Mr. Anderson had arranged various activities for Mr. Masse and his daughter, including a polo match and an evening banquet.
The banquet was a Victorian-style masquerade ball. Exquisite chandeliers hung from the ceiling, with hidden light sources nestled among flowers and decorations, illuminating the entire hall as if it were daylight.
I had barely stepped into the hall when Cyrus approached, pretending to play the role of a concerned brother, but the coldness in his gaze betrayed his true intentions.
"It might end quite late tonight. If you feel tired, head back early. Someone is waiting for you at home," he said with apparent concern, though his tone was chilling. "My dear sister."
He clearly knew that I had the key to the basement.
How amusing. He should be begging me now, not usin
