Elena paced slowly in the hallway, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she glanced once more at the clock hanging on the white wall.

9:00 a.m. And there was still no sign of him.

She let out a quiet sigh, the kind that came from overthinking too early in the morning. For hours, she had tiptoed through the penthouse, making breakfast, setting the table perfectly, aligning the silverware like she'd seen in those glossy hotel magazines. But the food remained untouched, and so did the silence.

With a resigned breath, Elena turned toward the dining section, ready to begin clearing up, when her phone buzzed on the marble countertop.

It was a FaceTime call.

She blinked at the screen when she saw the person.... Quickly, she straightened her posture and swiped to accept.

"Hello, Miss Rivera," Mr Chris' voice came through, smooth and polite.

"Good morning," Elena greeted, bowing her head slightly. "Sir."

"How was your first night?" he asked with a professional smile.

"It was nice," she replied, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips.

"Glad to hear that." His eyes scanned her background through the screen. "Oh, did you prepare breakfast for Mr Hughston?"

Elena nodded, glancing instinctively toward the corridor. "Yes, but... he's yet to come downstairs."

Mr Chris waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, you needn't have gone through the trouble. Mr Hughston returned to one of his other residences late last night. Likely won't be back until his son arrives."

"Oh," Elena said, blinking, unsure how to respond.

"Now, the reason I called," he continued briskly. "I need you to check the storage room. Just past the service hallway on the east wing. You'll see a grey keypad on the door."

She reached for a notepad nearby. "Okay, and what am I looking for in there?"

"There are boxes.... please be very careful with them. Inside, you'll find framed photos of young Hughston and his mother. A few of Mr Hughston's wedding frames as well. Kindly hang some of them in his suite and place a few around the living area. We're trying to make the space feel a bit more... homely, before his son returns."

Elena paused for half a second.

"Okay okay" she said.

Mr Chris nodded. "Do take care. Some of the frames are originals. Don't break anything."

"Yes, sir. I'll get started right away."

He gave her a short nod before the call ended.

With a slow turn she made her way to the storage area, which quiet didn't even look like the normal storage we're used to, it was neat and in order.. she moved inside glancing around and noticed something almost brand new that appeared to have never been opened or used for a second, and dumped..... she walked a bit inside and saw exactly what Mr Chris described... carefully she raised it, removed the frames from each box which was about 6...

She slowly gazed at it as she saw a beautiful picture of little Hughston and her mom, they looked adorable but expensive. When she turned to the next one, it was a wedding photo of them...

Mr Hughston had a bright smile, she never thought he could even smile... After a few glances at the family photos, she placed them on a troll and dragged them out from there.

..................

Welcome Mr. Damien Hughston," the man said with a respectful nod as Damien stepped down from the helicopter.

He didn't respond just a curt nod back as he adjusted himself and followed the man across the gravel path. The area was marked "Private Access Only," and the weight of its silence said enough. Nature had reclaimed most of the grounds, but the structure ahead stood still untouched.

"This is the same spot where the crash happened," the supervisor muttered as they walked toward the gated section. "Everyone survived... except her."

Damien's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he said nothing.

"I know how much you loved your wife, Mrs Victoria," the man added quietly.

With a sharp sigh and a subtle eye roll, Damien walked ahead. He scanned the perimeter, checked the restored fence lines, paused near the crash marker, then headed into the small facility beside it.

Inside, he reviewed the reports laid out on a table. No new findings. Just maintenance logs and security updates. He barely glanced through them.

After a few minutes, the car they had used to pass through the narrow trails

Came to a stop and Damien stepped out.

"Thank you for coming again, sir," the guard said, offering a quick handshake.

Damien took it without emotion, then walked straight back to the waiting helicopter.

With no look back

Sitting inside the helicopter as it soared high above the hills, Damien leaned back, eyes half-closed. The wind outside roared softly, but inside his head, it was quieter. And a memory rushed in...

"No, I can't do this anymore with you, Damien,"

Victoria's voice echoed in his head as she gently pulled away from his touch.

"You know how much I love you, Vic. Why do you want to break this marriage off?"he said as he reached for her again. But she had already taken a step back.

"I fell out of love with you, Damien... I... I'm sorry. I didn't get the attention, the affection I needed from you after we got married. Please... understand and move on.".

That was the first time she looked at him like a stranger.

"We can fix this,, we can always do that" he'd said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "We can rebuild. I know I've been a workaholic, but I'll slow down.... for you. For our son. Just give me one more chance."

She had swallowed hard, then took another step back.

"No, Damien. Let it go. For the sake of our son, we can stay under one roof... but in separate rooms. Until everything is finalized."

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

After that, things were cold. Nods instead of words. Awkward silence in shared spaces. She only spoke around their son... smiling just enough to keep him from asking questions. But when the boy wasn't around, the silence between them was louder than any argument.

Eventually, she moved out. Even before the divorce was finalized. Damien hadn't protested, not even when she asked for nearly half of everything he owned.

He just gave it up to her...

