I entered the venue that housed the masquerade ball with quiet confidence, dressed in an elegant black suit that fit me like a second skin, I felt every bit the man I am.
My mask, sleek and black, adorned with subtle silver accents, hid my identity, leaving only a mysterious edge visible to those around me.
The ballroom was alive with chatter and laughter, a swirl of colorful costumes and elaborate masks. Yet all I could focus on was the uneasy feeling stirring inside me.
Something felt off.
As I made my way through the crowd, I mingled with guests and exchanged brief pleasantries as I could recognize most of them and they could recognize me too.
It was obvious that the event was designed for powerful figures, and I knew many of them respected me.
But then, in a moment that sent a jolt through me, I caught a glimpse of a woman.
She moved gracefully among the guests, and something about her looked eerily familiar, almost like Selena.