"Say the truth, Damien."
Celeste stood in his office doorway, her hand tight on the folded note. Her voice was low but sharp. Her chest burned.
Damien turned from his desk. His gold mask from the masquerade was gone, but the same guarded look stayed on his face.
"Celeste," he said carefully, "where did you get that note?"
"Someone at the masquerade gave it to me." She stepped closer. "This note says you know something about what happened the night of the fire."
He tightened his jaw. He didn’t move.
"Tell me everything," she pressed.
Damien locked the door behind her. The sound made her heart skip.
"You really want the whole truth?" he asked.
"Every bit of it."
He inhaled slowly and sat on the edge of his desk, facing her. "That night was not what you believed it to be."
Her thro