But then... that night... He went to free his mind

The masked ball. The champagne. The way the lady had looked at him through that gold-trimmed mask. Like he mattered. Like she wanted him.

Skin on skin, her soft moans, the way she clung to him.. unfiltered, raw as they made out... It hadn't felt like a stranger in his arms. It felt like fate trying to give him a second chance.

That morning, his head had throbbed slightly from the drinks, but it wasn't what woke him. It was the silence again.

He rolled over to her side of the bed. She was still there, her chest rising and falling gently in sleep. Her mask was still on. Every other layer had fallen but that one piece stayed.

Curiosity nudged him forward. He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the mask, ready to see the woman who had stirred something in him after so long...

Then his phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Mr Hughston, I'm sorry to inform you.. Your wife was in an accident..."

In a second, everything changed. He had bolted out of that hotel room, still half-dressed, without even looking back at her in the bed.

Back in the present, Damien blinked out of the memory. The helicopter hummed beneath him as it cut through the clouds.

He looked out the window at the high view, the world so small beneath him.

Elena sang as she rinsed the last of the shampoo from her hair. The warm water was bliss. With Mr. Hughston out of the house... presumably for days she'd taken the liberty to enjoy a long, relaxing shower.

Then pfff

The water pressure dropped to a miserable trickle.

She frowned. "Oh, come on..."

Wrapped in a towel, she stepped out, still dripping. She peeked out of the bathroom door, already knowing no one should be home.

.

Good.

Muttering to herself, she padded barefoot across the hall and down to the laundry area, where the main tap controls were... As she bent over to adjust it, twisting the knob, she heard the main entrance door slid open and she froze immediately, her heart in throat...

She heard a few steps.

"Oh my.. G.. Oh.. my".

Before she could react, she bolted for her room. In her panicked dash, the towel slipped completely leaving her bare and breathless just as Damien stepped into the hallway.

He stopped.

So did she.

There was a second of horrifying silence as both stared in wide-eyed shock.

Elena screamed. A high-pitched, panicked screech that echoed through the hallway.

"Ah...ahhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

Damien flinched like he'd been electrocuted, instinctively snapping his head away from her.

"What the actual? " he growled, facing the wall now, completely rigid.

Still frozen mid-sprint, Elena clumsily grabbed her fallen towel, clutching it to her chest and quickly scrambled behind the nearest console table.

She ducked just as her soapy foot slipped slightly on the tiles, nearly sending her crashing to the floor.

"Soorrr. I thought... You weren't coming back till Monday !" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with panic from her hiding spot.

"I wasn't!" he barked, still not turning. "What the hell is happening in my house?! Why are you moving around butt naked?!"

"It's not what it looks like! I...I can explain, I swear"

"Great. Just... perfect," he muttered under his breath.

Elena, crouched awkwardly behind the narrow console table, still dripping wet and covered in soap, whispered under her breath:

"...This is not how I planned to meet you again, Sir."

.......

The next morning...

Elena cracked her door open just an inch, peeking into the hallway like a burglar checking for cameras.

She exhaled a little.

Maybe he left early... maybe he evaporated out of shame. Maybe I imagined it all and I'm dreaming in a coma...

She tiptoed out only to immediately freeze.

There he was.

Standing by the massive floor-to-ceiling window like a scene out of a luxury magazine, tall and sharp in a crisp black shirt, scrolling through his digital pad like last night didn't involve a surprise live showing of The Naked Nanny.

Elena slammed back behind her door with a gasp, her hand clutched over her chest like she'd just survived a gunshot.

"Oh God, he's still here..." she whispered to herself, back pressed to the door. "How do I face him? How do I look at that man in the eyes after he's seen my boobs and my bubble butt bubbly in the literal sense!"

She closed her eyes tightly.

Maybe if I hold my breath long enough, I'll disappear. Poof. Gone. Erased by embarrassment.

Before she could even muster the courage to peek again, Elena flinched....

A towering shadow loomed.

She slowly lifted her gaze...

And Saw Him standing just in front of his door with. A sharp and deadly gaze

The door opened wider and she stepped out slowly, feeling like her knees might give out.

"G.. good morning, sir," she said, her voice shaking and all over the place.

He didn't smile. Didn't blink.

"It's almost eight," he said coldly, "and you're still not out. Is this how you intend to do your job around here?"

She opened her mouth to explain, but

"Save it," he cut in, already tired of her.

Then he stepped closer, just a little. His eyes didn't even fully meet hers.

"And next time," he muttered, sharp and fast, "if you plan to flash someone, know this isn't the place."

With that, he turned and walked off without another word.

Elena just stood there. Face hot. Chest tight. Her mind blank...

.......

The kitchen smelled amazing as fresh eggs, sizzling sausage, and toast just began to brown. Elena was focused, determined to redeem herself after the... towel situation.

She popped two slices of bread into the toaster, then rushed to set the table. Just as she was placing down the last fork, to had to go pick something up"

She spun back toward the stove, then froze.

There was smoke everywhere . Thick and rising fast from the toaster.

"No no no no!"

