Chapter 4 The Mask Begins to Crack

The game was turning against My father.

His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles whitening as he stared at the table in disbelief. His bets, once confident and calculated, were now reckless. His pile of chips was dwindling with every round, and the frustration on his face was evident.

Mike, on the other hand, was smiling.

Relaxed. Amused, even.

He leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, his eyes never leaving Raymond's.

I could feel the shift in the air.

My father was losing. And when my father losses, someone else always pays the price.

I felt a wave of heat passed through my body, unexpected and all-consuming.

I shifted slightly on Mike's lap, trying to steady myself, but the sensation only worsened. My skin felt too tight, my breath too shallow.

Why was I feeling like this?

Mike must have noticed because he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

I felt very unease, this was the same feeling I experienced 10 years ago when I had my first kiss with Miles.

"Let's take a break," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "Join me on the balcony. We can drink and get to know each other better."

I hesitated, I have not yet recovered from the shock going through my mind.

My father didn't buy the idea.

"She stays here," My father snapped, his tone sharper than before, you could literally feel the anger in him.

Mike arched a brow, his smirk widening. "Why? are you scared she might say something she shouldn't?"

Raymond scoffed, but there was something uneasy in his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm simply looking out for my partner."

Partner?, why can't you address her as your daughter for once...

That word twisted something inside Mike. A wave of thought flashed through his mind.

Raymond had reduced his own daughter to nothing more than a pawn, a tool to be used in his twisted games.

The anger Mike had been holding back simmered dangerously close to the surface, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Mike said, standing with his hands in his pocket.

He held out his hand gently towards me.

I stared at it for a moment before slipping my fingers into his.

And just like that, Raymond had no choice but to let me go.

---

The Balcony

The cool night air hit my flushed skin the moment we stepped outside.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it did little to ease the strange warmth spreading through me.

You could view the city from the balcony, the neon lights painting the streets below in streaks of red, blue, and gold.

A waiter approached us, setting down two glasses of whiskey before retreating.

Mike picked up his glass, watching me over the rim as he took a slow sip.

"So, Ghost," he said, breaking the silence. "Why do you always have the mask on?"

I lifted my own glass but didn't drink.

"It helps me keep my emotions in check," i admitted quietly.

Mike tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "In check?, Is that so?"

I nodded, staring down at the golden liquid in my glass. "People tend to use emotions against you."

His grip tightened around his drink.

Such that I would know.

Mike's mind flashed back to the past-to a girl who had once smiled so easily, who had once looked at him like he was her whole world.

Now, she is nothing more than a ghost of the girl he had loved.

We sat in silence for a moment, we were both lost in our own thoughts.

Then, without another word, I placed my glass back on the table. "We should go back in."

Mike simply nodded.

The game wasn't over yet.

---

The Fall of Raymond Highborn

Back inside, the atmosphere had changed.

This time, it wasn't my father who was leading the game.

It was Mike.

Every move was calculated, every bet precise.

My father's confidence was crumbling with each passing minute. His frustration had turned into desperation, his hands trembling slightly as he played his next hand.

But deep down, he already knew.

He had lost.

My vision was beginning to blur.

Something was wrong.

My fingers trembled as I reached for my glass, but before I could take another sip, my stomach twisted in realization.

I was the one blacking out.

Mike wasn't drunk.

He had never been drunk.

And then it dawned on me.

This was a setup.

Mike knew exactly who we were.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I got up from my seat, my body swaying slightly from the effects of whatever had been slipped into my drink.

My father's head dropped forward in defeat.

The game was over.

Slowly, I turned to look at Mike.

The smirk on his lips sent a chill down my spine.

That evil smile, when you know your plans are working out fine..

But it was his eyes that made my stomach drop.

Triumph.

And something else.

Something far more dangerous.

Pain.

Betrayal.

Recognition.

He knew.

He had known all along, that I was not just ghost but Avery, the young girl he had once loved.

I took a step back, my breathing uneven. I grabbed my father's arm and pulled him up.

"We're leaving," I muttered, my voice shaking.

Raymond didn't argue, he knew he had lost. There is no point staying back after the defeat.

He simply allowed me drag him away, his shoulders slumped in utter defeat.

What a shame, I never expected the game to turn again e in this manner, he said, with bitterness in his tone.

Mike didn't stop us from taking our leave.

He simply watched, a ghost of a smile on his lips as we disappeared through the casino doors.

The game was over.

For now.

___

Mike's POV

I stepped into my mansion, the rhythmic beeping of medical monitors filling the silence. My eyes immediately landed on the hospital bed in the center of the room, where Jerry Drummond lay unconscious, his face pale but his chest rising and falling steadily.

Thank goodness you are still alive, I will make sure Raymond and his daughter pay for what they had done to you, I said while staring at him.

Dr. Hayes, the family physician, turned to me with a nod. "He's stable. The drugs are wearing off, but it'll take a few more hours before he's fully awake."

My jaws tightening, just as I exhaled.

Jerry wasn't dead. But the world believed otherwise.

Just as planned.

The door swung open, and Mona strode in, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

"Can you explain why you made the press believe that Jerry drowned himself?" she asked, arms crossed.

I turned to her, my expression unreadable. "That's a story only he gets to hear." nodding toward Jerry's unconscious form.

Mona huffed in frustration. "You know, one day, all this secrecy is going to bite you in the ass."

I didn't respond. I simply walked past her, heading toward my office.

The moment I stepped inside, my right-hand man, Cole, was already waiting.

"What's next?" Cole asked, getting straight to business.

I took off my tie, tossing it onto the desk. "We need to create another opportunity. This time, I want Avery left alone. Her father needs to be dealt with first."

Cole's lips twitched into a smirk. "Dealt with? Any specifics?"

My fingers tapped against the desk.

That bastard.. "Abduct him. Make it clear that the only way to save him is for Avery to meet a prestigious man who's in love with her."

Cole arched a brow. "And if she refuses?"

"Then she goes to the police."

I leaned back onto my chair, watching Cole's expression shift. "And if she does that, we'll know she's not involved in this."

"But if she comes?"

"Then she's just as guilty as her father, Raymond."

Cole studied him for a moment before nodding. "Consider it done."

As he turned to leave, I closed his eyes, my mind racing.

Avery Highborn.

The girl I once loved.

The girl who now stood on the other side of the battlefield.

One way or another, I was going to find out the truth.

___

I sat behind my desk, swirling the amber liquid in my glass when the door creaked open. My mother, Eleanor, stepped in, her sharp gaze pinning me in place.

"I heard about your little meeting with Raymond Highborn and his daughter," she said casually, closing the door behind her.

I didn't flinch. "And how exactly did you hear that?" I asked.

Eleanor smirked. "I have my ways." She took a step closer, her expression turning cold.

"Listen to me, Michael. I don't want to see you anywhere near that girl. She's dangerous, just like her father. You shouldn't try to rekindle whatever it is you two left behind."

I clenched my jaw, setting my glass down with a thud. "You don't get to dictate my life. Not anymore." my voice was firm, final.

My mother stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"So, I suggest you walk out of my office," I continued, my eyes darkening. "Now."

Eleanor held her gaze for a long moment before exhaling sharply. Without another word, she turned on her heels and left, the tension in the room lingering even after she was gone.

You could literally tell she had her plans with the look on her face...

Just then Mona said, while standing at the entrance of my office;

I hope you are prepared for what you just started.