The Billionaire behind the Silver Mask

People had been staring at me for the last ten minutes.

At first, I ignored them. People looked my way all the time. Some recognized me as Victor Hart's daughter. Others simply stared because I carried drawing tubes everywhere I went.

Today, though, the looks felt different.

I stepped out of the print shop with a warm sheet of paper clutched carefully between my fingers. The ink was still fresh.

Congratulations!

I'd already read that first line at least ten times, but I couldn't stop smiling. Out of hundreds of applicants, I'd been accepted into Hawthorne & Pierce's internship program.

My heart did a little flip. Dad was going to lose his mind.

He had kept every drawing I'd made since I was ten years old. Even the embarrassing ones with crooked windows and trees that looked more like broccoli. Every time I doubted myself, he would pull one out of a drawer and tell me the same thing.

"One day, you'll design buildings that people will remember."

I laughed quietly to myself. "I can't wait to see your face," I murmured, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into a clear document sleeve.

The weather had been threatening to pour all morning and dark clouds swallowed what little sunlight remained. A cool wind brushed past me, the moment I crossed the pavement toward the café beside the print shop.

The bell above the door chimed softly.

"Morning, Miss Hart," the cashier greeted with a forced smile.

I smiled back anyway. "The usual, please."

"Coffee with extra sugar?"

I nodded.

"And one meat pie."

He chuckled.

"For your father?"

"Who else?" I laughed.

He smiled and shook his head.

"He still skips lunch?"

"Every chance he gets." I answered.

The cashier shook his head again while preparing the order.

"One day you're going to get tired of looking after that man."

"Not today," I said.

He handed me the coffee, hesitated, then forced a smile.

"Have a good day, Miss Hart."

Outside, conversations stopped as I walked past. A delivery rider slowed just long enough to look at me before riding away.

I frowned. Did I spill coffee on myself already? I glanced down. No. Everything looked fine.

Weird.

Shrugging it off, I adjusted my umbrella and started walking toward Hart Holdings. The building came into view at the end of the street, and my steps slowed.

Something wasn't right.

There were far too many people outside. Even from a distance, I could see flashing police lights reflecting against the glass walls of the building.

News vans and television cameras lined the entrance. Employees gathered in small groups. Some were crying while others stood frozen, staring at their phones.

A security guard struggled to keep several angry men from pushing through the front entrance.

My smile disappeared and the coffee in my hand suddenly felt heavier.

"What..." The word barely left my lips. I looked up at the company logo fixed proudly above the entrance.

Hart Holdings.

Father had spent over thirty years building it. He used to call it his second child.

People were carrying cardboard boxes out of the lobby. Someone walked past me holding a framed family photograph from one of the offices.

My heartbeat began to race. I tightened my grip on the coffee and hurried forward. No one stopped me or greeted me. They simply watched. As if they all knew something I didn't.

The closer I got, the quieter the world became. Then someone shouted."Miss Hart!"

I stopped instinctively. A woman holding a microphone hurried toward me, followed by two cameramen.

The moment they recognized me, the rest of the reporters rushed over.

"Miss Hart, is it true Hart Holdings has gone bankrupt?"

"Did your father know the company was about to collapse?"

"Is there any truth to the fraud allegations?"

"Miss Hart, what are you going to do now that your family has lost everything?"

Microphones were suddenly everywhere. Camera flashes burst in my face.

I stared at them, completely lost.

"What...?"

The reporter nearest to me frowned.

"Miss Hart, are you saying you knew nothing about the bankruptcy?"

My stomach tightened. "What are you talking about?"

Nobody answered. They simply kept throwing questions at me.

I looked past the crowd and saw Clara. She used to sneak chocolates into my school bag whenever I visited. She was standing near the entrance.

An employee moved past her carrying a cardboard box. A picture frame slipped out and the glass shattered across the wet pavement.

Nobody stopped to pick it up. A chill ran through me. I pushed past the reporters.

"Excuse me."

"Please move."

I didn't wait for another question. All I needed was Clara.

"Clara?"

She flinched, then slowly looked up. Her eyes were red. "What happened?" I asked, forcing a smile that even I didn't believe. "What are they saying about bankruptcy and fraud?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. The silence that stretched between us told me everything. But before I processed it properly, a thought hit me. Dad.

"Clara." My voice came out a little sharper this time. "Where's my dad?"

She looked away and I felt my stomach twist. "No..." I whispered before she could respond. "Look at me, Clara."