She dashed over, waving a dish towel frantically at the smoke detector. But it was too late, and the sound went off.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The blaring alarm pierced through the entire house as the smart system started announcing:

"WARNING: SMOKE DETECTED. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

Elena choked on a cough, still waving the towel like a lunatic.

"It's just toast! I swear it's just toast!"

Footsteps thundered on the staircase.

Damien stormed in, shirt half-buttoned, eyes sharp and furious.

"What on earth is happening down here?!"

He didn't wait for an answer. With one swift move, he reached up to the wall panel and tapped a code. The alarm cut off instantly.

Except for Elena's breathless coughing.

"Cough... I.. I was just making toast..." she wheezed.

Damien stared at the mess-blackened toast, smoke swirling in the air, and Elena looking like she'd just fought a fire in a nightgown.

"You can't even make breakfast without triggering an emergency protocol?"

Elena said nothing....her throat dry, eyes wide, still recovering from the shock and smoke.

Damien narrowed his eyes at her. "Wait... which planet are you even from?" he muttered, brushing past her.

He paused mid-step, then turned slightly, tossing over his shoulder, "Looks like I'll have to charge your cost another way."

Elena blinked. "Huh?"

He stopped. Turned fully. His chest bare under his half-buttoned shirt was in full view now. Elena's eyes, against her will, dropped slightly before darting back up in panic.

"Yeah," he said coldly. "In jail, because at this rate, you're one breakfast away from getting fired."

She swallowed hard.

"Get it together," he added flatly, before turning and disappearing down the hall.

................

Still coughing from the smoke, Elena steps out into the garden for some air.. Her phone buzzes

And it was from an Unknown Number.

She hesitates, then answers.

"Hello?"

"Elena Rivera. Finally. It's Jorge from WestLine Interiors. We've been trying to reach you. Heard you found some... upgraded employment."He said cocky

Elena blinks, her throat tightening. That familiar condescending tone again.

"We have a client - VIP. Asked for you by name. Thought you'd like a shot at redemption." He said

She lets out a dry laugh.

"Redemption? I didn't steal anything, Mr. Jorge. I left." Elena said on the phone.

"Touchy. Still full of attitude. So... are you available or should I tell them you're too busy scrubbing toilets in some rich man's house?"Mr Jorge said

Elena stares ahead. Damien's silhouette is visible through the tall windows. He's watching her without moving.

She draws a deep breath.

"You've always thought so highly of yourself. So, since you're the expert... why don't you figure it out?" She hangs up straight away, cutting him off.

............................

Evening.

The music was loud, pulsing through the walls as Damien stepped out of the car. Mr. Thomas led the way toward the club entrance.

"Tonight's another mask party," Mr. Thomas said as they walked past the bouncers.

Inside, the lights were dim but alive with color. People danced in glittering masks, laughter echoing around them.

A waitress stepped forward with a polite smile. "Sir, would you like something to drink?"

"No," Mr. Thomas cut in smoothly. "We're only here to check on something."

They moved further into the crowd. Another server passed by with a tray of elaborate masks.

Thomas picked two. He handed one to Damien, then slipped the other on himself. Damien hesitated for a moment before putting his on too.

They blended into the party.

A woman in a sleek black mask stepped in front of Damien, brushing her fingers along his collarbone. "Wanna have some fun, Sexy Daddy?" she purred, reaching for his neck.

Damien pulled back instantly, brushing her off with a firm hand.

Then he froze.

Across the dancefloor, he caught a glimpse of a woman in a gold mask. The same mask. The same body type. The same presence.

His eyes narrowed, pulse kicking up.

Without thinking, he walked quickly toward her. "Hey", he called, grabbing her attention.

The woman turned, looking surprised.

"Yes?" she asked, but the voice wasn't hers. It was wrong.

Damien stared, searching her eyes through the mask., and a little over her breast side to see if it lifted the same way it did 3 years ago. But it wasn't her.

"Never mind," he muttered as he stepped back, a trace of disappointment shadowing his face.

---

Damien had already walked off into the crowd by the time Thomas reached the small, roped-off VIP section.

Inside, a man in a black suit sat behind a short glass table, sipping from a lowball glass. His eyes flicked up as Thomas approached.

Thomas pulled a folded photo from his coat and placed it carefully on the table. The image was dimly lit, slightly grainy, a still from the club's surveillance. It captured a woman in a gold mask, her figure half-turned away from the camera.

The man leaned forward, squinting. "It's going to be hard," he muttered. "Everyone wears masks here, hidden identity...that's the whole point."

Thomas didn't move. "You've been running this place for years. Surely you've got records. A name or Something."

The man stared at the photo a moment longer, then shook his head slowly. "I know every regular here. Every girl behind every mask." He tapped the photo. "She's not one of them. Doesn't ring a bell."

"So she could've been a one time guest?"

"Could be. Happens sometimes. A few new faces drift in, try the scene, then vanish." He slid the photo back toward Thomas. "Sorry. She's not someone I recognize."

Thomas frowned, taking the photo back. "Thanks," he muttered, eyes thoughtful.

As he walked off to find Damien, the mystery of the woman in the gold mask only deepened.