That night, Ella couldn’t sleep.
The house was silent except for the whisper of the wind. She wandered onto the veranda for air—and froze.
Out in the garden stood Don Armando, beneath the pale moonlight. He seemed to be removing something from around his neck.
Ella squinted—and her blood ran cold.
The skin on his face was peeling away.
She gasped, covering her mouth in horror.
Beneath the layer of false flesh was not an old man’s face, but that of a young man—handsome, strong-jawed, and startlingly familiar.
“My God…” she whispered, trembling. “What is this?”
The man turned sharply, startled to see her. He rushed toward her, his voice gentle but urgent.
“Ella, wait—don’t be afraid.”
“Who are you?!” she cried, backing away.
He hesitated, then slowly removed the rest of the mask.
And there, standing before her, was Ethan Vergara—the true CEO of the company owned by Don Armando.
“I’m Ethan,” he said quietly. “I used the name and disguise of Don Armando because I wanted to know you… not as a rich man, but as myself.”
