Chapter 18: Masks Are for the Living

There were masks, and then there were performances.Veronica had mastered both long ago.

That morning, the sun spilled over the campus of Elite High with golden arrogance, the kind that made marble glint and ivy shimmer as if aware of their legacy. But the true shimmer of the day wasn't the architecture or designer shoes—it was gold lacquer. A discreet envelope. Glossy. Embossed.

One by one, students opened their lockers to find it: a card from the Board of Patrons.

Gasps and squeals echoed down the corridors like a symphony of privilege. The Annual Gala. The crown jewel of Elite High's social calendar. An invitation was more than an event. It was acknowledgment. Legacy. It whispered: You belong.

Veronica's locker opened with a quiet click. Amid her neatly arranged books, one such envelope lay poised like a challenge. Her brows lifted—not in surprise, but in something closer to curiosity.

She picked it up.

The thick gold paper shimmered beneath the morning light. Her thumb traced the watermark—a silver dragon coiled beneath her name.

Miss Veronica Lin.Not Amy. Just Veronica.

Deliberate. Precise.

The Board of Patrons didn't make clerical errors.

They made statements.

She slid a manicured fingernail beneath the seal and opened it. A single card, black and gold, was nestled inside. The ink shimmered like oil across silk.

You are cordially invited to the Annual Gala of the Board of Patrons.Location: The Ferris EstateDate: October 14th

But there was more.

Tucked into the curve of the card, a smaller slip of ivory paper slipped into her hand. Veronica's fingers curled around it before any curious eyes could notice.

Her gaze swept the hallway. No one was watching.

Still, her spine stiffened.

She slipped the note into her skirt pocket and walked away, her heels clicking like punctuation marks on marble.

Later – Library, West Wing

The farthest corner of the antique fiction section was rarely visited. It smelled like dust and secrets. Veronica unfolded the slip with care.

The handwriting was looping. Feminine. Rushed.

The girl who vanished never left. Look for the silk lining.

Veronica stilled.

Her breath didn't hitch. Her heartbeat didn't race.

But her thoughts snapped into place like knives finding their sheaths.

The note wasn't referring to her.

It was about Alexis Wu, the student who vanished last semester. Pretty. Promising. Gone without a trace.

The school had moved on with impressive speed. The administration dismissed it as a family relocation. But those in the shadows whispered darker things.

And now… someone wanted her to look deeper.

Veronica stared at the words again.

Silk lining.

A clue?

Or a test?

Either way, she knew one thing.

The gala wasn't just about velvet gowns and champagne toasts.

It was a trap. Or a revelation.

Possibly both.

She tucked the slip back into her pocket, eyes cold.

Let them watch. She was watching, too.

Later That Day – Student Council Wing

The buzz around the gala had reached fever pitch.

Girls planned gowns. Boys booked luxury cars. Names were being weighed and paired, alliances formed with a smile and a smile alone.

When Veronica entered the council lounge, the shift was instant.

Where once there were snubs and sideways glances, there were now cautious nods. Whispered greetings. One girl even offered her a seat.

Veronica didn't sit.

She didn't need permission. Not anymore.

At the end of the hallway, leaning against the glass like he owned it, was Lucas.

He didn't speak until she was standing beside him.

"I take it you got one."His voice was quiet. But his eyes—storm-gray eyes—missed nothing.

Veronica nodded once. "They used my real name."

Lucas straightened. "Not a mistake, then."

"No. It was intentional." Her voice was calm, but her words were flint.

He regarded her. "Someone vouched for you."

"Someone's playing a deeper game."

Lucas's jaw ticked. "And you're going."

"I have to."

His silence was sharp-edged. Then: "You can't go alone."

She raised a brow, amused. "Protective, are we?"

"No," he said without missing a beat. "Strategic. The optics matter. They'll watch who you arrive with."

Her smile was faint. "Then are you volunteering?"

Before he could answer, a familiar voice chimed in like poisoned honey.

"Well, well, looks like the Board's standards are rising."

Veronica turned.

Theo Yan sauntered toward them, all swagger and charm. His school uniform was tailored to perfection, jacket thrown over one shoulder like a runway model pretending not to care.

"Lin," he said, flashing a grin. "You're not going solo, are you? That'd be criminal."

Veronica gave him a long, cool look. "Why? Planning to rescue me?"

Theo mock-bowed. "It would be my honor."

Lucas's posture stiffened beside her.

The air turned charged.

Veronica could feel it—the invisible tug-of-war. Theo, bold and infuriating. Lucas, silent but seething.

She turned slightly, eyes glinting. "And what makes you think I need rescuing?"

Theo leaned in. "Because I know how to throw a proper gala after-party."

Lucas took a step forward.

"Back off," he said quietly.

Theo chuckled. "Easy, soldier. Just offering the lady some fun."

"She doesn't need fun," Lucas snapped. "She needs safety."

"I need neither," Veronica interjected, voice smooth as silk. "But I accept the offer to consider."

She gave Theo a small nod, then turned fully back to Lucas.

The hallway emptied behind them.

"You're not going with him," Lucas said darkly.

She raised a brow. "Jealous?"

"Yes."

It was the honesty in his voice that silenced her.

No teasing. No denial. Just a fact.

Veronica's heart thudded once, hard.

She smiled softly this time. Almost… touched.

"Don't worry," she murmured. "I only go to war with allies."

Lucas leaned in, his voice brushing her ear.

"Then let me be your shield. Not your shadow."

That Night – Lin Estate

The official invitation sat untouched on her vanity, reflecting the moonlight like a cursed promise.

But that wasn't what held her attention.

A second envelope waited by her bed.

Unmarked. Black.

No courier. No seal.

Someone had placed it inside the estate's front gate. Quietly. Personally.

Veronica's fingers trembled as she opened it—not from fear, but from recognition.

Photographs spilled into her lap.

Grainy. Surveillance-style. High angles from rooftops or alleys.

Her face stared back at her from each one.

But it wasn't Veronica Lin, the heiress.

It was Amy Lin. The weak. The broken. The girl everyone thought had died once already.

In the pictures, she stood in an alley. Shadows clung to her like memories.

She was speaking to a man.

Tall. Lean. Leather coat. Tension curled in his spine even in the still image.

Bastian Corvo.

Her former lieutenant.

One of her fiercest, most loyal captains from her first life—the one she'd trusted with blood, not words.

The photos showed them exchanging something. A flash drive. A folded map. A whisper of truth in dangerous hands.

To most, it would look like a deal.

To the wrong person, it would look like betrayal.

Then came the final photo.

Her face.

Cold. Unmasked. Regal and ruthless.

Her past peeking through like a ghost through silk.

Veronica exhaled slowly.

At the bottom of the envelope, one final note in that same looping handwriting:

You're not the only ghost who rose. See you at the gala.

She stared at it for a long time.

Then, without blinking, she reached for a matchstick.

The photos curled in flame. Paper turned to ash.

But the message had already seared itself into her mind.

This gala wasn't a social climb.

It was war.

And someone wanted her crown before she reclaimed it.