Chapter 3 - THE BALL OF BROKEN MIRRORS
Two weeks later,
the elite of the city gathered for the annual Winter Gala.
It was a masquerade ball,
a concept that felt far too literal for Adrian and me.
He wore a black tuxedo,
his mask of age flawlessly applied,
leaning on my arm as we entered the grand ballroom.
I wore a dress of emerald silk,
my face half-hidden by a silver filigree mask.
Every eye was on us.
The "old billionaire" and his "bought bride."
I could hear the whispers like the hissing of snakes.
"She looks like a widow in training,"
one socialite murmured.
"He won't last the winter,"
another replied with a snicker.
I kept my head high,
steering Adrian toward the VIP lounge where my parents were holding court.
My mother was draped in furs,
holding a glass of champagne like a scepter.
My father looked aged,
his face puffy from stress and expensive bourbon.
"Evelyn,
darling,"
my mother cooed,
kissing the air near my cheek.
"And Mr. Vale,
how wonderful to see you out of bed."
"The night air is bracing,"
Adrian croaked,
his performance as a frail man never wavering.
"Especially when surrounded by such...
vibrant company."
Marcus approached us,
looking agitated.
"Alden,
a word?"
he asked,
gesturing toward a private balcony.
"The bank called today."
"They said the wire transfer from your account was flagged."
I felt a surge of adrenaline.
The flag was my doing,
a careful bit of digital sabotage that made the funds look suspicious.
"Flagged?"
Adrian asked,
feigning confusion.
"But I gave the authorization myself."
"Something about anti-money laundering protocols,"
Marcus hissed,
his voice low and panicked.
"I need you to call your manager and clear this up immediately."
"The cartel is breathing down my neck!"
I stepped in,
placing a soothing hand on Marcus’s arm.
"Brother,
don't upset him."
"You know his heart is weak."
"I’ll handle the bank in the morning,"
I promised,
giving him a look of sisterly devotion that made me want to vomit.
"I have all the account codes."
Marcus looked relieved,
unaware that he had just handed me the final key to his destruction.
As we walked away,
Adrian leaned in close,
his breath warm against my ear.
"You’re a natural liar,
Evelyn,"
he whispered.
"It runs in the family,"
I retorted.
"But at least I’m lying for the right side."
Suddenly,
the music changed,
shifting into a haunting waltz.
Adrian stopped,
handing his cane to a passing waiter.
"May I have this dance,
my wife?"
"You're supposed to be dying,"
I whispered,
horrified.
"The mask covers the face,
not the soul,"
he replied,
taking my hand and leading me onto the dance floor.
He moved with a sudden,
surprising grace,
keeping his steps slow enough to maintain the illusion,
but firm enough to let me know he was in control.
In that moment,
under the crystal chandeliers,
the revenge felt secondary.
There was a connection,
a dark,
magnetic pull between two people who had both been betrayed by the world.
"When this is over,"
Adrian said,
his eyes locked on mine behind the silver mask.
"What happens to the accountant?"
"She goes where the numbers are balanced,"
I said.
"And where the names are clean."
"There is a beach in Greece,"
he murmured.
"Where the sand is white and no one knows the name Vale or construction."
"Is that a promise or a threat?"
I asked.
"It's an invitation,"
he said,
as the music reached its crescendo.
But the moment was broken as a man in a dark suit stepped onto the floor.
He didn't have a mask.
May you like
He had a scar across his throat and eyes like a shark.
The cartel had arrived.
