Chapter 1: The Gala of Masks

Three Months Later

I didn’t belong here.

The glittering chandeliers, the clinking of crystal glasses, the hum of polished conversations—it all felt like a cruel joke. Sophie swore this gala would “pull me out of my funk,” but I knew better. This wasn’t about distracting me. This was about proving I was fine.

Which, for the record, I wasn’t.

Damian and I had been together for five years. Five. And in the blink of an eye—or rather, over the course of one cold, heartless conversation—he was gone. No warning, no closure. Just, gone. And then silence.

It had been three months, and I was still choking on the ashes of what we’d built. Sophie hated seeing me like this, I got it. But dragging me here—where he could show up, where his world overlapped with hers and, by extension, mine—felt like punishment, not therapy.

“Will you stop fidgeting?” Sophie hissed as she tugged me through the entrance hall.

“I’m not fidgeting,” I snapped, pulling at the sleek black mask digging into my temples.

“Yes, you are. You’re acting like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Because I would rather be anywhere else.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and handed me a glass of champagne. “Damian isn’t the center of the universe, you know. You look amazing. You’ll have fun if you let yourself.”

She disappeared into the crowd before I could argue mingling with someone who looked like a walking bank statement. Of course, I didn’t look amazing. The silky navy gown was borrowed from Sophie, the heels pinched, and the mask—I swear it was slowly fusing with my skull.

I drifted toward the edges of the room, avoiding swirling dancers. My fingers gripped the champagne flute like it was the only thing holding me to Earth. Sophie was wrong. Damian was my universe, or at least he had been. And now I was floating aimlessly, unsure of who I was without him.

The first sign of disaster was subtle—just a flash of red satin out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t even look at first. There were plenty of women in bold, dramatic gowns. But then the familiar angle of his jaw caught my attention, and my chest tightened.

He wasn’t wearing a mask—of course not. His confidence didn’t need a disguise. And his hand, so casually draped around the waist of Vanessa in a backless scarlet gown, might as well have been a blade sliding between my ribs.

I froze, panic rising in my throat. It wasn’t until I stepped back that I realized someone was standing right behind me.

The collision was embarrassing—champagne sloshing, my heel catching awkwardly on the hem of my dress.

“Really?” I snapped, stepping back. “You couldn’t stand somewhere else?”

One of his eyebrows arched, his expression amused. “I’ll try harder next time.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his voice—low and smooth, with a hint of something. Annoyance? Amusement? Either way, I wasn’t about to apologize.

“Well,” I said, brushing off my dress, “maybe you should.

“Maybe watch where you’re going.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His lips curved into a half-smile that was infuriatingly calm. “Let me make it up to you. A drink?”

“No thanks.” I glanced around for Sophie, but she was busy charming a crowd. Great.

My eyes were pulled back to Damian like a magnet. His hand slid up the woman’s back as he whispered something in her ear, making her laugh. My stomach churned.

“Or perhaps a dance,” the stranger said, his voice pulling me back.

My first instinct was to decline, but something about the way Damian turned, scanning the room made me reconsider. If he saw me sulking in the corner, it would only prove what I already feared—that I was pathetic without him.

“Fine,” I said, slipping my hand into the stranger’s.

He led me onto the dance floor, his grip firm but respectful. “You didn’t look like you wanted to be here,” he said, spinning me effortlessly into the crowd.

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “But here I am.”

“And now I’m curious why.”

Before I could answer, the music shifted. A spotlight clicked on, illuminating the center of the floor. I turned just in time to see Damian step into the light, holding the hand of the Vanessa.

The crowd hushed, a ripple of anticipation washing over the room. My heart started pounding, and my chest tightened with dread.

No. He wouldn’t.

He did.

“Everyone,” Damian’s voice rang out. “Before the event continues, I have something to say.”

His date turned to him, eyes glistening, and I knew exactly what was coming.

He dropped to one knee.

I barely registered the words. Something about love. Forever. She gasped, said yes, and the room erupted in applause. Damian stood, pulling her close, and kissed her in front of everyone—in front of me.

The air left my lungs. The clapping and cheering felt like static, muffled and distant.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, his voice close to my ear.

I couldn’t answer. My throat felt tight, my cheeks burning with humiliation. Everyone had seen that.

“I need to go,” I said, my voice barely audible. I pulled away, my legs trembling as I stumbled off the dance floor, out of the crowd.

I didn’t look back.