Behind The masks

Zara's POV

Beep. Straight to voicemail again.

I stared at my screen, my thumb hovering, heart heavy. For weeks now, I'd been trying to reach Cassian, my boyfriend. My everything... or so I thought.

If he were hurt, I'd understand. If he were dead, I'd know. But he was alive and active, liking photos, posting cryptic quotes, showing off those cars and expensive wristwatches on social media. So he ghosted me?

A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it down and tossed the phone into my bag. The subway ride to work blurred by, the usual screeching rails and stale air doing nothing to shake the growing unease clawing at my chest.

As I stepped into daylight, my feet fell into their routine rhythm, the ten-minute walk to my restaurant. The only place I own, and I'm determined to grow it into an empire.

Ahead, a blur of yellow vests and dust clouds choked the morning air, my footsteps slowed, and my breath hitched. The street smelled of cement and ruin, they were demolishing my restaurant. My legs suddenly moved on their own, sprinting toward the scene.

"Stop! What the hell are you doing?! STOP!" I shouted, coughing on the dust as I fought my way through the chaos.

A man in a hard hat, the site supervisor maybe, stepped in front of me. His grip was firm as he caught my arm mid-lunge.

"Who the hell are you?" he snapped.

"I should be asking you that!" I spat, yanking my arm free. "I'm Zara. This is my restaurant!"

"Was," he said coldly.

That single word knocked the breath out of me. He turned, reached into the front seat of a dusty pickup, and shoved a manila folder into my hands.

My fingers trembled as I fumbled it open. Legal print blurred behind my stinging eyes. I flipped through pages until my gaze landed on a name: Transfer of Ownership to Cassian Blackwell.

My signature stared back at me, undeniably mine, but I never signed this. A chill ran through me, my heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Cassian hadn't just ghosted me, he'd stolen everything. With trembling fingers, I yanked my phone from my bag and dialed Cassian. The man I trusted. The man whose name was now stamped across a document that gutted my world. I held my breath, praying he'd answer this time.

Beep. Voicemail. Each ring pierced deeper than the last until all that echoed in my ear was that robotic voice: "Please leave a message..."

I turned to the man, my voice cracking like glass. "Please, sir. There has to be some kind of mistake. Just... just give me a minute to fix this."

He didn't even look at me. His attention had already shifted to a clipboard, as if I were invisible.

I stumbled away, heart pounding, and flagged down an Uber. The moment I slid into the backseat, my nails tapped relentlessly against my thigh, matching the