chapter 3:Black masks
1729 Words
The atmosphere in the Carter Family villa courtyard was suffocatingly tense, heavy with an unspoken malice that chilled the evening air.
Not a single person dared to speak. Dozens of eyes remained fixed on Theo Carter some cold, some indifferent, and many gleaming with cruel, unrestrained mockery.
Theo stood isolated near the iron gates, his body trembling slightly under the strain. His left foot, wrapped in stained surgical bandages, throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. The grueling transition from the icy corridors of the hospital to the damp soil of the cemetery, and finally to this grand courtyard, had drained the last remnants of his physical strength.
Yet, the physical pain paled in comparison to the agonizing atmosphere surrounding his family. The way they looked at him felt like an executioner’s gaze. They looked at him as though he were a parasite an absolute outsider.
At the center of the crowd stood his grandfather, the undisputed patriarch of the Carter family. The elderly man’s heavy golden cane remained planted firmly against the marble pavement, the echo of its earlier strike still hauntingly present.
Theo swallowed nervously, the dry lump in his throat choking him. Something was deeply, terrifyingly wrong.
The patriarch slowly opened his withered lips. "Theo"
"Why are we wasting precious breath on this trash?!"
A sharp, shrill voice sliced through the heavy silence.
The crowd parted as a middle-aged woman stepped forward with aggressive strides. It was Theo’s eldest aunt. She had spent a fortune trying to cling to her fading youth, her face caked in suffocating layers of expensive foundation that failed to hide the deep wrinkles around her eyes and the angry red blemishes on her cheeks. Her lips, painted in a gaudy, blood-red lipstick, curled into a sneer of absolute disgust.
"What are you still doing here, leech?" she spat, her tone dripping with venom.
Without warning, she grabbed a battered cardboard box resting by the grand entrance. Theo’s eyes widened as recognition struck him like a physical blow.
With a vicious flick of her wrists, she dumped its contents onto the gravel.
Worn clothes, cherished books, shoes, and personal keepsakes tumbled through the air, scattering carelessly across the courtyard ground.
Theo froze, his breath catching in his chest. Those were his belongings every tangible memory of his existence, stripped and thrown into the dirt.
"These are your pathetic little rags," his aunt sneered, her voice echoing off the villa walls for every servant and relative to hear. "Take your garbage and get out!"
A framed family photograph skittered across the pavement, coming to a rest right at Theo’s feet. The glass shattered into a hundred glinting shards.
Theo’s gaze fell onto the broken frame. The picture showed a younger, radiant version of himself standing between his mother and father. All three were laughing, bathed in golden sunlight—happy, whole, and untouchable. A agonizing, searing pain pierced his heart, as if the broken glass had lodged itself directly into his chest.
Yet, he remained dead silent. His knuckles turned stark white as his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"Are you deaf, boy?" his aunt barked, pointing a manicured finger toward the open gate. "Do you honestly think this estate belongs to a nobody like you?"
Low, malicious whispers rippled through the gathering of relatives.
"Look at him, still acting like he’s royalty."
"What a pathetic embarrassment."
"He should have crawled away the moment his parents were buried."
"He honestly thought he was one of us."
The brutal insults rained down on him, each word designed to humiliate and demean. But Theo stood like a statue, his hollow eyes fixed solely on the shattered photograph of his dead parents.
"Are you deaf, you little bastard?!" his aunt screamed, stepping closer, her heavy perfume choking the air.
Still, Theo said nothing.
"Enough," the patriarch commanded, raising a single, jewel-encrusted hand.
The courtyard instantly plunged back into a fragile, oppressive silence. The aunt reluctantly stepped back, though her mocking smile remained intact.
The head of the Carter family looked down at Theo. His aged, clouded eyes held no warmth, no affection, and no remorse.
"Theo."
For the first time since entering the gates, Theo lifted his heavy gaze to meet his grandfather's eyes.
The old man let out a cold, detached sigh, preparing to deliver the final strike that would obliterate the only identity Theo had ever known. "Your father was never a blood member of the Carter Family."
The revelation hung in the air, dropping the temperature of the courtyard to absolute zero.
Theo’s body stiffened violently. "What...?"
"Decades ago, I took pity on an orphan and adopted him," the patriarch declared smoothly, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "He did not carry a single drop of Carter blood. Out of pure charity, I raised him. Out of gratitude, he took my name. But blood is absolute."
