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Behind The masks Novel Cover

Behind The masks

After being murdered by the ruthless Cassian Blackwell, Zara Devereux wakes up in his wife's body. Armed with a new identity, she seeks to destroy his blood-soaked empire from the inside. However, her mission is complicated by Sterling, Cassian's uncle, who sees through her disguise. As their forbidden passion grows, Zara must navigate a dangerous world of blood oaths and lies. To survive, she must win this deadly game or risk dying a second time.
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Chapter 6

Zara's POV

I let out a low sigh. "Be honest with me, what kind of man is Cassian, really?"

She hesitated. "He's ambitious... and good looking," she said carefully, as though choosing her words with precision.

"Nana," I pressed, leaning forward, "be honest."

Her lips tightened. "The last time I was honest with you, you nearly got me fired," she said, a forced smile flickering across her face.

I gave a small smile. "I'm sorry about that, Nana. That won't happen this time. I need to know the truth before I get my memory back."

She studied me for a moment, then sighed. "He's charming, polite, but underneath? There's something else. Honestly... he's very ambitious. And when I say very, I mean he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants."

I scoffed lightly, almost bitter. "Tell me about it," I muttered.

My mind went back to Cassian when he mentioned investing in my restaurant and helping bring in other investors, I didn't want it to seem like I was relying on him for everything.

I told him I wanted to contribute something too, and he said that was great, but suggested I give a larger amount so it would 'show commitment.'

My 100,000 dollars. Every last dollar I'd worked so hard for. I'd built my life piece by piece, avoiding any shady investments that even smelled like a scam. I invested wisely, earning little by little, until Cassian's honeyed words made me believe.

I thought I was investing in my future. All I had left was ten grand. Ten! After years of saving, hustling, scraping every cent for that restaurant.

Yes, he's rich, but he did that to cripple me. Without money, I couldn't file a lawsuit, or fight back. He knew once the news of his engagement broke, I'd want to sue him. So he made sure I couldn't.

But then I remembered something, some realtors were circling my space, offering to buy the property, but I refused. Then it clocked, that's what he was after from the start, maybe meeting me at the restaurant wasn't fate. It was calculated.

He never loved me, he wanted my space, that was all. It wasn't about me, it was never about me, and to get what he wanted, he murdered me.

"That bastard," I whispered. My voice, burning with rage.

"What was that?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Please, go on."

She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. "I've watched how he is around you," she said quietly. "I can't help but feel that he's here... not because of love, but because it's good for business. Like he's playing the part of the perfect suitor, but it's all an act."

How could Aria have chosen Cassian over Sterling? Sterling seems different. Unapologetically powerful. How could she have been so blind? The engagement was nothing but a strategic play, and even here, Cassian is playing Aria.

"So it was supposed to be a love marriage, not a contract," I whispered, if it was a contract at least it'll expire after the term.

Nana's eyes softened with sympathy, but her voice was firm.

"If you ask me, Cassian is just waiting, biding his time until your father hands over the company to you when you turn thirty. Be careful, child," she said, rising from the bed and smoothing her dress.

I nodded, a sigh escaping my lips. "Thank you, Nana. I'll keep that in mind."

For the rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking of Cassian's betrayal and how I'd get back at him. But I couldn't help my thoughts from drifting back to Mr. Sterling Blackwell, those intense eyes.

He liked me; I felt it in every stolen glance and lingering look, but of course, he was Cassian's uncle. The line was already drawn, no matter how powerful the attraction felt, I was his nephew's wife. Or at least pretending to be.

I remained in my chambers trying to process the sheer scope of this world I'd been thrust into.

That evening, a gentle knock on my door pulled me from my restless thoughts. Nana stepped in calmly.

"Your manager is here to see you," she said softly.

Before I could process the words, a cheerful woman with bright eyes swept in, her scent of citrus and something expensive filling the room. She moved with the ease of someone who belonged here, her smile wide as she took my hand.

"How are you feeling? I came as soon as Mr. Everhart allowed me," she said, her voice warm and bright.

"I'm sorry... who did you say you are?" I asked, my voice soft.

She looked momentarily stricken. "It's me... Tessa. Your PA," she said, her voice gentle.

"You're her manager," Nana corrected with a small smile.

"It's the same thing," Tessa said with a shrug and a conspiratorial grin.

"Aria has temporary amnesia," Nana explained. "But we'd like to keep that out of the media or press."

"Ohhhh, I understand," Tessa nodded, her gaze shifting thoughtfully. "Nico wanted to come, but Mr. Everhart wouldn't allow it. He asked me to extend his greetings."

"Nico?" I asked, confused.

"Your fashion stylist," she said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I raised my eyebrows. The words felt surreal, almost laughable. My own personal assistant? A fashion stylist? Just days ago, I'd been scrubbing dishes in a tiny restaurant kitchen, struggling to make ends meet. And now there were people managing my life, names and roles and expectations I couldn't begin to comprehend.

"Can you take some time off? Maybe a week," I suggested.

Tessa's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you suspending me?" she asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"No," I said softly, shaking my head. "I just... I need a break. Or rather, I have a different job for you."

A flicker of curiosity passed across her face, but before she could ask, I pressed on.

"Back in the house do I share a room with my... husband?" The word felt foreign on my tongue. The idea of sharing a space, let alone a bed, with the man that tried to kill me sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Can you get me a separate room? Preferably very far from his," I said quietly. "Move my things there."

Tessa was silent for a moment. Then, a small, almost triumphant smile curved her lips.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this. Consider it done."

I blinked in surprise, a thousand questions swirling in my head. Why was she so pleased? What did she know that I didn't?

Before I could ask why she was so happy, a sudden pain exploded in my skull. My vision blurred, and a shrill, high-pitched noise filled my ears. Nana and Tessa's worried voices were swallowed by the sound.

Warmth trickled from my nose. When I touched it, my fingers came away red. Blood. My breath caught, was my soul trying to leave this body? Was this some twisted price for stepping into a life that wasn't meant for me?

All I could do was cling to the fragile thread of consciousness, hoping, praying, that whatever this was would pass. That I would still be me when it did.

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