Behind the Mask of Fortune

Chapter 1

“Elena Swift, can you please stop being such a stick in the mud? Going to this ball is not a big deal, and look around! Everyone’s wearing masks; no one knows who anyone is!” A slender woman wearing a vibrant rooster mask nudged the girl next to her, who was hiding behind a couch, her skeleton mask sitting awkwardly on her face.
Elena Swift huddled into the deep cushions, desperately trying to sink lower as if to escape the festive spectacle around her.
“Adelaide Frost, I’ve never even held a guy’s hand! How do you expect me to enjoy something like this?” The eighteen-year-old Elena was tall and striking, with features that were delicate yet unimpressed by typical beauty standards. Her friend, the vivacious Adelaide, took all the spotlight without even trying.
“Fine, if you don’t want to have fun, I’ll just go find someone else to enjoy the night with. Don’t blame me for being a terrible friend!” Adelaide raised an eyebrow, swaying away to flirt with the nearest group of handsome men.
Elena glanced around the extravagant venue teeming with wealthy people and music. Suddenly, she longed for the comfort of her home, where she could be in sweatpants with headphones on, lost in her favorite tunes.
If it weren't for that dreadful meeting with “the Demon” tomorrow, she’d never have set foot in a place like this. The thought of this wild, chaotic scene made her cringe.
Just then, a loud crash jolted her from her thoughts as a tipsy guy stumbled right into her, sending her sprawling onto the couch.
“Hey! What’s your problem? Get off me!” Elena felt furious. Surely, he could have fallen anywhere else!
“Juliet Moore, don’t leave me!” The man rolled over to face her, revealing strikingly beautiful eyes under a delicate white butterfly mask. His well-defined jaw gave the impression of elegant confidence, typical of someone attending an upscale event.
“Juliet Moore?” Elena blinked, bewildered. Did he just call her the wrong name? She hardly interacted with guys, especially not like this. And though much of his face was covered, he was undeniably attractive.
“Juliet Moore, I love you!” The stranger gripped her wrists firmly, making her pulse race in ways she never expected.
Forced back to reality, Elena finally gathered herself. With a gentle shove against his shoulder, she protested, “I don’t know you! You can’t kiss me!” Oh my God, that was her first kiss! Tears threatened to form; was she really going to give that to a stranger? Although he was calling her by a name she didn’t recognize, she was sure they had never met.
“Please don’t leave me! Just don’t go!” His warm hands cradled her chin, and he leaned in as if to lift her mask.
The scrambles of her thoughts tumbled as she panicked. Having a nearly unknown guy look so closely at her face was dizzying.
She instinctively clasped her mask tighter, refusing to let him see more than her cheeks.
“Very well then.” He chuckled softly, warmth radiating from those captivating eyes. “You’re still as shy and sweet as ever.”
Elena found herself mesmerized. His voice was exquisite, like something out of a favorite song that made her shiver with every note. She was a sucker for emotive voices, often getting lost listening to singers like Hitu or Dong Zhen. This man’s tone resonated in that same enchanting way.
But there was a blemish on her right shoulder that stood out, its significance lost on her. The man stared at it, his gaze thoughtful before he burst out laughing, “You have a mole here; I can’t believe I never noticed before.”

Chapter 2

Elena Swift felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought about the man she would meet tomorrow. Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t be wearing a dress that showed her shoulders, especially one that revealed a small beauty mark—something she was sure nobody else ever noticed. But tonight was different.
“Juliet, I’ve never made the first move with you. Tonight, could you kiss me?” The Stranger leaned in and pressed his lips against her shoulder, gently brushing the mark with his mouth, before pulling back to lock his gaze onto hers.
Elena was captivated by the intense allure in his eyes. Her heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning closer to him, her face betraying her emotions.
This was the first time she had ever initiated a kiss with a man!
“Wait! No!”
Caught in the moment, she suddenly felt an urge to escape, aware that she’d come prepared for something more intimate, but this was not the place for it. The ballroom was filled with people, and although they were tucked away in a quiet corner, the risk of being seen was too great.
“Wait? You’ve turned me down too many times; it’s made me feel like a porcupine. I can’t bear to hear another no from you!” The Stranger’s voice rasped slightly.
She paused, confused. Had she really turned him down? Growing up, she had barely interacted with boys—had she actually rejected someone and forgotten about it?
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed as The Stranger leaned in closer, his cool lips brushing against her eyes.
Once, and then again.
“What is happening?”
“I’m not Juliet!” she exclaimed, quickly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m Elena! I’m Elena!”
“Juliet, don’t bite, it hurts!” Seeing her lips part in frustration, The Stranger finally spoke, drawing closer again to deeply kiss her on the lips, igniting a flood of emotion within her, coloring her cheeks crimson.
“No—stop—”
“This night is ours, Juliet. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to marry me—”

