<h4>Chapter 205: Chapter 205 Masks and Mysteries</h4>


    Cecilia’s pov


    Sebastian considered my request for a moment, his expression thoughtful.


    Finally, he nodded. "I’ll have Tang drive you all there."


    I appreciated that he didn’t try to stop me.


    I had my own friends, my own rhythm, and my own corners of the world I wanted to belong to--and he understood that.


    "Thanks, that would be great," I said, not refusing the offer.


    With Cici still on the loose--God only knew where--having Tang nearby would definitely help me sleep better at night.


    After our brief conversation, I headed home to get ready.


    I chose a breezy mint-green dress perfect for summer, applied just enough makeup to enhance rather than transform, and twisted my hair into an elegant updo.


    The ne I picked was exactly what I wanted--not shy enough to scream for attention, but still elegant.


    When I came downstairs, Tang was already waiting by the car.


    "Cecilia!" he called out, looking effortlessly handsome in a in white tee and ripped jeans--the kind of casual confidence that made it look like he’d just stepped out of a Levi’s ad without trying.


    I climbed into the back seat, and we set off to collect Harper and Yvonne.


    First stop: Harper’s apartment.


    The sapphire-blue dress I’d helped her choose hugged her tall, striking frame like it had been custom-made.


    Her bold features and don’t-mess-with-me energy made her look like she owned the room before she even entered it.


    "You were so right about this dress," she’d told me yesterday. "It’s like you read my mind and pulled out my fashion fantasy."


    When she spotted me in the back seat, she slid in beside me instead of taking the front.


    The moment her door clicked shut, she leaned in and whispered, "Has Sebastian found any trace of Cici? I had Levan posted outside my cest night so I could sleep. Honestly, we should’ve let Nicole stab that psycho while we had the chance."


    I gave her a smile. "Don’t worry too much. If she doese back for blood, you’re not her first target."


    Harper frowned. "That’s... somehow notforting. If you’re her target, I’m even more stressed!"


    "Don’t stress,dies," Tang called from the driver’s seat. "The Alpha’s got a solid lead on her escape route. It’s just a matter of time. If she darese back, I’ll crush her windpipe with one hand."


    Harper and I exchanged nces, both of us instinctively ncing at Tang’s arms--the kind of muscles that made you believe he absolutely could back that statement up.


    Harper leaned forward, resting her chin on the seat back, her voice turning yful. "Tang, since Cecilia’s got your Alpha guarding her, maybe you could be my bodyguard tonight?"


    "Sure thing," Tang said, not missing a beat.


    Harper’s face lit up like she’d just won backstage passes to a rock concert.


    Cici became old news the second Tang said yes.


    I could only sigh at how fast her mood could swing from vengeance to flirtation.


    A few minutester, we pulled up to Yvonne’s ce.


    She stepped out in a backless pink gown that somehow managed to be both sugar-sweet and borderline criminal.


    One nce at her, and Harper and I both felt slightly winded.


    She slid effortlessly into the passenger seat, set down her clutch, and fastened her seatbelt like she was starring in a perfumemercial.


    "Well, if it isn’t my favorite reckless chauffeur," she drawled, her voice smooth as champagne.


    "Hi," Tang greeted with a grin that could sell toothpaste.


    "I’m not reckless," Tang protested, sounding just a little wounded. "I’m a very responsible driver."


    "Sure you are," Yvonne replied, smilingzily. "Now take us there, genius." She gave him the address, and he pulled into traffic.


    The drive took nearly ny minutes. We passed horse farms, winding hills, and the kind of private gates that said, "You don’t belong here unless yourst name is on a building."


    Eventually, we arrived at what could only be described as a Gatsby-level estate.


    All manicuredwns, marble columns, and enough hidden cameras to make the CIA jealous.


    ording to Yvonne, this wasn’t even Dahlia’s main residence--just one of her many ygrounds for entertaining.


    Yvonne led Harper and me to the entrance.


    After shing our invitations, we were ushered into a side room where a sharply dressed staff member greeted us with a newssh:


    "There’s been ast-minute twist to the evening," he announced with a practiced smile. "Mrs. Dahlia has decided to make this a masquerade. Please choose a mask."


    Yvonne’s brows arched. "That wasn’t in the invite."


    "A spontaneous choice," the attendant replied smoothly. "Our hostess thought a traditional ball might be a bit... predictable. The masks add ayer of mystery."


    Yvonne tilted her head. "Fair enough. If she wants mystery, let’s give her mystery."


    Harper and I exchanged a nce but didn’t argue.


    We selected elegant masks--nothing too shy, just enough to look like we belonged in a Netflix period drama.


    As we stepped back into the hallway, Harper nearly collided with another guest entering the mask room.


    "Careful!" Yvonne reached out and steadied her.


    I nced at the woman--and my stomach flipped.


    Luna Dora.


    Luckily, I was already masked, and she didn’t give me more than a passing nce before gliding past, her heels clicking withposed authority.


    She hadn’t recognized me, but I’d know that posture anywhere. And that signature burgundy gown? It was as subtle as a red alert.


    "Let’s go," I murmured, gently tugging Harper’s arm.


    Yvonne caught the shift in my tone and gave us a look--the kind that said, "Spillter." We moved wordlessly into the main ballroom.


    Once we were safely swallowed by the crowd, Yvonne leaned in close, her voice low but sharp. "That was Alpha Xavier’s mom, wasn’t it? Praise be for these masks. If she’d clocked you, I bet she’d have gone full Real Housewives."


    I didn’t answer. Harper stayed quiet too.


    We both knew Luna Dora wouldn’t have confronted me--she’d have simply pretended I didn’t exist. But there was no point exining that to Yvonne.


    We each grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server and took in the room. It was already buzzing with energy--guests in shimmering gowns,ughter echoing under the chandeliers, the clink of crystal sses.


    Despite the masks, we drew attention.


    I could hear it already: the whispers, the not-so-subtle stares. Some recognized Yvonne and started piecing things together.


    Others just spected like it was sport.


    It was the kind of atmosphere where the gossip spread faster than the champagne.


    I took a slow sip and scanned the room more deliberately.


    Then something clicked.


    Every guest was a woman.


    Not just mostly women--exclusively.


    Which made zero sense.


    It wasn’t early in the evening anymore. If this were a mixed event, the men would’ve shown up by now.


    I leaned toward Yvonne, keeping my voice low. "Is this... women-only?"