The chill of the Ridgefall night was masked by the warm glow of luxury sedans pulling up outside The Glass Veil Ballroom, an elite venue reserved for only the most clandestine of meetings and extravagant gatherings. Tonight's event? A masquerade organized under the guise of a university fundraising gala—sponsored by billionaire families and alumni across nations.
Ochieng stepped out of his matte-black Bugatti La Voiture Noire, a sleek mask of obsidian and gold shielding half of his chiseled face. His presence alone sent shivers through the crowd.
Inside, the ballroom was a cathedral of seduction and strategy. Velvet drapes, chandeliers dripping with crystals, and orchestral music set a tone that danced between elegance and hidden agendas. Everyone wore masks—not just on their faces, but in their hearts.
Dr. Seraphina Atieno, 29, a new literature lecturer from Paris, glided across the dance floor. Her black feathered mask couldn't hide her glowing chocolate skin, piercing gray eyes, or the sensual curves that had students stuttering in her presence. Rumor had it she once dated a European prince. Her flaw? Addicted to mystery—and drawn to forbidden love.
She spotted Ochieng instantly. "You don't belong here," she whispered, taking his hand.
"Neither do you," he replied, leading her into the dance.
Unknown to the crowd, every turn they took was calculated. Every step—closer to secrets that threatened to consume them.
Meanwhile, across the room, Lucius Mwamba, 26, CEO of a luxury real estate firm and one of Ochieng's distant cousins, nursed a drink laced with resentment. His family, once royalty in another country, had fallen out of favor. His ambition? Take back everything—starting with the university shares Ochieng secretly owned.
Lucius wasn't alone. With him was Clara Mutesi, 23, a campus "it girl" with sharp cheekbones, emerald eyes, and a dangerous smile. She wore a crimson dress that flowed like blood and a mask that barely concealed her smirk. She had dated Jasper, flirted with Ochieng, and now? She was working with Lucius. Not for love—for revenge.
"He won't see it coming," Clara whispered, eyes locked on Ochieng.
"No," Lucius replied. "Because we're not attacking his empire…"
"We're burning his name."
Back on the dancefloor, Ochieng twirled Seraphina, but his mind wasn't with her—it was on the message he had received moments before entering:
> "Your father was never just a businessman. Meet me on the rooftop before midnight. Come alone. Or your truth dies with me."
Signed: X
Midnight ticked closer.
At the rooftop, the wind howled. Ochieng's masked silhouette stood tall as the door creaked open. A figure stepped out—tall, draped in a royal blue cloak and an ivory fox mask.
"I know who you are," Ochieng said.
"No, you think you do," the figure replied in a feminine voice. "Your empire was built on betrayal. But you're not the traitor—your mother was."
Ochieng's heart stilled.
"What do you mean?"
"She wasn't just married to your father. She was the daughter of his greatest enemy. And she gave you two lives… one of light, one of lies."
Lightning cracked across the sky.
"And tonight," the woman continued, stepping closer, "you must choose."
Below, the ballroom erupted into chaos.
Lucius and Clara had hacked the projector screens, broadcasting Ochieng's sealed university files, secret property deals, and—most damaging—a doctored video of him holding Bella.
Screams. Gasps. Whispers of "Predator!" and "Fake!"
Ochieng looked over the ledge. His enemies were dancing in his funeral, thinking they'd buried him.
But storms didn't die in the rain.
They became hurricanes.
He turned to the cloaked woman. "I choose truth. But not theirs. Mine."
She smiled.
And for the first time, Ochieng realized—he had no idea whose side she was truly on.