Almost immediately, old Mr.Benson from the accounting department came over. The cheerful accountant I grew up with was nowhere to be seen.

"Miss Mona..." His voice cracked. I moved towards him impatiently. "Mr.Benson. Were's my father?"

He swallowed hard. "The chairman..." He paused. "He collapsed during the emergency board meeting."

Everything inside me went still. It felt like the world stopped. Just like that, the coffee slipped from my fingers and the paper bag tore open. The meat pie inside it rolled across the wet pavement. Then my acceptance letter slid into a puddle.

I suddenly could not hear anything. Only one word echoed in my head.

"...Collapsed?"

The word didn't make sense. Dad worked through fevers and laughed off headaches. I shook my head slowly.

"No. There has to be some mistake." Mr Benson looked almost like he wanted to cry too. "I'm sorry, Miss Mona."

My chest ached. "Where is he?" Mr Benson hesitated. "St. Gabriel's..." I turned and ran immediately, leaving everything behind. I had to get to my father.

I ran blindly through the rain. Cold water soaked through my clothes within seconds, but I didn't feel it.

"Taxi!"

My voice broke as I waved frantically at the passing cars.

One sped past. Another was already occupied. I stepped into the road impulsively and a horn blared. Tyres screeched against the wet asphalt.

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me back. "What are you doing?" a man shouted. "Do you want to die?"

I pulled free before he could say anything else. "Sorry." The words came out as little more than a whisper.

A worn yellow taxi slowed beside me. The elderly driver rolled down his window, taking one look at my tear-streaked face.

"Hospital?"

I nodded so hard it hurt. "St.... Gabriel's."

He reached across and pushed the passenger door open."Get in."

The drive felt endless as rain hammered against the windows I clasped my trembling hands together, praying over and over.

Please...

Just let me get there in time.

The taxi stopped before the emergency entrance. Before the driver could say a word, I threw some cash onto the seat and jumped out.

The hospital doors slid open with hiss and cold from the air conditioner hit me immediately, making me shiver but I couldn't care less. Doctors hurried past and nurses pushed stretchers down the corridor.

Everything around me moved too fast. I rushed to the reception desk.

"My father." My voice shook so badly. "Victor Hart... where is he?"

The nurse looked up and recognition flashed across her face. "ICU," she said quickly, pointing down the corridor. "Straight ahead."

I ran again. My footsteps echoed against the polished floor.

ICU.

I reached the corridor....and stopped. Three men in expensive black suits stood outside the intensive care unit.

One of them held a leather document case. Another spoke in a low, measured voice. "...Mr. Hart is unconscious."

A second man sighed. "Then there's no more time."

The first opened the leather folder. "If the contract isn't signed today...Mr. Hart won't survive this."

I froze.

Contract?

What contract?

One of the men noticed me first. "Miss Hart?" I met his gaze and the others looked my way too.

I didn't answer. I brushed past him and reached for the ICU door but a firm hand caught my arm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "The doctors are still inside."

I pulled against his grip. "Let me go. My father is in there." His hand fell away, but he remained where he was. There was sympathy in his eyes, and I already hated it.

"You shouldn't..."

Before he could finish, the ICU doors swung open. Two nurses hurried out, pushing an empty stretcher and the doctor followed, pulling off a pair of gloves.

His gaze settled on me. "Family of Mr. Victor Hart?"

I stepped forward immediately. "I'm his daughter."

The doctor glanced over me, taking in my rain-soaked clothes that were only beginning to dry before nodding.

"You may see him, but only for a minute. He needs complete rest, so please don't let him speak for long."

I was already moving before he finished. The room was brightly lit, yet it felt strangely empty. Machines surrounded the bed where my father lay, each screen quietly tracking the fight his body was still putting up.

I stopped. For a heartbeat, I couldn't recognize the man lying there. An oxygen mask covered half his face.

The strong hands that had spent years sketching building plans and lifting me onto his shoulders now rested on the white bedsheet.

"Dad..." My voice quivered and my eyes stung. I walked to the bedside on shaking legs, one step at a time, and wrapped both hands around his. They were cold. Far colder than they should have been.

A lump formed in my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut. I tightened my grip as though the warmth in my body could somehow find its way into his. Only that morning, he had left home wearing the same navy suit he insisted brought him luck before every important meeting. Now he looked like a man the world had drained of everything.

"I'm...sorry, Papa." I didn't even know what I was apologizing for anymore.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I realized I was crying. "I'm here," I whispered. "You don't have to worry anymore."

