Elara's POV
It was exactly seven p.m. when my car stopped before Eleanor Hall, one of New York's most prestigious venues—polished marble, crystal chandeliers, and a reputation built on appearances.
A fitting stage for Camila, deliberately chosen to carry out her absurd witchcraft, its charm designed to draw unsuspecting souls into her grasp.
She had always favored places like this—grand enough to impress, controlled enough to manipulate. From the entrance alone, I could already picture her rehearsed tears, her calculated humility, her performance of innocence.
I stepped out, the cool night air brushing my skin.
My gown was one of my private designs—deep obsidian silk with a subtle slit, elegant and dangerous. My hair was braided loosely to one side, soft enough to mislead, deliberate enough to conceal. The mask covered the upper half of my face, sculpted, refined, anonymous.
Tonight, I was a shadow with teeth.
Inside, Camila stood near the entrance, radiant beneath warm lighting, greeting guests with effortless grace—cheek kisses, gentle laughter, hands clasped as if every guest mattered.
"Welcome, Miss DeMille," Camila said sweetly to a woman in black. "I'm honored you could come."
"Well done, sweetheart," the woman replied warmly. "A marvelous event. As expected of Camila Vale—the perfectionist."
Camila laughed lightly, accepting the praise like it belonged to her.
I watched from the line, lips curling beneath my mask.
They still worship her like she's the god-damn goddess of the earth, I thought. Still blind.
What they couldn't see was the chaos beneath her skin—the fear that never truly left her, the secrets rotting behind her smile.
When it was my turn, the guards checked my invitation. My pulse thudded loudly in my ears, but my posture never faltered. Calm was my weapon.
Camila glanced at me briefly.
"Welcome, Miss," she said politely.
I nodded and moved forward—until her voice stopped me.
"Please wait, Miss."
My steps slowed.
Her tone was gentle. Pleasant. Almost warm.
Too warm, the stupid bitch claims—as if her brain hasn't already melted from its own uselessness, ignorance radiates hotter than the room ever could.
I felt her presence behind me before I heard her heels—her perfume drifting closer, floral and familiar. My body tensed.
Not now.
The guards moved to block my path.
I needed disruption. Instantly.
I turned slightly, my voice sharp, slicing through the air.
"Is there a problem? Or is harassment part of your guest experience? When will someone finally crush these cockroaches instead of letting them infest everything? Preventing their filth from spreading any further?"
The guards froze.
Camila stiffened—just for a fraction of a second. Anyone else would've missed it.
I didn't.
"I don't appreciate being detained without explanation," I continued, my voice calm but edged with authority. "Do you know who I am?"
Murmurs spread. Eyes turned.
One guard swallowed. "We're sorry ma'am, we were just—"
I raised my hand. Silence fell. "Oh, please, save your pathetic nonsense for whatever worthless spawn you're going to ruin next, I think they might need a blueprint in how to be a disaster"
The other guard stepped forward quickly, holding something out. "Ma'am, your bracelet fell."
My breath caught.
My eyes dropped to my wrist.
The bracelet.
Mr. Sullivan's gift.
You are my daughter now, Elara, his voice echoed in my mind. Family is chosen by love, not blood.
For a split second, emotion threatened to surface.
Then Camila spoke.
"Ma'am…" Her voice finally broke through, controlled yet cautious.
The weight in my chest grew heavier.
If I turned, there was an eighty percent chance she'd recognize me.
Just as her hand lifted—
"Camila."
Ian's voice cut through the tension like ice.
Relief surged through me, sharp and sudden.
A woman hurried toward Camila. "Miss Camila, Master Ian needs you. He says it's urgent."
Camila's jaw tightened. "Tell him I'll be there shortly. I'm handling something."
Before she could finish, Ian appeared and grabbed her wrist.
"What the hell, Ian—"
"Come. Now," he said coldly.
"But I—"
"Enough." His voice was lethal. "Move."
They walked away, tension trailing behind them like smoke.
I exhaled slowly.
Then I turned to the crowd, irritation settling onto my features like a crown.
"Is this entertainment? Huh!" I snapped. "Or did I walk into a live broadcast?"
People immediately looked away.
I glanced at the guard once more—not with pity, but control.
"Next time," I said coolly, brushing past him, "be quicker. Mistakes embarrass everyone involved. And if you dare... I wouldn't think twice squeezing every god-dam juice from your balls, enough to make them dry"
He nodded stiffly as he swallowed hard I could feel him chocking, face pale.
The hall settled. Any quickly,they run off.
*******
Minutes later, Camila's voice echoed through the speakers.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."
She stood on stage, composed, radiant—every inch the wronged woman.
"It's an honor to stand before you tonight," she said, voice steady, "as someone falsely accused of acts I would never commit—acts that go against everything I stand for."
Applause followed. Sympathy bloomed fast.
She was good.
Very good.
Cameras flashed across the room, capturing every stupid she'd been saying. Tears shimmered convincingly in her eyes.
I watched everything—every staff member, every guest, every hesitation in the hall, noticing their weaknesses and opportunities that my advantage.
Sabotage is too small, I thought. Tonight needs impact.
Slowly, deliberately, I removed my mask.
Camila's gaze swept the room—
And stopped.
Our eyes met.
Five years collapsed into a single heartbeat.
Her breath hitched audibly into the microphone.
"Oh my God…" she whispered. "This—this can't be real… she can't be her..."
The room stirred.
Whispers erupted.
Victoria rushed onto the stage, wrapping an arm around her, whispering urgently. Camila blinked, composure snapping back into place with astonishing speed.
I slipped the mask back on.
And disappeared.
Behind me, Camila steadied herself, tears falling just right.
"I don't know why someone wants to destroy me," she said brokenly, "but I believe the truth will prevail. I only stand for the truth and nothing else"
Victor held her close. Cameras adored her as applause exploded through my skull, trying to find its way on how to mock me on my failure tonight.
"It seems someone had mastered on her special ability. Fuck ,this bitch is good than more I'd expected of her. Being hard to get but I love the challenge. That's what even makes the game more interesting," I said with a smirk.
I watched Ian from the shadows—his gaze sharp, scanning the room, instincts screaming.
You feel it, don't you? I thought. The past never stays buried and remember this,the truth will one day come out. And when that day comes...no one can stop a mother from getting what she truly deserves.
Camila had survived tonight.
But fear had cracked her perfection.
And cracks always grow.