Mystery..

Blood. Blood. Everywhere—blood.

My abdomen was soaked in crimson, sticky and warm. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can’t even feel anything anymore, except the unbearable pain in my lower body that refuses to fade.

The ceiling stares back at me—cold, lifeless. I wish it would end. All of it. But I know better. Endings are a mercy I was never meant for.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Approaching.

My heart started to race—not with hope. With horror.

And just like that, whatever sliver of strength I had left... shattered.

I jolted upright, drenched in sweat. Gasping. Dazed.

Another night. Another nightmare.

Sleep? Not in my luck tonight either.

I lay back against the pillows for a few seconds, my pulse still frantic. The warmth of my room offered no comfort.

Pushing the blankets aside, I walked to the balcony, barefoot and bare-armed. The icy Moscow air slapped my skin, a cruel reminder that I’m still alive.

Snowflakes fell like ashes—silent, gentle, mocking.

But that’s when I saw it. Again. That shadow near the tree.

Unmoving. Watching. Waiting.

Not a dream. Not a trick of the mind. I know what I saw.

Someone’s there. And they’ve been watching me for a long, long time.

I raised my hands deliberately with a grace and flipped the shadow off with all the elegance of a Russian ballerina giving the middle finger. Graceful. Precise. Undeniably pissed.

I stormed back into my room, slamming the balcony doors shut behind me. If that creep wanted a front-row seat to my insomnia, fine. Let him watch me be bored to death.

Sleep was out of the question now. Again.

So… if I can’t sleep, might as well stalk someone.

And no—don’t give me that look.

I’m not creepy. I don’t stalk everyone.

Just the ones who dare to catch my attention… or pose a threat to the Russian Mafia. Which, let’s be honest, is practically flirting.

My family—the Singhanias—aren’t just one of the wealthiest syndicates in Europe. We’ve built our empire on code, on algorithms, on systems that can rip through firewalls like tissue paper. We see you before you even know you exist.

And tonight, my mind drifted—again—to him.

The masked stranger.

The one who disappeared the moment I twirled, as if he was never there.

That bastard.

I hate mysteries. I solve them for sport.

But for the first time, I actually wanted to talk. To know more. To… unravel.

It wasn’t hard to get the guest list of the masquerade ball. Half the hosts owe my family favors they’ll never repay.

In minutes, I had the complete list on my screen.

Filter: Male. Age range: 20 to 30. Status: Active attendee.

Results: 72.

Ugh.

Now, the real work begins.

I sipped my espresso, cracked my knuckles, and dove in—one profile at a time. Face recognition, body scans, gait analysis—every tool I had at my disposal, I used.

Thirty minutes in. Nothing.

An hour later. Still nothing.

He wasn’t on the list.

I leaned back in my chair, brows furrowed.

Either he wasn’t invited… or he didn’t want to be found.

And that? That only made me want to find him more.

“Who the hell are you?” I whispered to the screen, eyes narrowing.

Because whoever he was… he was hiding for a reason. And now, he had my full attention. God help him.

As I closed my laptop shut, my phone pinged with a message. I half mindedly opened my phone only to see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number:

“Be careful where you dig, dolcezza, you might just uncover a grave.”

“Not like I am complaining, I am enjoying the attention.”

Fucking Asshole.

Who is this man?

I started to trace back the IP but it bounced back through untraceable dark web.

I logged into my own dark web account and tried to trace the IP again but it lead to a song.

The video:

A chill ran down my spine as I remembered the words of the masked man from the ball “Someone who shouldn't want you.”

What does he meant by that?

♡♡♡♡♡♡⁠♡♡⁠♡♡♡⁠♡

Hey lovely readers,

Hope you liked the chapter and Pratishtha's intellect and obsession with being in control.

Will she be able to find out who is this masked stranger or would this always remain a mystery?

✿ Your Author. Viktoriya