Masquerade ShadowsThe chandeliers of the Astoria Grand glittered like constellations trapped in crystal. Light poured down in cascades, igniting polished marble floors, mirrored pillars, and velvet-draped walls with a brilliance that seemed almost theatrical. It was a masquerade, but not merely for pleasure—this was theater, politics, and spectacle disguised as charity.Clara descended from the sleek black car at Ethan’s side, her hand slipping into his as though she were anchored by his steady presence. She wore ivory silk embroidered with threads of pale gold, the gown flowing like water around her every step. A silver filigree mask framed her eyes, concealing yet accentuating their depths. She looked ethereal, untouchable—a vision sculpted from light.Ethan himself was a dark counterpart to her radiance. His mask was black, sharp at the edges, designed not to charm but to command. In his midnight suit he stood tall, a figure carved from restraint and quiet dominance. Together, th

Whispers Before the StormThe chandeliers of the grand ballroom glittered with a thousand tiny flames, throwing shards of golden light across velvet drapes and polished marble. Clara stood near the edge of the dance floor, her heart pounding in her chest though her face remained composed. The words she had exchanged with Ethan at the gala’s close still burned in her mind.He had looked at her with those eyes—stormy, conflicted, protective to the point of suffocation—and had whispered something that left her trembling: “Not everyone here is who they claim to be.” Then he walked away before she could press him further.The warning lingered, curling around her thoughts like smoke.Guests clinked champagne flutes, laughing too brightly, speaking too loudly, their conversations forming a symphony of shallow gaiety. But beneath it all, Clara sensed an undercurrent, a tension threading through the air that only she seemed to feel.Across the room, Ethan was speaking with board members, his p

Interrogations The boardroom smelled of polish and tension. Every chair was occupied, yet the silence inside felt louder than the buzzing chaos of reporters gathered outside the glass towers of Grant Enterprises. Cameras flashed in the distance through the floor-to-ceiling windows, their strobes reflected like lightning strikes on the polished surface of the mahogany table.Ethan sat at the head, his posture impeccable, but his jaw tightened with each second that ticked by. Clara was beside him, her presence both anchor and thorn, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She could feel the glances that darted toward her—some sharp, some skeptical, and others filled with thinly veiled curiosity.“Ethan,” a board member finally broke the silence, his voice dry as parchment. “The press is circling like vultures. They’re tearing into the Foundation scandal, and now, thanks to the photographs…” His gaze flickered toward Clara. “…the narrative is spiraling into dangerous territory. We need an

The Ghost in the InkThe city had a way of holding its breath at night. Ethan felt it pressing against his skin as he sat in the back of the black sedan, Clara beside him, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Neither of them spoke at first. The leads from the Circle had narrowed to one place — a run-down printing press on the east side, shuttered for years. It was too neat, too deliberate, kane's fingerprints all over it.“Do you trust this?” Clara finally whispered.Ethan’s jaw clenched. “No. But I can’t ignore it.”He shifted his gaze out the window, scanning the blurred city lights. His mind wasn’t here — it was back in the study, the weight of Clara’s confession about the locket still fresh. She had given him her truth. He had given her pieces of his. But the fire… that secret still sat between them like a live wire.“Ethan,” she pressed, turning to him. “If kane’s really behind all this, if he left the note, if he’s watching us this closely—”“He is,” Ethan cut her off, his voice

The Betrayer’s MaskThe file trembled in Ethan’s hands. He had seen the name scrawled across a dozen transaction ledgers, all linked to kanes’s blood-soaked empire. His chest constricted.It wasn’t just anyone.It was Victor Hale—his oldest ally in the Circle, the man who had stood beside him in the boardroom wars, the one he trusted to guard Clara when his own shadow was compromised.Ethan clenched his jaw until it hurt. “Victor…”Clara, noticing his sudden silence, frowned. “What is it? What did you see?”He folded the page too quickly, shoving it back into his coat pocket. His voice came out calm, too calm. “Nothing conclusive yet. We need more proof.”Her eyes narrowed. “Ethan. Don’t lie to me.”He met her gaze. For a heartbeat, he almost told her. But the weight of betrayal was too fresh, too poisonous. He wasn’t ready to shatter the last of his trust aloud.“Later,” he said instead. “Right now, we move.”Clara hesitated, then nodded tightly. But doubt lingered in her eyes.Far