Tensions are simmering, alliances shifting, and vengeance is being drawn like a blade beneath silk gloves.
---
Back at the balcony, Ochieng clenched the photo in his hand, veins tightening in his forearm. Betrayal had a scent—and tonight, it smelled like roses dipped in deceit. The ballroom below danced on, unaware that the lion above had awakened.
He didn't confront Zahra. No. That wasn't his style. Ochieng believed in slow revenge—poetic, precise, and untraceable.
He passed the envelope to Clara.
"Have this copied. And mailed anonymously… to Leon's board members."
Clara's eyes lit up. "With pleasure."
---
Meanwhile, Storm and Zahra had disappeared into the estate's secluded rose garden. Laughter echoed distantly behind them. But in the dimly lit path surrounded by thorns, everything grew sharper.
"I know why you're here," Zahra said, stopping beside a marble fountain. "You're not just here to dance."
Storm took off his mask. His face—sculpted jaw, faint stubble, wounded lips—looked tired but lethal.
"I came to burn a dynasty," he said. "But I didn't expect to see you in the middle of it."
Zahra turned away. "You should've stayed dead, Storm. This world... this city... it's hungrier than before."
He stepped closer, his voice low. "Then we feed it lies until it chokes."
Their lips were just inches apart—temptation and history rippling through the air. But Zahra pulled back.
"I can't be yours. Not tonight."
"Then don't be anyone's," he said. "Let's burn it all together."
--
Inside, Leon had just received a call from his assistant.
"They've seen the photo," the voice said. "Half the board is asking questions. Your stock dipped two points in the last hour."
He crushed the wine glass in his palm. Blood mixed with Merlot.
"Who sent it?" he asked, venom in his voice.
"Unknown," the assistant replied.
But Leon knew. Ochieng.
---
As chaos brewed, a sleek limo arrived outside. Out stepped Bianca Wekesa, 24, the only daughter of East Africa's most feared steel magnate.
Tall, coffee-toned skin, eyes like cold sapphires, wearing a backless diamond-studded gown that shimmered like shattered ice. Her family was worth over $180 billion.
She walked past the security like she owned the estate—because, in many ways, she could. Rumor had it she'd bought 10% of the Vancetti holdings just last month.
Tonight? She came hunting for Ochieng.
---
Back inside, Zahra returned to the ballroom and found herself face-to-face with Clara.
"Nice mask," Clara said with a smirk. "Too bad it doesn't cover betrayal."
Zahra froze.
"Photo. Leon. Kiss," Clara whispered. "You should've chosen your secrets more carefully."
"I didn't betray Ochieng."
Clara leaned in closer. "Then why does it feel so good watching you sweat?"
---
While the party raged, board members from three rival companies held a quiet meeting upstairs—each having received the same envelope.
What began as a masquerade was now a war declaration.
Storm, Zahra, Ochieng, Clara, Leon, and now Bianca—five dangerous players, each with hidden pasts and personal demons.
And outside the estate, a girl named Ivy, 20, from the dusty town of Eldale, stood watching the estate gates. She wasn't rich. She wasn't famous. But soon—they'd all know her name.
---