His fingers twitched beneath mine. I froze, still sniffing. I stared at them, blinking in rapid succession.

His eyelids fluttered open. For a few seconds, his gaze wandered aimlessly across the room before settling on me. When his eyes finally found me, the tension in his face eased.

"Mona..." His voice was little more than a breath. I leaned closer so he would not have to struggle.

He tried to lift his hand but it barely moved. I quickly held it between both of mine. "You scared me," I whispered, forcing a smile through my tears."Don't you dare do that again."

The corner of his lips lifted into the faintest smile but it disappeared almost immediately. He drew a slow, uneven breath before speaking again.

"I'm... sorry."

I frowned.

"Why are you apologizing?"

His fingers tightened weakly around mine. "I... failed you."

"No," I shook my head."It wasn't your fault."

He looked at me for a long moment. There was sadness in his eyes, but something else was there too. Guilt.

"I couldn't..."

He stopped, struggling to catch his breath.

"I couldn't protect..."

The heart monitor quickened. A nurse who had been observing quietly stepped forward at once. Dad ignored her. His eyes never left mine.

"Listen to me..."

I tightened my hold on his hand and nodded. "Okay."

"You must..." Another painful breath. "...forgive me."

Confusion washed over me. "Dad?"

His voice cracked. "I had... no choice."

Before I could ask what he meant, the monitor beside the bed began beeping faster. The nurse immediately pressed the emergency button.

His lips moved one last time. "H..." I bent closer."Dad?"

"H..." He tried again. "...him..."

Within seconds, the doctor and another nurse rushed back into the room. "Miss Hart."

His voice remained calm, but his expression had changed. "We need you to step outside."

I shook my head. "I'm staying."

He sighed. "You can't."

"He needs me."

"He needs us to keep him alive." The firmness in his voice left no room for argument.

The words struck harder than I expected, and I let go of my father's hand. As the nurses gathered around his bed, the doctor gently guided me toward the door.

I looked back one last time. Dad was still watching me. Not with fear or pain. With the quiet desperation of someone trying to say something he no longer had the strength to speak.

The ICU doors closed. I stood motionless, staring through the narrow glass panel while doctors moved quickly around his bed.

"Miss Hart." I turned at the sound of my name. The man who had stopped me outside the ICU was waiting a few steps away, a slim leather folder tucked beneath one arm.

He walked over slowly before offering a polite nod. "My name is Daniel Reeves. I have served as your father's attorney for many years."

I looked back at the ICU. "If this is about the company, I don't want to hear it."

"It isn't." His answer came without hesitation.

"It is about your father." That made me face him. He held out the folder. "Your father instructed me to place this in your hands the moment you arrived."

I looked at it but made no move to take it. "I don't understand."

"You are not supposed to. Not yet." His voice remained steady, but there was an urgency beneath it that I could not ignore.

He then placed the folder gently into my hands and it was heavier than I expected. Daniel didn't let go of the folder immediately. His fingers remained on it for a brief second, as though the weight of it wasn't measured in paper but in the decision it carried. His expression was calm, yet there was something unusually tired in his eyes.

"Open it before it's too late."

I looked down at the folder.

My fingers wouldn't move.

The leather folder rested in my hands, its edges worn like it has existed for a while. It was nothing more than a stack of papers.

So why did it feel impossibly heavy?

Daniel Reeves waited without saying a word. Behind the glass doors, doctors and nurses moved briskly around my father's bed. Every instinct told me to stay where I was.

"Can this wait?" I asked in a low voice.

"I'm afraid it can't." There was no impatience in his voice. If anything, he sounded tired. "Your father made me promise that you would read those documents the moment you arrived."

I swallowed hard. "What are they?"

"I think it's better if you see for yourself." For several seconds, I simply stared at the folder. Then, with trembling fingers, I loosened the clasp and opened it.

The first page carried my name:

MISS MONA HART

My brows drew together. I turned the page and my breath caught. Across the top of the next document, bold black letters stretched from one side of the page to the other.

MARRIAGE AGREEMENT

I looked at Daniel.

"...What?" I blinked and looked down again. The words didn't change.

A hollow laugh escaped me. "This isn't funny."

No one actually laughed with me.

I flipped to the next page and there were more legal documents. I flipped and flipped until my attention caught something. My father's signature appeared at the bottom of the document. I recognized it instantly because I had watched him sign birthday cards, report cards, sketchbooks, and countless business papers for as long as I could remember.

There was no mistaking it. It was definitely his handwriting. I looked up so quickly the papers nearly slipped from my hands.

