Chapter 397

Chapter 397:
She glanced down, checking the screen under the table.
It was a message from Oakley. “Something feels wrong. What is Serena doing? Should we stop her?”
She thought for a moment and replied, “Whatever she’s planning, we stick to the original plan. This time, we’ll drag both Serena and Charles down.”
“Still… I have a really bad feeling about this.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Not that. Just… something feels off.”
Vivian was about to reply again when her gaze shifted toward Brandon in the audience.
He was frowning, his eyes fixed on the stage.
That strange sense of familiarity had returned.
From the moment he first saw this masked woman, he’d felt it.
Who was she?
“Ding!”
The sculptor’s chisel struck again.
Serena raised the microphone to her forehead. Just like that, the plaster there began to fall.
Now, only the space from her eyebrows to the tip of her nose remained hidden.
Every gaze in the recording studio locked onto Serena as she commanded the stage, Vivian’s eyes among them, burning with intensity.
What had begun as Oakley’s solitary unease now rippled through Vivian’s consciousness—something about the face beneath that mask stirred memories she couldn’t quite grasp.
Millie moved with liquid grace across the stage, her fingers working deliberately at the mask’s edges, exposing fragments of her true face with theatrical precision. Through the remaining plaster, her eyes sought Brandon’s distant figure in the sea of spectators.
His brow had creased into worried lines, confusion clouding his expression like storm clouds gathering overhead.
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Millie’s mouth curved into a knowing smile beneath the crumbling disguise.
The charade had reached its final act.
Her gaze dropped momentarily before her right hand rose with deliberate slowness.
The sharp crack of splitting plaster sliced through the hushed auditorium. Half the mask exploded into powder, fragments dancing away on the evening breeze. This content belongs to.net
Brandon’s eyes contracted to pinpoints, recognition dawning across his features with brutal clarity.
Only one delicate shard clung to Serena’s face now, the last barrier between truth and revelation.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as awareness began its slow burn.
Brandon’s mouth compressed into a bloodless line. His stare burned into the figure onstage, torn between desperate denial and the terrifying need for confirmation.
Serena remained motionless, her head tilted downward in a moment of perfect stillness. Her right hand moved with gentle finality. The last fragment of her plaster mask surrendered to gravity.
.
.
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