The billionaire who rarely spoke - because when he did, the world listened.

Even Sophia - bold, untouchable Sophia - straightened her dress and painted her lips with a deceitful smile,

ready to play her most dangerous game yet.