"What is this?"

Daniel met my eyes. "It is a legally binding marriage agreement."

I stared at him. "This has to be a sick joke."

"You should keep reading."

"I won't ." My voice rose for the first time as I snapped the folder shut. "My father would never promise me to someone without my permission."

Daniel remained silent. The silence only made my anger grow.

"Say something."

He exhaled slowly. "He wanted to."

My expression faltered "To what?"

"He intended to tell you himself."

"Then why didn't he?"

Daniel glanced towards the ICU before answering. "Because every time he tried..." His voice grew quieter. "...he couldn't bring himself to do it."

My grip tightened around the folder.

"This doesn't make any sense."

"It didn't to me either."

I searched his face for any sign that this was some elaborate mistake but I found none.

I lowered my eyes to the document again and opened it one more time. One section had been highlighted.

Bride: Mona Hart

Just beneath it...

Groom: Adonis Blackwood.

My breathing stopped.

Adonis...Blackwood?

The name echoed through my mind. Of course I knew it.

Everyone in Ashcroft City did.

The billionaire who never appeared in public without a silver mask. The man newspapers loved to call the Masked Devil of Blackwood International.

Some people claimed his face had been destroyed years ago. Others insisted there was nothing wrong with him at all, that he hid his face simply because he enjoyed making people fear him.

No one seemed to know the truth. The rumors only grew louder because no one had ever seen his real face.

I slowly lifted my head.

"Adonis Blackwood?"

Daniel gave a single nod.

"The same Adonis Blackwood everyone's always talking about?"

Daniel brow furrowed slightly. "Mr. Blackwood doesn't appreciate rumors."

A chill crept down my spine and I looked back at the contract.

I scoffed bitterly. "Father wouldn't do this to me." My voice trembled. "Especially not with someone the whole city calls a monster."

Daniel's expression remained unreadable.

"Rumors rarely tell the whole story."

"But why?"

My voice was barely audible. "Why would someone like him want to marry me?"

Daniel didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. "That is a question only Mr. Blackwood can answer."

I stared at the papers in my hands. None of this felt real. I closed the folder and raised a brow. "I'm not marrying him." Daniel's expression didn't change.

"I understand."

"No." I met his eyes. "I don't think you do."

"My father is fighting for his life in there." I pointed toward the ICU. "And you're asking me to think about marriage?"

"I'm asking you to honor the decision he made."

"I can't." The words came without hesitation. "I won't."

Daniel let the silence settle before reaching into his briefcase. He removed another stack of documents.

"They're part of the agreement."

He handed me the document and In it was a financial statement, court notices, loan default letters and bank demands. Each page carried an official seal.

"The banks called in every outstanding loan. The investors withdrew. Even the board voted to liquidate Hart Holdings."

I stopped looking at the document and fixed my gaze on Daniel.

"Every personal asset registered under your father's name has already been seized." He continued.

My mouth went dry.

"Our house?"

Daniel nodded.

"And...our savings?"

Another nod. "Everything."

The corridor fell silent. Then Daniel added,

"Except you."

My brow arched.

"What does that mean?"

"This marriage agreement became part of your father's rescue package six months ago."

My eyes widened a bit.

"Six months?"

He nodded.

"That was when Hart Holdings first began collapsing."

The words hit differently this time.

Six months ago...I had still been away at university. Obsessing over studio projects and complaining about deadlines.

Calling Dad every weekend, believing everything at home was exactly as he'd always told me. All that time, he had been carrying it all alone.

"The company was already failing?" I whispered.

Daniel nodded.

"Your father's health had also begun to deteriorate."

My chest tightened.

"He chose not to tell you." He paused ." Because he didn't want your final year distracted by his problems."

I closed my eyes and clenched my fist.

Every time he'd said, "Everything's fine, sweetheart." He had been lying.

Daniel slid the marriage agreement back toward me. "If you refuse to marry Adonis Blackwood..."

His voice became firmer. "...the Blackwood family will withdraw every form of protection they have extended to your father."

He took in a breath. "Including all the Hart Holdings' debts they purchased."

He continued calmly. "And your father?"

Daniel didn't soften the truth. "The specialists treating him were also brought in through the Blackwood family."

The air caught in my lungs.

"If their support ends..."

He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

I looked toward the ICU. Dad. Then down at the agreement.

Adonis Blackwood. The billonaire behind the silver mask. The man holding my father's future in his hand

I closed the folder. When I looked up again, my decision had already been made in my mind. "Take me to Adonis Blackwood."