Cecilia’s pov
I paused, slightly taken aback.
This VIP lady certainly had an interesting way of making conversation--flitting from wistful nostalgia to casual questioning in under five seconds.
She clearly assud I was so heiress from one of Denver’s old-money families.
How very country-club of her.
"Madam," I replied with a playful smile, "isn’t the entire point of a masquerade to preserve the mystery? I’m afraid I can’t answer that question."
She studied my face more carefully as I spoke, sothing flickering in her eyes--recognition, maybe? Or suspicion? Hard to tell in this lighting.
"You’re absolutely right," she laughed."What was I thinking? That Mrs. Dahlia and her thed parties... always reinventing the wheel. Why turn a perfectly good gala into a masquerade?"
"Exactly," I agreed lightly.
Privately, I thought:Probably to set you up, VIP lady.
That gold mask had felt like bait wrapped in satin. Whatever it was ant to trigger, it wouldn’t have ended well for her.
Why Mrs. Dahlia would go to such elaborate lengths to target this particular woman, I couldn’t say.
But I was sure of one thing--she wouldn’t stop until the curtain dropped.
Should I warn her?
We entered the ballroom, both caught up in our respective thoughts.
Heads turned instinctively as we stepped in.
After the earlier commotion with Miss Hazel’s entourage, my reappearance--now with a mystery companion in tow--was bound to fuel the grapevine.
"Madam," I said quietly, choosing my words with care, "I think you should consider leaving early tonight."
"Why?" The Real VIP asked, her smile still intact but her tone edged with curiosity.
I guided her toward the refreshnt table, keeping my voice light as we selected hors d’oeuvres.
"Please don’t panic--but I overheard sothing outside..."
I repeated the conversation I’d caught earlier in the hallway.
Despite my warning to stay calm, her face drained of color.
She froze mid-reach, fingers hovering above a canapé.
"My God," she whispered. "Why would she do this to ? I’ve never done anything to offend her."
I watched the panic bloom across her face, her composure unraveling by the second.
"Try to stay calm," I said gently. "Act natural. You might already be under observation."
"Right. Right. I’m calm," she said, taking a shallow breath and attempting a smile.
It ca out more like the expression you make when soone says ’cheese’ and you’re on the verge of a ltdown.
"Do I look natural?"
*Not even close. You look like a chandelier about to drop.*
I imdiately regretted saying anything.
I reached out and grasped her trembling hand.
"You should leave. But not alone. Call soone you trust to co pick you up. Until then, stay where there are people.
Don’t drink anything unless it cos from the bar directly. And don’t eat anything handed to you."
She nodded--hard and fast.
"That’s all I can do to help," I continued.
"I ca with friends. I need to get back to them before my absence becos a conversation starter."
I began to withdraw my hand.
She gripped it again, knuckles white.
"Please don’t leave . I’m scared."
And you think I’m not?
"Mrs. Dahlia will co looking for you soon," I said, my voice low. "I’ve already disrupted her plans. If I’m still with you, I’ll be in the crosshairs too."
"I’m sorry," she whispered, finally letting go. "I didn’t an to drag you into this."
Her composure was returning, inch by inch.
"Go," she said. "I’ll be alright."
"Stay calm. Act normal," I reminded her before walking away, a plate of tiny desserts in my hand like nothing had happened.
I wasn’t Harper. I didn’t carry a moral torch or fight for justice.
But I’d done my part.
I found Harper and Yvonne tucked away in a quiet corner, my plate of barely-touched cake balanced precariously in one hand as I filled them in on what had just happened.
They both went still.
Harper was the first to react, her expression hardening.
"If you’re going to help soone, do it properly," she said, decisive as ever. "We have Tang waiting outside--he should co in and escort her ho. Make sure she gets out safely."
Yvonne let out a long, asured breath. "And then what? Let Mrs. Dahlia know we’ve figured out her smoke and mirrors routine? Even if we get out of here tonight, we’ll have made a very well-connected enemy."
She glanced around the room, voice low. "Cecilia did the smart thing. Every woman here is either rich, ruthless, or both. If that guest is Dahlia’s target, she’s probably high-profile enough to look after herself. We don’t need to get dragged into soone else’s war."
Harper bit her lip, clearly torn, but didn’t argue.
I stabbed my fork into the cake without much enthusiasm, turning it into a sad swirl of icing and crumbs.
"Okay, ladies," I said, brushing cake crumbs off my skirt. "Ti to vanish before this party turns into a Netflix true cri doc. I’ll text Tang to et us out front."
"Agreed," Yvonne muttered, already rising. "This isn’t our pond. Let the sharks eat each other."
I pulled out my phone and tapped Tang’s na.
Dead silence. Then a chirpy, lifeless voice crackled in my ear:
"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."
I frowned and tried again. Sa thing.
A cold knot tightened in my stomach. Slowly, I lowered the phone.
Harper and Yvonne were already watching , their carefully composed expressions beginning to fray.
I forced a crooked smile. Not the reassuring kind. The "welp, we’re screwed" kind.
"Bad news," I said. "Tang’s gone dark."
Harper’s eyebrows pinched together. "Try Sebastian."
I did. Nothing. Tried calling Harper’s phone--right next to .
No ring. No buzz. Just another automated dead end.
"No signal?" she asked, glancing at her own screen.
I held mine up.
No bars. No Wi-Fi. Just two grim little words at the top: No Service.
I looked at them. "Either we’re in a dead zone..."
I paused. The silence felt too intentional.
"...or soone’s jamming the signal."
Yvonne’s eyes narrowed. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Dahlia had a backup plan. The mont the gold mask didn’t land where she wanted, she hit the kill switch."
Harper looked like she might actually explode.
"That’s insane!" she snapped. "What was Cece supposed to do--just stand there while soone got publicly humiliated? What if Dahlia was setting her up for sothing worse?"
Yvonne pressed her fingers to her temples like she was warding off a migraine.
"You should never have stepped in."
"That’s ridiculous," Harper shot back.
She leaned forward, eyes blazing. "In another life, you were definitely a knight in shining armor charging into battle for soone else’s honor."
Harper smirked. "I’ll take that as a complint."
Yvonne gave a tired laugh. These two--reckless, dramatic, loyal to a fault. Her people.
I pocketed my phone. "What’s done is done. No point dwelling on it. We’ll deal with whatever cos next."
And because the universe has a dark sense of humor, that was the exact mont the ballroom went pitch black.
The music cut out. A low hum filled the space. Then--light.
A single spotlight snapped on, illuminating the grand spiral staircase at the front of the room.
Descending the stairs with calculated grace was a woman in an elaborate black evening gown, her face completely concealed behind an ornate black mask that covered her entire face.
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