Chapter 1: The Woman Behind the Mask
Brielle carefully lifted the gown's enormous butterfly wing, admiring how the translucent material caught the chandelier light.
“Mother, imagine the photographs,” she said.
“Everyone will think I had this custom-made in Paris.””
Vanessa laughed.
“Let them think whatever they like. You deserve to look extraordinary.””
I stood beside the shattered perfume bottle, one hand pressed against my aching hip.
Neither woman noticed that I had stopped looking at the dress.
I was looking at the small silver clasp attached to the back of its bodice.
It was engraved with three words.
*Property of Asteria.*
The clasp wasn't decorative. It was part of the authentication system I had designed for every original costume commissioned for the Midnight Masquerade.
Each piece had a unique identification number, a registered designer, and a digital ownership certificate.
The gown was worth more than the mansion's entire collection of antique furniture.
But that wasn't what made it valuable.
It was the centerpiece of an opening performance that had been kept secret for almost a year.
And Brielle was about to walk away with it.
“Camille?”” Vanessa snapped.
I looked up.
“What?””
“I said, go downstairs. We have guests arriving in twenty minutes, and I don't want you wandering around looking miserable.””
Brielle giggled.
“Maybe she can help me carry the train.””
I looked at her.
“Be careful with the wings. They're made from hand-treated silk organza. Pull too hard, and they'll tear.””
Brielle rolled her eyes.
“Please. It's a dress, not a priceless museum artifact.””
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“Actually,” I said, “it's considerably more expensive than that.””
Vanessa's face hardened.
“Enough.””
She stepped toward me, lowering her voice.
“You've been allowed to stay in this house because your father wanted you protected. Don't mistake that kindness for authority.””
I glanced toward the portrait above the fireplace.
My father, Daniel Bennett, stood in it wearing his favorite navy suit, one hand resting on my shoulder.
He had been dead for three years.
Three years since Vanessa had taken over the household.
Three years since Brielle had started treating every possession of mine as something she could claim.
Three years since I had learned that sometimes the easiest way to survive a family was to let them underestimate you.
“I understand,” I said.
Vanessa seemed satisfied.
“Good.””
She turned toward Brielle.
“Let's go. I want to call the alterations department before they close.””
Brielle gathered the skirt into her arms.
Then she paused.
“Actually, Camille, you're going to help me get into this thing.””
“No.””
Her smile disappeared.
“What?””
“I said no.””
Vanessa slowly turned around.
“Camille, I am warning you.””
I reached for my phone.
“I'm calling someone.””
Brielle laughed.
“Who? Your imaginary fashion friends?””
I didn't answer.
I opened a contact saved under a single letter.
*M.*
The call connected almost immediately.
“Good evening, Ms. Bennett,” a familiar male voice answered.
“Good evening, Marcus.””
“Is everything ready for tomorrow's final rehearsal?””
“Almost. I have a small problem with one of the costumes.””
There was a pause.
“What happened?””
I looked at Brielle.
“She has been removed from its original location without authorization.””
Another pause.
“Who has it?””
“My stepsister.””
“Does she understand what she's holding?””
“Apparently not.””
Vanessa snatched the phone from my hand.
“Who is this?””
I watched her face change.
“Excuse me?”” she said sharply.
“This is a private family matter. Camille is being dramatic. Whatever she's told you, she doesn't have permission to interfere with my daughter.””
Marcus said something I couldn't hear.
Vanessa's expression tightened.
“You're threatening us?””
She ended the call and threw my phone onto the dressing table.
“That's enough. You will not embarrass this family with your little games.””
I picked up my phone.
“Marcus doesn't make empty threats.””
Brielle stepped closer.
“Who is Marcus?””
“The person responsible for making sure the gala happens.””
She laughed.
“Then tell him I said hello.””
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
“I will.””
Vanessa grabbed Brielle's arm.
“Come on. We have better things to do.””
They left with the gown.
I listened to their footsteps disappear down the marble staircase.
Then I looked at the shattered perfume bottle.
My father had given me that perfume on my twenty-first birthday.
He had told me it smelled like the ocean after a storm.
I crouched to pick up the larger pieces, but a sharp fragment cut my finger.
A tiny bead of blood appeared.
I stared at it.
