The masquerade was a cathedral of shadows.
Crystal chandeliers dripped light like molten glass, masks shimmered like secrets waiting to be told. The music was soft at first—strings that whispered danger between the notes.
Every guest wore a mask, but the true disguises were in their smiles.
Alexander's arm rested against the curve of Isabella's back as they stepped inside, his grip so tight she could feel the warning in his touch. Don't stray. Don't trust.
But she had her own warnings burning under her skin.
Evelyn. The message. The flash drive that could shatter everything.
They moved through the crowd like predators cloaked in silk.
Isabella's black mask fanned across her cheekbones, lace curling like thorns. She felt the weight of eyes on her—the men who wanted her, the women who wanted her gone.
And then she saw him.
Nicolai Vex.
Dressed in white, a phantom untouched by sin, his mask a porcelain smile. His gaze cut through the room and found her as if nothing else existed.
He extended a gloved hand.
"Isabella," he purred. "Would you grant me the first dance?"
Alexander's jaw clenched hard enough to crack glass.
"No," he said flatly.
Nicolai's smile sharpened.
"Come now, Alexander. Don't tell me you've grown… possessive?"
Isabella looked between them, her pulse a drumbeat in her ears. This was her move—the one Evelyn warned about in that broken recording.
So she smiled. Sweet. Dangerous.
And placed her hand in Nicolai's.
The ballroom faded as he led her to the center of the floor. His hand pressed against the small of her back, his voice a low murmur against the violins.
"You wear power well," he said. "Better than your sister."
Her breath caught. He knows.
He spun her, leaned close.
"She thought she could outplay me too. Poor Evelyn. So clever… yet so predictable."
Isabella's nails dug into his arm.
"What did you do to her?"
His laugh was a whisper of ice.
"What I always do. I let her believe she had a choice."
Across the room, Alexander watched with a stillness that burned. His fingers brushed the edge of his jacket—where the small, silver pistol slept like a promise.
He didn't hear the music anymore. Only the click of time running out.
When the dance ended, Nicolai bowed low and kissed Isabella's gloved hand.
"Midnight," he murmured against her skin. "The truth will unmask us all."
As she turned away, something slipped into her palm. A keycard.
She closed her fingers over it, forcing her breath to stay steady.
She didn't know Nicolai had seen the tremor in her hand.
He was already smiling.
Because while Isabella thought she held a weapon—
The flash drive in her clutch was empty.
In the shadows above the ballroom, a masked figure whispered into a hidden mic:
"Phase two complete. She took the bait."