CHAPTER 4: MURDER IN MASCARA
1254 Words
CHAPTER 4: MURDER IN MASCARA
MIRIAM’S POV
The chandeliers didn’t impress me.
Neither did the golden columns, the marble floors, or the women dripping in diamonds like blood.
I’d seen opulence before. I’d worn it like a second skin.
But this?
This was theatre.
And I was the main act.
The invitation had arrived less than 48 hours ago. Embossed in black and gold, sealed with the snake insignia of Diamante Hidalgo.
I remembered the way Damon read it—leaning back in that leather chair, drink in hand, and a smile like sin carved across his face.
“A party,” he murmured. “How poetic.”
He tossed the invite on the table and looked at me.
“No better way to kill a man than in front of his friends.”
I was almost scared by the way he said it.
“You’ll be my plus one.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Good. I want to witness it myself,” I straightened my chin.
So here I was. Dressed for vengeance... in the same red that ruined my life.
A waiter passed and I took a glass of champagne. But didn’t drink it. Just needed something to do with my hands.
Somewhere in this room was the man who stole my life.
Diamante Hidalgo.
I hadn’t seen him yet. But I would.
And when I did?
I would smile.
I raised my glass slightly, pretending to sip as my eyes scanned the room. Damon was somewhere near the back, already neck-deep in fake smiles and power trades.
I didn’t need him right now.
I needed control.
And I had it—until a hand slid around my waist.
It wasn't gentle...but in a way that set my skin on fire.
Before I could react, lips brushed against my neck.
“Miss me, baby?” a voice whispered.
I turned sharply.
He was taller than me by a few inches, dark-haired, smug mouth faltering the second our eyes met.
I stepped back, shoving his arm off.
“What the hell?”
He blinked. I could feel his confidence crumbling to dust.
“Wait…I thought…I thought you were…”
“What? Someone who wanted to be groped by a stranger in public?” I cut in.
His brows drew together. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Oh, so that makes it fine? Here’s a tip: next time you feel the urge to act like a complete pervert, check the woman’s face before kissing her neck,” I fired ice-cold.
“Alright, chill,” he raised his hands in surrender.
“I will not chill. If I ever see you again I’ll have you arrested,” I hissed.
His lips parted like he was going to say something, but I was already walking away.
And it was at that moment I saw him, Diamante Hidalgo in the flesh.
DAMON’S POV
She walked in wearing revenge like a second skin.
Red backless silk, with a slit so high it looked like a threat.
And she didn’t flinch—not once.
Miriam Von Ryan.
The girl had guts—I’ll give her that.
Most people come to me crawling. She came dressed like a funeral and asked for a kill.
Not just any kill.
Diamante Hidalgo.
It almost made me laugh. She didn’t know what she was asking. Or maybe she did.
Either way, I liked it.
That fire in her eyes? That wasn’t desperation. That was vengeance. The kind that doesn’t beg but waits.
And that? That was what made me say yes.
Not because I do favors.
Not because she offered money.
But because watching a spoiled little princess play assassin? Now that’s entertainment.
---
I saw her from the mezzanine.
She didn’t notice me. But I noticed her.
The way she moved, the way she held herself…even her eye contact spoke louder than anything she could’ve said.
And then—some punk. Pretty boy with coffee brown hair, slid his hand around her waist.
Idiot. For a second, I actually thought he might’ve been her boyfriend.
He leaned in, said something smug. Probably thought he was cute.
She turned so fast I could taste the slap in her words from up here.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Oof.
The guy froze like she’d just ripped his spine out. And then?
She walked away. Just like that.
Didn’t even give him the dignity of a second glance.
And that?
That made me smile.
My phone buzzed after.
I didn’t even have to check the name, I just picked up.
“I’m in position.”
I swirled the drink in my glass, slowly, watching her disappear into the crowd.
“Good. Keep your eyes on the crown…Because tonight…it falls.”
My eyes flicked to the effeminate mafia kings—gossiping as always.
I wondered what had them whispering tonight.
Whatever it was, I didn’t really care to know… all I knew was that this was going to be their last party together.
“I heard Mr. Rodriguez just got married a few weeks ago,” Enzo said, as he adjusted the neckline of his cape. His sharp gaze followed the so-called Mr Rodriguez.
“Yes, married. But only after his new bride caught him with her younger brother on their matrimonial bed,” Diamante said, leaning closer as Enzo gasped.
“They say Lucas is actually prettier than Laura,” Enzo added casually as he toyed with the bracelet on his wrist.
“If he loves her brother so much, why not marry him instead?” Diamante chuckled.
“No. His family is against the l***q society.”
“Oh, what a drag,” Diamante smiled faintly and leaned back in his chair. His eyes drifted to Rodriguez. He stood near the edge of the room, deep in conversation with a young male steward.
“Perhaps another prey."
They shared a look before breaking into a quiet, devilish laughter.
Just then, Mont’dor, Diamante's head butler, appeared.
" Duchess, the bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild you ordered," Mont'dor said, with the bottle in a tray and an almost filled glass of the wine.
Diamante took a slow sip of the wine.
Enzo said something after, but before Diamante could respond, a cough escaped his lips—a small one at first. But as the seconds passed, it grew louder, more persistent, until it was a violent, rasping sound. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on him.
He coughed again—this time, blood spilled from his lips.
The room erupted in chaos.
Diamante’s vision blurred, as he could feel his heart slowing. Time seemed to stretch in strange ways, like his life was flashing before his eyes. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a ragged cough. The pain in his chest was unbearable, and every breath was a struggle. The commotion, all of it felt distant now, as if he were sinking into a dark abyss.
The last thing he heard was the distant sound of a siren. Then, everything turned black.
MIRIAM'S POV
I slipped out during the chaos and screams of people behind me, running like headless chickens.
My phone buzzed.
“It’s done.”
I stared at the screen.
This was the part where I was supposed to smile. Celebrate. Pop invisible champagne.
But my chest felt tight.
I swallowed hard.
How the hell was I supposed to pay a hundred thousand freaking dollars before the end of the month?
- Writer
