Masked In Nobility: Secrets Of Mrs. Chavez

Upon receiving Winona’s text, Layla felt a fresh wave of anxiety. After all, this was her first time participating in a murder. She wasn’t the one getting her hands dirty, but being involved in such a scheme as an accomplice was terrifying.

However, thoughts of Winona’s words and a sideways glance at Yvette’s flawless face reignited the jealousy burning within her. A person like Yvette didn’t belong in Seacrity.

Layla was supposed to be the city’s future socialite, and Yvette’s presence was an obstacle. With renewed resolve, she steeled herself.

As Yvette continued playing on her phone, her voice was cold and detached. “This isn’t the road to the villa.”

Layla tightened her grip on her purse, forcing a confident tone. “Um, it’s a shortcut. You haven’t been in Seacrity long, so you wouldn’t know–this way is faster.”

The driver, aware of the deception, felt a twinge of fear. He knew they weren’t headed toward any villa. Layla had instructed him to drive to an abandoned factory on the outskirts. He had no idea why Layla was lying to this girl.

And he had heard rumors about Layla’s dark past–like the time she bullied a girl so relentlessly that the poor girl ended up jumping off a building. Layla’s parents had covered it up, but the driver couldn’t shake his unease.

Taking a risk, the driver muttered, “Ms. Chambers, maybe this road isn’t ideal. Perhaps we should take a different route?*

Layla didn’t expect this lousy driver to mess up her plans. She glared daggers at him. “What are you saying? Just drive. I say it’s a shortcut, so it is. One more word, and I’ll dock your pay for the month.”

Yvette glanced up, catching the driver’s worried gaze through the mirror, his silent signals not lost on her. Calmly, she said, “Keep driving.”

With a resigned sigh, the driver pressed on, deeply uneasy about whatever was awaiting them at the factory.

After another fifteen minutes, the black Jeep finally pulled up in front of the abandoned structure.

The deserted factory loomed eerily, surrounded by tall, wild grass, casting shadows that seemed to reach out in the daylight. The decayed building had a sinister air, even making the driver a full–grown man–feel a chill run down his spine.

Layla hadn’t seen the location before and was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Winona to pick a place so creepy, and now she couldn’t bring herself to look at Yvette.

The web of lies she’d spun unraveled completely, and the reality of the situation was far from what she’d imagined. Yvette opened the door and stepped out, glancing back at the nervous Layla. Her voice was calm, unhurried. “We’re here. Come on out.”

Layla froze. She thought, ‘Isn’t Yvette supposed to be scared?‘ Instead, it seemed as if Yvette had brought her here. Layla felt a surge of bewilderment–who was leading whom here?

Layla would never guess that Yvette was all too familiar with places like this. She’d been to dozens, if not hundreds, of abandoned sites more terrifying than this one–some even used as dumping grounds, littered with bones. Compared to those, this place felt almost like home.

Layla was still in a daze when Yvette walked straight to the factory entrance. Once Layla snapped out of it, she quickly followed, surprised that Winona chose such a place,

Wearing high heels, she managed just a couple of steps before she started swearing under her breath.

Yvette stood at the entrance with her hands in her pockets, looking up at the worn–out sign on the dilapidated factory. The name had eroded beyond recognition, leaving only the words “Chemical Plant” barely visible.

When Layla finally caught up, she stammered, “The, uh… the dessert chef…”

Realizing there was no way to continue the charade, Layla dropped the pretense. “Listen, Yvette, I’ll be honest. Someone else wants to meet you here. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll head inside on your own.”Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Her tone dripped with insincere concern as if she were doing Yvette a favor.

Unfazed, Yvette strolled further into the factory.

Layla gritted her teeth and followed behind Yvette, but regardless of how fast she walked, she couldn’t catch up to Yvette, who always kept some distance ahead.

Once inside, the spacious factory revealed itself–a two–story expanse with rusted machinery scattered around, relics of a long–forgotten era.

The dim lighting cast shadows over a group of roughly fifty burly men clad in black tank tops, their arms tattooed with dragon insignias, each at least six feet tall.

Yvette surveyed the group with a smirk and an air of nonchalance about her. Fifty men to her it was almost insulting. She hadn’t had a good workout in ages. If these were the best they could muster, she might as well let them bring more.

Yvette said nothing, her eyes scanning the area, calculating. Free practice dummies weren’t easy to come by, after all.

Layla quickly dashed towards them as soon as she saw the crowd, forgetting all about her foot pain.

Meanwhile, Yvette glanced up, her dark eyes narrowed, an icy edge glinting in them. She looked at the men with a chillingly genuine suggestion.

“This is all you’ve got? Maybe you should call for backup.”

After all, this was an once–in–a–lifetime opportunity, and she hoped they would seize it.

The fifty or so men in black exchanged wary glances, their mouths twitching in disbelief. They wondered, ‘Is she serious? Does she think she isn’t in enough trouble already in this situation?‘

One of the men, evidently their leader, stepped forward, removing his sunglasses to reveal a crude, leering expression. His eyes roamed over Yvette, lingering in a way that made his intentions clear.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and wicked thoughts crept into his mind.

“Listen up, lady,” he sneered, “we’re here on Ms. Chambers‘ orders. Play nice, surrender, and she’ll let you keep your life. You’re a woman–we don’t want to get rough.”

Yvette’s smirk widened, tinged with irony. She thought, ‘Play nice? Surrender? Spare her life?‘ She couldn’t recall hearing those words in her life.

Yvette tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting over the group before settling back on Layła. “Ms. Chambers? Maybe the real Ms. Chambers should show herself.”

Layla froze, her face betraying a flicker of panic. She couldn’t help but feel Yvette knew Winona was the mastermind.

In an exaggerated attempt to cover her shock, Layla raised her voice. “What are you talking about? I am Ms. Chambers! Who else would you be looking for? I was just messing with you, and there’s no one else. I just can’t stand you!”