Chapter 3

Elena Swift suddenly found herself unable to speak.
The woman known as Juliet Moore was truly fortunate; she had a man who loved her deeply, waiting to marry her. But here Elena was, about to be sold off to that devil.
Her father, a gambling addict, had racked up an insurmountable debt and, without a word to her, had pawned her off to the president of the Noble Trade Consortium. She had heard that this man had only seen her photo and promptly paid a staggering one hundred million for her.
Elena was attractive, though not the type that would inevitably steal one's heart at first glance. Particularly not for someone like him—a notorious playboy and the youngest billionaire in all of Asia.
Adelaide Frost had said that wealthy men preferred experienced women; if you lacked experience, they wouldn’t even look your way.
That was why Elena had accepted the invitation to this grand Masquerade Ball—seeking a moment of fleeting connection amidst her fate, even if it was utterly absurd.
“Is it good?” When he received no reply, the Stranger leaned in closer, his cold breath grazing her cheek, sending a shiver through her.
Elena’s eyes welled with tears. If there were a man who treated her like this, she would have married him in an instant.
But she knew well that the Juliet Moore he spoke of was not her.
“Is it good?” he asked again, drawing even nearer, his masculine scent enveloping her.
Elena hesitated and then nodded slowly, eventually whispering, “Yes.”
Her reaction stemmed not only from her despair but also from a desire to mend the shattered heart of this ardent man.
The rich crimson of his mask matched the striking yet chilling beauty that radiated from him.
She desperately wanted to reach out and tear away his mask to see who he truly was, to glimpse the woman who had ensnared his heart.
But deep down, she decided against it. This night was absurd and surreal; it was better to pretend nothing had happened.
She straightened her gown, removed her skeleton mask, revealing her fair and innocent features. “Goodbye. I hope you find your beloved Juliet Moore and marry her tomorrow!"
She wasn’t sure why this man kept kissing her eyes, but if she were leaving now, she'd grant him a farewell kiss.
Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on his eyelids.
When Sir Caelum Wingfield awoke, the first thing he saw was the flawless woman beneath him. His eyes narrowed. He had a vague recollection of the previous night, and if it weren't for Lord Nathaniel Duvall's provocation, he wouldn’t have come to such a place or spent the night with this woman.
Lady Amara Wylde stirred awake, her alluring smile juxtaposed with the coldness emanating from Sir Caelum's gaze. “Elena, dear nobleman, you’re awake.”
"Was it you last night?" Sir Caelum quickly dressed, peeling off the uncomfortable butterfly mask that had stifled him, his voice frigid, "What do you want? Speak!"

