The ballroom of the Fisalia estate is a glittering jewel of wealth and excess. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, casting soft, golden light over the polished marble floors. The scent of rare orchids and expensive perfume mingles in the air, while the velvet notes of the live band’s waltz reverberate through the sprawling hall.

Everywhere you look, laughter glitters off diamond necklaces and champagne flutes. Nobility, tycoons, and dangerous charmers glide past in gowns and tailored suits, their masks of civility hiding untold secrets.

You lift your glass of champagne—dry, chilled to perfection—and savor the moment, just as the music shifts into a sultry rhythm. That's when she appears.

Out of the crowd, a woman steps forward like a secret being whispered into the room. Her eyes gleam beneath the shadow of a feathered mask, and her smile is more dangerous than it is inviting.

Cantarella: “Enjoying the band?”

Her voice is low, amused, with a hint of something unspoken—like she knows a game is about to begin, and only you can see the first move.