All Chapters of BEHIND THE MASK: Chapter 91
- Chapter 100
104 chapters
I Bled For Him.
APRIL’S POVThe first alarm didn’t register.I thought it was another echo in my head, the way memories had been replaying on loop since the forest. But then a second alarm shrieked, high and urgent, and the hallway outside Sinclair’s ICU exploded into motion. Nurses darted past with trays, a doctor barked orders I couldn’t make out, and the red light above his door began to flash.My body reacted before my mind did. I shot to my feet, my legs trembling, my palms slick with sweat. No. No, no, no—“Sinclair?!” His name ripped out of me raw, shredded.I staggered forward, pushing through the tide of uniforms, but a guard caught me around the waist, his grip iron-hard.“Miss Dawn, you can’t—”“I have to!” My fists beat uselessly against his chest. “That’s his room! You don’t understand, I—he needs me!”The guard didn’t flinch. His voice was flat, practiced, as if he’d been told exactly what to say.“You’re not family. You’re not on the list. Step back.”Not family.The words gutted me wo
The Monster.
April’s POVI stormed out of Grandpa’s room before his words could trap me any tighter.But they followed me anyway— he said; stay away from Sinclair.They stuck to my skin, dug into my skull, and I hated that a part of me almost… believed him.The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and sterile, as I stumbled down the corridor. My legs moved, but my heart felt too heavy to carry. Every step was a battle between fury and defeat.And maybe he was right. Maybe fighting only made things worse. Veronica had the cameras, the hospital board, the world. What did I have? Scraps of love and a heart no one wanted to hear breaking.I stopped at a vending machine, staring at the blur of candy bars and soda cans behind the glass. My reflection stared back—wild hair, hollow eyes, a paper wristband marking me as patient, not partner.I looked… pitiful. Exactly what the headlines wanted me to be.The thought hollowed me out. Maybe I didn’t have to play their game anymore. Maybe I didn’t have to
Assistant In Custody.
APRIL’S POVThe cold bite of the metal cuffs was the first thing that seared itself into me. Not just my skin, my fucking bones. My wrists ached with every tug the officers gave, each click of the chains tightening like punishment. It wasn’t just restraint. It was accusation. A declaration to the world that I wasn’t April Dawn, the girl who found him, who saved him—I was April Dawn, suspect, liability and a problem.And God, everyone saw it.The hospital doors had swung open like a stage curtain, and the world outside screamed. Camera flashes burst in my face, so fast and blinding I couldn’t even see where the steps began. Voices crashed over each other, questions sharp and cutting, each one a blade I couldn’t deflect.“Is it true you tried to storm the ICU?”“Are you jealous of Miss Decker?”“Was this all about attention?”“Are you in love with him, Miss Dawn?”The last one pierced straight through my chest. I stumbled, my knees nearly buckling, and one of the officers jerked me upri
Company Secrets.
APRIL’S POVThe cuffs bit deeper every time the officer tugged my arm forward. My wrists ached, raw against the metal, and the sound of the chain clinking with every step seemed to echo louder than my pulse. My eyes burned from the camera flashes outside, the shouts, the questions that had chased me all the way here:“Miss Dawn, were you involved in this?”“Do you have anything to say about Sinclair Hale’s condition?”“Are you his mistress?”Mistress...mole..monster.The words tangled and strangled inside me.By the time the officers shoved me into the station, I could barely tell if I was shaking from the cold or from the shame.The interrogation room was worse than I imagined. Small, square, painted in that sickly pale gray that made you feel like a shadow of yourself. The air was colder than the night outside, stale with coffee and sweat. A single metal chair screeched as they pushed me down into it, the cuffs clanging against the edge of the table.My chest heaved as I tried to fo
The Game.
VERONICA'S POVThe hospital corridor buzzed like a live wire under my skin. The sterile smell of disinfectant mingled with the faint tang of blood and antiseptic, but I barely noticed. My eyes were on the chaos like a hawk, watching the aftermath of April Dawn’s little tantrum. Security guards hovered all tensed up e. Nurses whispered, glancing nervously toward the CCTV screens. And cameras… cameras everywhere, flashing in bursts that reflected off the polished floors, catching me like a deity in the making.I smoothed my coat, the navy silk falling perfectly around my shoulders, and inhaled deliberately. Calm, collected, untouchable—that’s the image I needed to radiate. Panic was for her. Desperation. Clumsy little April, broken at my feet, screaming and clawing for Sinclair. Poor girl. If only she understood that the world wasn’t waiting to rescue her. I already had it in my hands.I stepped aside, lifting my phone with a casual grace, my nails perfectly manicured, red the color of
Just Survive.
