FOUR
499 Words
Chapter 4 – Clash of Masks
That night, the mansion once again came alive with brilliance, merriment, and the noise of a lavish gathering. The grand chandeliers glittered above as the guests—well-known figures of society dressed in elegant gowns and adorned with precious jewels—moved gracefully across the ballroom.
Althea stood at the top of the staircase, wearing a gown she had not chosen for herself but had been chosen for her. The silk clung to her skin, shimmering with every movement. Yet instead of beauty, it brought only heaviness—not from the fabric, but from the eyes fixed upon her. Measuring her. Judging her. Belittling her.
Xavier approached, imposing in his black suit, seemingly untouched by fatigue or doubt. He leaned slightly toward her and whispered firmly, though his voice was low.
“Smile, Althea. Tonight, you are not yourself—you are mine.”
The words split her chest apart—oppressive, possessive. She turned to him, forcing a smile onto her lips.
“Yours? Or just property bound by a contract?”
Xavier glanced at her, his eyes cold as steel.
“Is there a difference?”
Her chest constricted, but she did not yield. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as the fire inside her threatened to blaze out of control.
The evening carried on with the same rhythm—laughter, toasts, and endless introductions. With each moment, Althea continued to play the role she had been given. But every handshake she accepted, every smile she gave, felt like thorns scratching and clawing at her heart.
And then she appeared.
A woman in a crimson silk gown, confident, with eyes brimming with secrets. She walked toward Xavier as though the two of them were the only people in the room.
“Xavier,” she purred, her voice sweet as she gently placed her hand on his arm. “It’s been such a long time since we last met.”
Althea froze. She told herself she had no right—she shouldn’t feel anything. After all, everything between her and Xavier was just a charade. Yet her heart skipped, and jealousy quietly sank its teeth into her.
Xavier introduced them, his tone cold, his face emotionless.
“Althea, this is Clarisse. An… old acquaintance.”
Clarisse’s brows furrowed slightly before she smiled—sharp, almost taunting.
“An acquaintance? Oh, Xavier, that hurts. Have you already forgotten that there was more than that?”
Her words echoed like poison. Althea’s smile remained in place, hiding the storm that churned inside her. But she noticed the slight tightening of Xavier’s jaw—a subtle sign that he was concealing something he did not want exposed.
And that night, a question surfaced in Althea’s heart—more dangerous than any whisper of high society:
Who was Xavier, truly, behind the mask he wore?
And more than that—was she ready to uncover it, even if it meant sacrificing her own heart?
- Writer
