Mask of Desires

Chapter 1

"Ariella Kane adjusted the delicate lace of the wedding dress for the last time, her fingers trembling ever so slightly beneath the pristine white fabric. The mirror reflected a flawless image — a radiant bride, soft curls cascading over slender shoulders, lips curved in a gentle smile. But beneath that mask, she was no innocent woman. She was an assassin.

The mask. The cold, synthetic skin that clung to her face like a second layer. It replicated the exact features of Elena Cruz — Victor’s real fiancée — down to the faint scar above her left eyebrow. It was a perfect forgery, designed to fool even the most intimate eyes.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Ten minutes, Ariella,” came the voice of her handler through the earpiece. “Remember, get close. Learn everything. We can’t afford mistakes.”

She swallowed hard. Ten minutes until the ceremony. Ten minutes to step into a world she had no right to be part of. The sterile glow of the safehouse briefing room hummed softly as Ariella sat across from Mara, her handler—and the only person who truly knew the woman behind the mask.

Mara’s sharp eyes bore into Ariella’s, steady and unyielding. Her voice was calm but edged with urgency.

“Tomorrow is the day, Ariella. Victor Cruz’s wedding. Your window to get inside is narrow, but once you do, everything changes.”

Ariella’s fingers brushed the edge of the white gown folded on the table—the same gown she would wear to seamlessly blend into Victor’s world. Beneath it, her sleek black suit waited silently, her armor beneath the illusion.

“This mission isn’t just about getting close for a night,” Mara continued. “Your priority is to get close enough to uncover Victor’s secrets—his plans, his allies, his vulnerabilities. You’ll have to slowly infiltrate his organization, piece by piece. We need the full picture.”

Mara slid a small case across the table, revealing the hyper-realistic mask—Elena Cruz’s face recreated with astonishing precision.

“Remember, this mask isn’t just for appearances. It’s equipped with micro-cameras and a comm link. You’ll have eyes everywhere—but no one else can hear us unless you choose to let them.”

Ariella nodded, her mind already racing through every detail. “What about the sedative?”

“Essential,” Mara said firmly. “Victor’s unpredictable. He’s dangerous when awake and suspicious when tired. The syringe is your fail-safe. After your nightly encounters, you use it to keep him asleep. No slip-ups.”

Ariella’s jaw tightened. “And if I can’t?”

Mara’s eyes darkened. “Then we lose everything. You lose everything.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Mara softened, almost reluctantly. “You’re the best we have. But remember—no matter how close you get, you’re not the woman he thinks you are. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

Ariella stood, carefully slipping the mask into its secure case. The weight of the mission pressed down like a stone in her chest, but beneath it flickered something unexpected—something she hadn’t yet faced.

“Tomorrow,” Mara said, nodding with finality. “You become Elena Cruz. And you bring Victor Cruz down.” The quiet of the dressing room was broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the steady rhythm of Ariella’s breath. She sat before the ornate mirror, the white gown spread carefully around her like a fragile shell. Her fingers trembled slightly as she touched the delicate lace, a stark contrast to the steel-hard resolve beneath her skin.

The mask lay on the vanity, waiting — cold and unforgiving. In another life, it might have been a promise of a new beginning. Now, it was her prison.

Ariella reached for it, her pulse quickening. Sliding the mask slowly over her face, she felt the familiar chill of synthetic skin meld to her own. The transformation was complete. She was no longer Ariella Kane. She was Elena Cruz.

Her reflection stared back — flawless, serene, beautiful. But behind those eyes was a storm of doubt and determination.

Her hand brushed over the small syringe tucked inside the lining of her dress — her only safeguard. She had to remind herself why she was here: revenge for her brother, justice for the lives Victor had shattered, and the hope that one day, this nightmare would end.

A knock at the door jolted her back to the present.

“Five minutes,” Mara’s voice came crisp through the earpiece.

Ariella took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’m ready.”

As she rose, the soft chime of her wedding bracelet echoed faintly — a cruel reminder of the role she must play. The bride. The killer.

With one last glance in the mirror, she whispered, “This is for you, brother.”

Then, with grace and purpose, she stepped toward the door and into a world where nothing was as it seemed. The chapel was quiet except for the soft hum of whispered prayers and the faint shuffle of polished shoes on marble floors. White roses lined the aisle, their fragrance mingling with the distant murmur of a string quartet tuning up. Ariella Kane’s heart beat steady but fierce beneath the sleek black tactical suit hidden beneath her flowing white gown. The mask clung cold against her skin — a flawless replica of Elena Cruz, the woman Victor loved.

The organ pipes swelled, and a hush fell over the guests as Ariella took her first step down the aisle. The weight of the mission anchored every movement, measured and precise. Eyes turned toward her — admiration, envy, and devotion in equal measure.

In the front pew, Don Emilio Reyes, Victor’s right-hand man and lifelong advisor, exchanged a knowing glance with Marcos, the enforcer who kept Victor’s enemies at bay. Both men observed the bride closely, as if sensing something beneath the surface they couldn’t yet name.

Then, his gaze locked on hers.

Victor Cruz stood tall, his broad shoulders clad in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, his dark eyes smoldering with a fire that made Ariella’s pulse quicken despite herself. There was power in that look — the power that had earned him his feared reputation in the city’s underworld.

As she reached the altar, Victor took her hand with a rough, deliberate strength. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly.

Ariella swallowed hard but met his gaze, forcing a calm smile. “Thank you.” The ceremony began. Vows were exchanged, promises whispered in voices thick with sincerity. But Ariella’s mind raced with a thousand questions.

Who was this man behind the gunman’s reputation? What secrets did he hide beneath that polished surface?

And how long could she keep the mask from slipping before it shattered everything?

As the crowd erupted into applause, Victor pulled her close for their first dance. His hand at the small of her back was warm, steady. The music swirled around them, but in that moment, all Ariella could hear was the rapid pounding of her own heart — torn between duty and a dangerous, unexpected desire.