The Party
1691 Words
The driver pulled into the parking lot of Jones' mansion.
"Excuse us for a moment," Anton told the driver, who nodded before stepping out.
He turned to face Mia, his expression slightly hesitant.
"I don't know how to say this, but I have to hold your hand. I mean… it would be strange if I didn’t, right? You’re my date, after all."
Mia looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. Whose hand was he talking about? Definitely not hers.
"Look, I understand this might be breaking your principles, but it's just for tonight."
Before she could protest, he added, "Please, Nat."
There it was again—his annoying ability to make her agree to things she normally wouldn’t.
She let out a quiet sigh. "Fine."
"Thank you." He smiled, looking genuinely pleased.
They stepped out of the car and Anton offered his hand. Reluctantly, Mia slid her palm into his, feeling a rush of irritation spread through her body. He covered her hand with his, and they walked forward, their masks in their free hands.
Anton had picked out their masks earlier at the boutique—a simple black one for himself and a feathery black mask for Mia, which covered the area from her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose.
Luckily, it was a private party so there were no reporters hanging around.
As they entered the venue, all eyes turned to them. Mia immediately felt uncomfortable. The lustful gazes some men directed at her made her skin crawl. It took all of her self-control not to march over and give them a well-deserved beating.
Anton, on the other hand, clenched his jaw. He was irritated by the way men were eyeing her. How could they look at her like that when she was standing right beside him? He forced himself to remain composed, pretending not to notice.
Then again, he couldn’t blame them entirely—he had also been stunned when she walked out of the beauty salon earlier.
On their way to the party, he had stopped at Miss Glamour, a high-end salon. Mia had been confused at first, but once Anton explained, she spent a long time resisting. It had taken a lot of convincing before she finally agreed to get her hair and makeup done.
She had insisted on only light makeup—and by "light," she meant practically light.
In the end, they applied only a light layer of powder, some mascara, neatly carved her eyebrows, and added black lipstick, as per her request. Her hair, which was usually tied up, was straightened, combed, and the right side pinned with elegant silver hair clips.
When she stepped out, Anton had been at a loss for words.
"Wow… Nat, you look beautiful," he had said.
She had been tempted to reply, 'I know, it’s a fact', but instead, she simply said, "Thank you."
Now, sitting in their designated seats, Anton felt a touch of pride. He was the one with this stunning woman that everyone was staring at.
People frequently approached their table—some to greet Anton in hopes of discussing business, others simply to introduce themselves.
Mia hated the attention.
Then, Mr. Jones himself strutted over, beaming.
"CEO Hugh! I’m so glad you made it," he said, shaking Anton’s hand.
"The pleasure is all mine. And happy birthday," Anton replied politely, with an insincere smile.
"Thank you, that means a lot to me."
Mr. Jones turned to Mia with a charming smile. "Hello, Miss. You look absolutely stunning."
"Thank you," she said, shaking his outstretched hand. After much hesitation.
He turned back to Anton. "I never knew such a beautiful lady existed. You, my friend, are lucky."
Mia inwardly cringed. She hated being spoken about as if she were a prize or property.
"Can I have a dance?" Jones asked.
"No," she said bluntly.
"Harsh, but okay," he chuckled. "If you change your mind, I’ll be at the dance floor." He winked before walking away.
Anton was irritated.
The next person to approach them was Jones’ son. He was tall, blond, and blue-eyed. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Anton excused himself to take a call.
Mia adjusted her mask as Jones’ son, Dave, sat beside her.
"Hello, miss."
"Hi, mister," she replied, making him chuckle.
"I just have to say—you are so beautiful."
Again, she was tempted to say 'I know', but she simply nodded.
"Can I have a dance?"
"No, thank you."
"Oh, come on, please?"
"I’m sorry, but I can’t. Actually, I can’t dance."
"I can teach you."
"Teach what?" Anton’s voice cut in as he returned.
Dave turned to him. "Oh, you’re back. I offered to teach her how to dance since she said she couldn’t."
Anton looked at Mia. "Nat, do you want to dance with him?"
"No."
A wave of relief washed over Anton’s face. He had been afraid she would say yes—after all, she had rejected his earlier offer to dance.
"Alright then. See you later," Dave said with a wry smile before walking away.
