Page 178 of Sinful Lies

My fingers itched at my side, empty without hers in them.

I moved—cutting through the crowd with purpose, my jaw set tight as I scanned the room.

She was nowhere in sight.

The ballroom, with all its gold and velvet excess, suddenly felt suffocating. The violins hummed something dramatic in the background, people laughed a little too loudly, and I caught glimpses of feathers, lace, and painted eyes that meant nothing to me.

Where did you go, Jade?

My hand itched to pull out my phone again, but I didn’t.

Instead, I slipped through the crimson curtains lining the ballroom and into the quieter sculpture room.

The change hit me instantly. The air was cooler, the crowd thinner, voices softer—low murmurs, like secrets shared in shadows.

People lingered in small groups here, sipping champagne as they admired the sculptures. Even the marble statues were dressed for the occasion, Venetian masks perched on cold faces, their stone gazes as lifeless as the men who’d put them there.

But I didn’t stop to admire them.

The flicker of candlelight guided me as I walked deeper into the room until I reached it:Samson and Delilah, brought all the way from Italy.

I stopped.

The sculpture loomed in front of me—Samson’s body draped in defeat, his strength stripped away, the betrayal carved into every perfect line of his ruined form.

Delilah stood poised, beautiful and merciless, her hand hovering above him like a silent goddess.

Their story was simple.

She had loved him. Or at least had pretended to.

And when it had mattered most, she’d betrayed him—had sold his secret for silver, and had let the world tear him apart.

A man so strong, brought to nothing because he had put his trust and love in the wrong woman.

I stared at it for a long moment, something heavy settling in my chest.

“Lazzio.”

The voice came from behind me, and I didn’t bother to turn right away.

“Great night,” Greg began, his champagne swirling in the glass, the faint fizzing sound underscoring his smugness. “Congrats on the party. Though… I heard the masks are all falling tonight.”

I turned to him. “Is that so?”

“That’s the rumor.”

My eyes landed back on Samson and Delilah—power undone by love, betrayal immortalized in marble.

“They say every rumor has a thread of truth, Greg.” I took a step closer, towering over him. “And tonight, your mask isn’t just falling. It’s shattering. Along with you.”

He took a measured sip of champagne. “Or maybe yours, Lazzio.”

He gestured lazily to the sculpture.

“Betrayal is the cruelest of acts. That’s why no one should trustanyone—not their allies, their lovers, not even their family.” His eyes locked onto mine, darker now. “That’s why your parents should’ve never trusted me.”

A wave of nausea coiled in my gut as his words dragged me back—back to that fucking basement.

---