Chapter 4

“Sir Caelum, what are you saying? She willingly spent the night with me!” Lady Amara Frost purred, wrapping her arms around Sir Caelum Wingfield and letting her fingers dance across his chiseled abdomen.
“You wouldn't want to end up in pieces after last night, would you?” His voice was icy and commanding, a sharp contrast to the soft vulnerability of their previous encounter.
Lady Amara quickly retracted her hand and obediently stated, “Money!”
“Hmph!” Sir Caelum scoffed, his disdain palpable. Once again, it felt like all women had the same motive—money. He recalled the surprise that coursed through him when he saw the blood on his shirt earlier, a haunting reminder of her fierce resistance from the night before. It had only been a game of seduction.
He flung a million-dollar check at her, the weight of his warning hanging heavy in the air. “Don’t show your face in front of me again, or I’ll make you disappear permanently!”
Lady Amara snagged the check in mid-air. A million dollars overnight from Elena Swift was certainly a windfall in her eyes!
With the cash in hand, she donned her skull mask and raced out the door. God only knew what kind of twisted man Sir Caelum was; crossing him could have dire consequences.
Once Lady Amara had left, Sir Caelum dialed a number, his expression twisted in disgust. “Johnathan, do you have that woman?”
“Sir, we’ve brought her back to the villa,” Johnathan replied, his voice devoid of any emotion.
The woman they referred to was Elena Swift. After fleeing the ball the night before, she had fallen prey to a group of shadowy figures who dragged her to this place.
Johnathan, always the serious type, had stuck to formalities since her arrival.
Elena sat rigidly, twisting her neck to ask, “Sir, when will Sir Caelum return? And why do you have me using a cold compress on my eyes?”
She had repeated these questions numerous times, but Johnathan remained unyielding, his silence as icy as Sir Caelum’s demeanor.
“Because I prefer women with beautiful eyes!” a chilling voice called from the doorway, and everyone inside snapped to attention as the newcomer entered. Elena looked up, only to be taken aback by the sight of an exquisitely handsome man striding toward her.
Dressed in a pristine, tailored suit, his sculpted features were stoic, and even his slight smile sent shivers racing down her spine.
It was undeniable: this man was strikingly handsome. Yet, there was a chilling aura about him that felt foreboding.
Elena felt a shiver run through her body as she clenched her hands, rising to adopt the politeness she had seen others exhibit before him. However, the icy figure merely brushed past her, a breeze that felt ten degrees too cold, leaving her momentarily breathless.
“You're Elena Swift?” Sir Caelum appraised her with a single glance. He had seen her photo previously, but in person, she radiated even more allure.
She wasn’t the most stunning woman he had ever encountered, but there was something about her eyes that drew him in, something unique and almost magnetic.
“I am,” Elena replied, her gaze flickering downward, too intimidated to meet his eyes.
This woman truly scared him, didn't she?

Chapter 5

“Do you mean…” Elena Swift's eyes instinctively flicked to the bed, though she desperately wished she was wrong. Who would want to be with such a creep, even if he was undeniably handsome?
A chuckle escaped Sir Caelum Wingfield, his icy, chiseled features softening for a fleeting moment. Even in laughter, his demeanor radiated a chilling aura. “Not every woman deserves to be in my bed. I only need one thing from you.”
He pointed a finger directly at her eyes.
Elena blinked, confused as to why he was fixated on her eyes.
“Ms. Swift, our master has already made arrangements with your father. If you're unclear, you can review the contract,” Johnathan Blackwood interjected, presenting a document.
Elena's heart raced as she took the contract, reading it from beginning to end. No wonder her dad had vanished after that; it turned out he had sold—his own eyes.
What was she supposed to do without her sight? Dad, why would you do this to me?
“Why do you want my eyes? Are you some kind of collector, Sir Caelum?” Elena's voice wavered, a hollow laugh escaping as her fingers dug into the contract.
Sir Caelum's dark eyes narrowed coldly as he lounged on the sofa like a predator. “I despise losing any deal. If you aren't willing, we can exchange your whole family's eyes instead. I’ve heard you have a charming little brother—wonder if he has beautiful eyes like yours.”
“Don't you dare touch my brother!” He was her only family. With a mother gone and a father who was now lost, she couldn’t let anything happen to him.
“Then you have one choice.” Sir Caelum's gaze intensified, pinning her in place. “Either comply, or go fetch your father and brother's eyes.”
“Sir Caelum, are you insane?” Elena couldn't hold back her incredulity. The instant the words left her mouth, Sir Caelum’s previously indifferent expression hardened. He stepped closer, eyeing her, his lips twitching with something resembling amusement.
This woman, terrified yet defiant, reminded him that sometimes wildflowers blooming by the roadside had their own charm. Slowly, he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give you one night to think it over. I expect an answer by morning.”
Elena couldn’t recall how she was led out of the room. As she left, the sweeping arches and long corridors of Wingfield Manor struck her like a tidal wave of nostalgia. Lush vines draped over ancient trees, and suddenly, she felt engulfed in childhood memories.
A little girl, with floppy slippers slapping the polished floors, sprinted through a sprawling villa. A little boy trailed, breathlessly calling, “Elena, wait for me!”
Years later, everything had transformed, yet here she was, ensnared in an echo of the past.
The irony stung—this manor once held two innocent kids, now contained Sir Caelum Wingfield, a man of cold, hard intentions.
Just as she turned to leave, Sir Caelum pushed open the heavy doors behind her, his arms crossed as he admired the greenery entwined around the pillars. Johnathan, ever the observant servant, commented, “She must remind you of someone, Master, given how you chose her based on her eyes.”
Sir Caelum sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment settling heavily in his chest. Yes, he had chosen her because her eyes mirrored those of Juliet’s, the unforgettable beauty from his past.

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