The old man stepped closer, his golden cane clicking against the stone. "He was never truly one of us. And now that he is dead..." He paused, his gaze cutting into Theo like a blade. "...your thin, fake connection to this noble family has ceased to exist."
Total silence ensued, Theo felt as though the oxygen had been vacuumed out of his lungs. His brain went completely blank. Every relative around him maintained an eerie, knowing composure they had known all along. He was the only fool kept in the dark, raised on a lie, believing he had a family.
"Now," the old man said coldly, pointing his cane toward the gates. "You are stripped of the Carter name. You will take your rags and leave my sight forever."
"You heard the head of the house!" his aunt chimed in, cackling with delight at his humiliation. "You’re nothing but a nameless stray! Get out!"
"Scram, stray dog!" a younger cousin jeered from the back, prompting a chorus of harsh, arrogant laughter from the crowd. "Go find a dumpster!"
The brutal cruelty of his own kin pierced through Theo like a thousand icy knives. Yet, as the laughter swelled around him, the intense pain inside him began to numb. The rage burned out, replaced by an crushing, all-consuming exhaustion.
He didn't yell. He didn't cry. He simply stood there, utterly defeated.
"I gave you an order, boy," the patriarch barked, his patience evaporating. "Security!"
Two imposing, muscular guards instantly stepped forward from the shadows of the estate. For a fraction of a second, the guards hesitated they had watched Theo grow up from a young boy. But under the dark scowl of the patriarch, they had no choice.
One guard roughly seized Theo’s arm, pulling him backward, while the other callously scooped up the fallen cardboard box, tossing the broken, ruined family photo inside.
Theo offered no resistance. He let them drag his limping frame across the gravel. His parents were dead. His home was a lie. His name was stolen. There was nothing left in this gilded hell worth fighting for.
The heavy iron gates slammed shut behind him with a deafening, metallic clang, locking out the cruel laughter of the Carters and severing the final thread of his past.
The evening sky bled into shades of deep violet and twilight gray.
Theo stood alone on the deserted roadside, the cold wind whipping through his thin shirt. Beside his bandaged, bleeding foot rested the pathetic cardboard box holding the ruined scraps of his former life. The bitter wind stung his face, but he felt hollow, as if his soul had already left his body.
After several long minutes, he numbly raised a hand to signal a yellow taxi cruising down the street. The vehicle pulled over, its tires screeching softly against the asphalt. The driver rolled down the window, taking in Theo’s bandaged foot and battered box with a weary glance.
"Where to, kid?"
Theo reached for the door handle, ready to vanish into the night. But before his fingers could grasp the cold metal, a sudden, soft fragrance filled the air a delicate, intoxicating blend of expensive vanilla and fresh jasmine.
A pair of impossibly smooth, long, and slender legs stepped into his line of sight, blocking his path. The hem of a stylish, pleated short skirt swayed enticingly in the evening breeze, revealing flawless, porcelain skin that seemed to glow in the dim streetlights.
Theo froze, his hand trembling on the door handle. Slowly, excruciatingly, he tilted his head up.
Standing inches away from him was a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. Her long, silky black hair cascaded over her delicate shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her sharp, breathtakingly exquisite facial features were framed by the soft ambient light of the city lush, pink lips, a delicate nose, and striking, almond-shaped eyes.
It was a face he knew better than his own. A face that had haunted his sweetest dreams and warmed his coldest nights.
It was Elena his girlfriend. The woman he loved more than life itself.
Theo stared at her in absolute shock, his heart violently hammering against his ribs, momentarily overriding the soul-crushing numbness inside him.
For several agonizing seconds, neither of them spoke. The cool wind swirled around them, rustling the hem of her short skirt and blowing strands of her dark hair across her flawless face. Her expression was completely unreadable devoid of the tender warmth, soft blushes, and playful smiles she used to give him whenever they were together.
Theo’s chest heaved as he tried to process her sudden appearance in his absolute darkest hour. A fragile glimmer of hope sparked within his shattered heart. Did she come to save him? Did she hear about his parents?
Forcing his trembling lips into a weak, exhausted smile, Theo looked deeply into her beautiful, icy eyes and rasped the only question his broken voice could manage:
"Elena... what are you doing here?"
The stunning girl looked down at his bandaged foot, then at the trash box beside him, her gorgeous eyes sparkling with a dark, mysterious intent.
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