Then I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I had finally understood something.
I had spent three years trying to preserve a family that had never considered preserving me.
And tomorrow night, the entire world would discover who I really was.
At eight o'clock, I entered the small office above the estate's detached garage.
It was the only room Vanessa had never bothered to renovate.
The walls were covered in sketches, photographs, fabric samples, and architectural plans.
Three large monitors displayed the final production schedule for the Midnight Masquerade.
I removed my shoes and sat behind the desk.
A video call appeared.
Marcus Reed, the gala's executive producer, looked directly into the camera.
“Camille, please tell me you didn't let them leave with the gown.””
“They left with it.””
He closed his eyes.
“Of course they did.””
“I'm sorry.””
“Don't apologize. You're the creative director. You don't need to apologize for someone else's theft.””
I leaned back.
“What are our options?””
“First, we freeze the costume's authentication certificate. Second, we document the unauthorized possession. Third, we prepare the backup design.””
I frowned.
“There is no backup design.””
Marcus stared at me.
“Camille.””
“I spent eleven months creating that gown. The opening performance was designed around it.””
“I know.””
“Then you understand.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“There's something else.””
“What?””
“The Harrington family has been calling again.””
I went still.
“About sponsorship?””
“More specifically, about Brielle Bennett's invitation.””
I looked at the screen.
“Why?””
“Apparently, Vanessa has been telling everyone her daughter is being considered for a special position in the opening ceremony.””
I almost dropped my pen.
“What position?””
“Fairy queen.””
For several seconds, I said nothing.
Then I laughed.
It was a quiet, disbelieving sound.
Marcus didn't laugh with me.
“Camille, they're using your name.””
“My name?””
“Not your legal name. Asteria. Vanessa apparently told the Harringtons that Brielle has been personally selected by Asteria.””
I looked at the costume sketches pinned to the wall.
“That's interesting.””
“Interesting?””
“Because I haven't selected anyone.””
Marcus leaned closer.
“Do you want me to withdraw their invitations?””
I considered it.
Then I shook my head.
“No.””
“Camille, they're stealing your work.””
“I know.””
“They're lying to the sponsors.””
“I know that too.””
“Then what exactly are you planning?””
I opened a folder on my computer.
Inside were the original costume registration documents, photographs from every fitting, payment records, and the complete ownership certificate.
“I want them to arrive tomorrow.””
Marcus stared at me.
“Why?””
“Because they seem very excited about meeting Asteria.””
I smiled faintly.
“I think it's time we gave them what they want.””
Marcus slowly nodded.
“Understood.””
Before ending the call, he added one more thing.
“Camille?””
“Yes?””
“Your father's foundation confirmed its attendance this morning.””
I stopped moving.
“My father's foundation?””
“Bennett Children's Foundation. They're sponsoring the hospital wing this year. Your father's name will be announced during the opening ceremony.””
I looked at the framed photograph beside my desk.
My father was smiling.
For the first time that evening, my throat tightened.
“Thank you, Marcus.””
After the call ended, I opened another document.
It was an old letter my father had written to me shortly before his death.
There was one sentence I had read hundreds of times.
Never let anyone convince you that being quiet means being powerless.
I touched the paper.
Then I closed the folder.
Tomorrow night, I wouldn't be the quiet girl in the mansion.
Tomorrow night, I would be Asteria.
And the first person I planned to confront was the woman wearing my wings.
At 10:43 p.m., my phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent me a photograph.
Brielle stood in front of the mansion's ballroom mirror, wearing my ice-blue gown.
Her arms were raised.
The butterfly wings spread behind her.
Below the photograph was a message.
Guess who's going to be the star of the Halloween gala?
A second message followed.
Try not to cry when you see me on television.
I stared at the screen.
Then another notification appeared.
This time, it was from Marcus.
*URGENT: Camille, the gala's guest list has just been changed. Vanessa Bennett has requested a private meeting with Asteria tomorrow.*
I typed one sentence.
Confirm the meeting.
Then I added:
Give them the exact time.
A moment later, Marcus replied.
*What time should I tell them?*
I glanced at the clock.
“Seven o'clock,” I whispered.
May you like
The gala began at eight.
And at seven, my family would finally meet the woman they had been stealing from for three years.