Mia and Anton sat quietly, watching the entertainment.
Mia found it boring.
The party had already gone through all the usual motions—cutting the cake, giving Jones expensive gifts, and a round of dancing. Now, performers were putting on a show, but even that couldn’t keep her attention.
All this money, and you can’t even throw a fun party?
She wondered if all rich people’s parties were always this dull.
Leaning slightly toward Anton, she whispered, "I need to use the restroom."
"Okay, but come back quickly," he said with a small smile.
Something about his smile made Mia’s heart jolt.
She quickly pushed the feeling away.
Whatever.
She made her way toward the guest restroom, following the directions a waiter had given her. Just as she turned a corner, she heard low, hushed voices coming from a nearby room.
She slowed her steps.
The door was made of polished wood, with a small, rough-glass design at the top. Carefully, she peeked through it.
Inside, three men were talking.
Mia’s eyes narrowed as her curiosity heightened.
What were they talking about?
"The imposter is already on standby, we are just waiting for the right timing," one of them said.
"Tell Tony and Boas to take their positions on the desert road. We can’t get this messed up."
An unsettling feeling crept over her.
"Mr. Jones promised a big reward if we could get Mr. Hugh, so stay focused." the apparent leader instructed.
Mia’s breath hitched.
Mr. Hugh?
Was there another Mr. Hugh at the party?
Were they talking about Anton?
The realization hit her hard.
The imposter, the timing, the desert road—the entire plan was about him.
"We will, Boss," the other two men responded.
A phone dinged.
"It’s go time," the leader said, and the three men pulled down their masks, blending into the party.
Mia tiptoed quickly to the guest restroom, which was just around the corner. She held her breath as she watched them disappear down the hall.
There was no time to process the shock of what she had just heard. She had to warn Anton.
The men had said it was go time, which meant whatever they had planned was about to happen. And he was alone.
She hurried back to the party hall, careful not to run.
She didn’t know why she was this concerned about someone she had vowed to kill, but she didn’t have time to think about it.
Anton was still sitting where she had left him. Relief washed over her.
She walked over and sat down, glancing at him.
He gave her a small smile. She nodded in response, but something about his smile felt... off.
Her eyes scanned the crowd for the men she had seen in the room, but they were nowhere in sight.
Then she felt an arm wrap around her waist.
Her entire body tensed, and she immediately moved away.
Anton gave her a confused smile and inched closer to her.
Her stomach churned.
Something was wrong.
Anton would never touch her so boldly, especially knowing how much she despised it.
Was he drunk? No, that wasn’t possible. He had been sipping the same glass of wine since they arrived.
Then she saw it.
A small birthmark near his ear.
Her eyes widened.
Anton didn’t have a birthmark.
Realization dawned on her.
He’s not Anton.
She was too late.
Hiding her shock, Mia stood up gracefully, masking her expression.
"Let me go touch up my makeup," she whispered.
He nodded.
It all made sense now. He hadn’t asked how she was or if everything was okay, which he normally did almost every ten minutes. He hadn’t tried to chat. He had barely spoken at all.
He wasn’t Anton.
She picked up her black purse and walked toward the restroom. But the moment she was out of his line of sight, she switched direction and headed for the exit.
She quickly dialed Luther’s number as she stepped outside.
"Hey, Mia!" he answered, cheerful as always.
"I need you to track a location for me."
"Is something wrong?"
"I’ll send you the number right now. I need the location ASAP."
"Got it, but—"
She ended the call.
The entrance was strangely empty. There were no security guards stationed outside.
They must be in on it too.
She remembered the men mentioning the desert road, but it could be a code name for a hideout. She pulled out her phone to use GPS, but before she could, a message from Luther popped up.
He’s moving, so I can’t get a precise location, but he’s heading toward Desert Road.
Attached was a screenshot of the location.
It wasn’t far.
Mia scanned her surroundings and spotted a security guard parking his motorbike.
Adjusting her mask, she smirked and strode toward him.
"Hello, ma’am. Why are you out here? It’s cold."
"Yes, I actually wanted to—"
Before he could react, she struck, delivering a swift chop to his neck.
He fell off instantly.
Mia hopped onto the motorbike and sped off.
- Writer
