The Heiress Behind the Mask

“What do you mean it’s impossible?” Demitri snapped, his patience running thin.

The voice on the other end of the line was calm, almost too calm for Demitri’s liking. “It’s out of our hands, sir. The video is everywhere. We traced the source… and it’s a wealthy heiress.”

Demitri froze. “A what?”

“An heiress. Seems like she’s got a lot of influence. She released the video, and we can’t get it taken down.”

Demitri’s mind was racing. A wealthy heiress? Who the hell could it be?

He set the phone down, rubbing his temples.

Suddenly, his mind reeled back to Ashley. He thought back to everything—the lies, the manipulation, the way he used her.

Now, all he felt was pity for Ashley.

“Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got to make this right.”

He quickly grabbed his phone again, dialing Ashley’s number.

Ring. Ring.

Nothing.

“Pick up, Ashley,” he muttered under his breath.

It went to voicemail.

“Ashley, please. Just pick up,” he pleaded. He tried again. And again. Still nothing.

He slammed the phone down in frustration. Where the hell is she?

His thoughts were interrupted when the man he’d sent to clean up the mess called him back.

“Got an info, Demitri,” the man said, his voice low. “But we’ve got a problem. She is the heiress to the Donaldson’s. She’s not gonna talk unless you make it worth her while. I have her number.”

“Donaldson’s secret heiress?” Demitri repeated, still processing what was happening. “How did she know about me or Elena?”

The man hesitated. “I don’t know exactly. But if you want her to pull that video, you need to call her. She’s got power, Demitri. You don’t want to mess with her.”

Demitri cursed under his breath. So now I have to beg a stranger for mercy? This was all getting out of hand. But he couldn’t let the video destroy everything.

“Fine. Get me the number,” he said, already resigned to doing whatever it took.

The phone clicked off, and a message came through almost immediately. A phone number.

Demitri stared at it for a moment before dialing it.

Please, just answer.

The phone rang three times before the line connected.

“Hello?” a cool, familiar voice answered.

His heart dropped. He’d heard that voice before.

“Ashley?” he asked, his voice cracking with disbelief.

A small pause followed, before the line went dead.

Then it hits him.

Emerald was Ashley. Ashley was Emerald.