APRIL'S POVI couldn’t breathe. Every inhale felt like shards of glass in my lungs, every exhale was swallowed by the sterile walls around me. The chair beneath me was hard, unforgiving, and the cuffs bit into my wrists, cold and unrelenting. My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted out, and for a moment I thought it might burst.Cameras flashed somewhere outside, muffled by thick glass, but the light still pierced my eyelids when I blinked. I could hear them—reporters murmuring, guards shifting, the soft clink of a badge or keys. It all sounded like chaos distilled into sound, and yet somehow I felt invisible. Forgotten.Except I wasn’t invisible. Veronica was everywhere. Her face, plastered across the morning news screens outside the hospital. Her voice, gentle and controlled, telling everyone Sinclair was hers, that she was the one at his side. And me? I was the hysterical assistant, the girl clawing for attention. The world had swallowed my truth whole, and I could feel eve
The Real Game.
APRIL’S POVThe city lights outside the hospital cast jagged shadows across the walls of my apartment, but I barely noticed. My mind was still trapped in the chaos of the last twenty-four hours—the flashing cameras, Veronica’s smug face, the way the world had chewed me up and spat me out like I was nothing. My hands itched to move, to grab someone, to fight, but all I could do was sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds that felt like hours.I could still feel the sting of the cuffs on my wrists, the cold plastic chair under me in the hospital waiting lounge, the cameras clicking through the glass doors. The memory played over and over in my mind like some cruel film. And yet, the worst part wasn’t that—I had survived it. The worst part was knowing Sinclair hadn’t. Not fully. He was still out there, unconscious, bleeding, fighting for his life, and I hadn’t been able to do a thing to protect him.I swallowed the lump in my throat, tasting the bitter ash
Next Move.
APRIL’S POVThe city had gone dark outside, but inside my apartment, the lights were harsh, cutting into my eyes like accusation. I didn’t notice. My focus was entirely on the papers spread across the small table, the files Grandpa had given me, each one a potential weapon. I ran my fingers over the printed spreadsheets, the photographs, the email chains, and the small notes scribbled in the margins—every piece of intel a thread to pull in this tangled web.I leaned back in the chair, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. The smell of old paper and ink mingled with the faint tang of antiseptic still clinging to me from the hospital. My heart thumped against my ribs like a warning drum. Every file told a story. Every note whispered the truth about the people who had conspired against Sinclair—and against all of us.Veronica. Her name felt like a knife in my chest. The poise, the perfect red lipstick, the camera-ready tears while I had been dragged through the hospital, cuffed, humiliated.
He Is Awake.
April’s POVThe first thing I noticed when I woke was the quiet. The world outside my little room seemed muted, as if the city itself had hushed to watch me struggle. The hum of my laptop was loud against the silence, the faint scent of yesterday’s coffee clinging stubbornly to the air. My hands hovered over the keyboard, but I didn’t type. I couldn’t. My mind was spinning faster than I could organize it.Sinclair was awake somewhere in this city, fighting through tubes and monitors, and I couldn’t be there. I couldn’t touch him, speak to him, or even sit near him without risking another public spectacle. The thought gnawed at me like acid. My chest felt tight, my fingers trembling with helpless fury. Veronica had managed to turn the entire narrative against me, painting me as hysterical, obsessive, unstable. Every word, every headline, every whispered rumor echoed in my skull.But I wasn’t going to let her win. Not this time.I pulled the laptop closer, scanning the folder Grandpa ha
Only Me.
Veronica’s POVThe glow from my tablet cast a pale light across the room, painting my cheekbones sharper, my eyes colder than they already were. I sipped my champagne, slow and deliberate, savoring the tiny luxury of a moment uninterrupted by chaos—though the hospital feeds flickering in the corner told another story.April Dawn was in a meltdown somewhere in the St. Mary’s lobby. I could see the desperation in her movements, even through the grainy camera footage. Her hair clung damp to her forehead, her hospital gown half-slipping, and her hands shook like a leaf in a storm. And yet… she was predictable. She always had been.A low laugh escaped me. So much emotion, so much raw hysteria, all pointed in my direction, all wasted. She believed Sinclair Hale belonged to her because she had saved him from the forest, because she had bled beside him. She was proud of that, wasn’t she? Proud of her loyalty, proud of her devotion. Foolish, naïve, tragically… human.I set the glass down, lean