Chapter 3 Falling Masks

I strode down the corridor, anxious to shed the oppressive burden of the day. The flickering

lights above produced inconsistent shadows on the walls, twisting everything into forms I

couldn't fully identify.

I quickened my steps, heels tapping rhythmically on the tiled surface, yet the unsettling

sensation remained, as if invisible eyes were observing me.

Then I saw it-a shadow shifting in time with mine.

I halted suddenly, my heart racing within my chest. The shadow halted as well.

Just as I was about to turn, a powerful arm seized my waist, yanking me back, while a hand

firmly covered my mouth. I flailed, kicking and fighting, but my assailant was too powerful.

"stop struggling," the voice whispered, deep and malicious. "I'm aware of your motive, and I

won't allow you to destroy all that I've created."

The words arrived with a clear, undeniable menace. My heart raced as I struggled to escape.

"You should be cautious," the voice murmured in my ear, every word chilling. "One wrong step,

and you'll be with them. This is the sole warning you will receive."

With a sudden push, I was let go, and I fell ahead, struggling to breathe. As I turned around,

they had vanished, fading into the darkness.

I leaned on the wall, my breathing uneven, my body shaking. My thoughts sped. Who was that?

What was their level of knowledge?

The fragrance of their cologne remained-a subtle, musky aroma I couldn't fully identify. It was

unknown, yet it served as a hint. A minor, incriminating hint.

I stood up straight, burying the panic inside. Whoever that was, they still had unfinished

business with me. And at this moment, I was uncertain about whom to trust.

Later that evening, Emma burst into my house, her expression fierce with resolve. She didn't

hesitate, throwing a folder onto my desk.

"You're not the person you claim to be," she stated, her voice trembling yet determined. "You

are Sophia."

I didn't react, maintaining a neutral expression.

"You're wrong," I responded tersely.

Emma moved nearer, her voice becoming louder. "Quit deceiving! I've protected you for a

sufficient time, but they're getting closer. This is no longer solely about you!"

" Wow, tell me more". I said smiling at her as I pour out a glass of wine.

" You know exactly what I'm saying, I just need you to listen to me". Emma said as she brushed

her hair with her fingers.

"But I can't remember asking you to make any research or get any information for me. I feel you

have not gotten over the death of your sister and I understand that but can you please stop

calling me the name Sofia? I'm sick and tired of all these. Please do not come over to my place

with these matter and I will advise you stay clear from your sister's case because the people

who hunted her might decide to hunt you too". I said as I held back my tears. I didn't wish to talk

to my sister in this manner but I had to do so, so she can stay clear and not ruin my plans. I

don't want their eyes on her.

"You can't fool me and I won't rest till I got the whole prove that you are my sister because I

believe you got a surgery done on your face just to deceive them not me". Emma said angrily.

The debate continued until, exasperated, Emma ultimately left in a huff. I observed her

departure, yet the pressure in my chest refused to diminish.

The stillness caused by Emma's absence hung over the house like an unwanted shadow, yet I

dismissed it. There were more urgent issues to address. Upon reaching the office, I ensured

that each step I took reflected assurance. The sound of my heels on the marble floor was

intentional, a declaration of my arrival. I hardly recognized the staff with a brief nod while

heading to my office.

The moment I entered, I noticed him. Williams. He was already standing, his expression a blend

of annoyance and resolve. His stance was rigid, as if he had practiced his opening statement for

hours.

"Victoria," he started, his voice attempting and not succeeding to sound steady. "We should

discuss the business. The plans for expansion are urgent, and if we postpone-"

I lifted a hand, easily interrupting him. "I can't deal with this at the moment, Williams," I replied,

my voice steady yet uninterested.

"However-"

"I need to go to a meeting," I cut in, picking up my coat and bag. Before he had the chance to

speak again, I cast him a measured smile. "I'll provide you with a location for dinner. We can

talk about it at that time."

I did not wait for an answer. I pivoted and walked away, leaving him to simmer in whatever

unresolved anger he was experiencing.

Later in the afternoon, while I was in my favorite spot in the lounge, enjoying my coffee and

reading through emails, my phone vibrated. The name displayed on the screen brought a smile

to my face, though not in a way that most would anticipate.

"Victoria," the recognizable voice of Williams' father called out. His tone possessed that refined

allure he consistently employed so effectively. "I would like to have dinner with you this evening.

I have something significant that I want to talk about."

Oh, I understood precisely what this was concerning. He believed he was playing chess, but I

had already shifted my queen.

"Certainly," I responded effortlessly, maintaining a cheerful tone. "I'll message you the location."

And I went ahead. The same address I had assured his son before. It was nearly flawless.

The restaurant embodied elegance-golden light cascading from chandeliers, gentle music

playing softly in the background, and a soothing murmur of conversation among the affluent. I

got there ahead of time, of course, and selected a table that provided me with the optimal view

of the entrance.

I requested a glass of wine, allowing its deep scent to soothe my eagerness. When Williams

made his entrance, he dominated the atmosphere. Lanky, pointed, and excruciatingly unaware

of what I had initiated.

His gaze roamed the area until it located me. He approached, his actions strained yet exact.

"Victoria," he acknowledged, his tone steady, although his jaw was clenched.

"Williams," I answered, allowing a rehearsed grin to grace my face.

He sat opposite me, leaning forward as if he was about to dive into a conversation regarding the

business. However, before he could start at all, the door swung open once more.

I noticed him first-father of Williams. His confidence was evident, his pace relaxed as he

approached our table. When he spotted me, his face brightened with a grin that would have

caused any other woman to flutter.

"Victoria," he remarked affectionately, grasping my hand in his as if he possessed the instant.

"Mr. Johnson," I responded with similar charm, standing up to welcome him.

I didn't have to glance to realize Williams had shifted in his seat, standing up. I sensed the

heaviness of his understanding looming like a storm cloud behind me.

As his father moved closer to me, his hand softly grazing my arm, I noticed Williams' response

from the edge of my vision. His jaw stiffened. His hands balled into fists. Oh, how tantalizingly

expected.

I moved closer to the elder Blackwell, allowing my body language to suggest closeness without

revealing too much. As he leaned closer, seemingly to kiss my cheek, I turned my head just a

bit-just enough to provide Williams the ideal angle.

His eyes deepened in color, his stance tense with controlled anger.

I grinned, a sense of fulfillment quietly growing inside me.

"We should take our seat?" I suggested, my voice casual and carefree, as if entirely unaware of

the tension humming in the atmosphere.

Williams took some time to reply. His eyes remained on his father's hand resting on my arm until

he eventually turned and settled into his chair.

While we were seated, I reclined, my wine glass held gently in my hand. I took a tiny sip,

relishing not only the taste but the experience itself.

They believed they were the ones in control, but I had already crafted the screenplay. This was

more than just a meal-it was a meticulously crafted reminder.

Authority isn't granted; it's seized. And this evening, it belonged to me.