The night smelled like roses and rich lies.
Valentina stepped out of the black Aston Martin, her red silk gown hugging every curve like a whispered promise. A golden mask concealed half her face, but her lips—painted the color of blood—were unmistakably hers.
Sofia Herrera's masquerade ball was in full swing, the villa in Polanco lit up like Versailles on cocaine. Musicians played violins beneath crystal chandeliers. Waiters floated by with champagne flutes. Every guest wore a mask—but Valentina? She wore purpose.
This wasn't a party.It was a battlefield in silk.
The Queen and the Heiress
Sofia Herrera was elegance weaponized. Dressed in black velvet with a serpent-shaped hairpin glinting above her ear, she greeted guests like a duchess.
When her eyes landed on Valentina, something flickered. Recognition? Curiosity? Rivalry?
She approached with a champagne flute in each hand.
"You must be... Delilah Cortez?" Sofia said smoothly, offering a glass. "Alejandro Reyes speaks highly of you."
Valentina smiled behind her golden mask. "Only the best lies."
Sofia's laugh was low and dangerous. "Then I like you already."
Two heiresses.Two empires.Neither knowing they shared blood... yet.
The Dance
The ballroom's marble floors became a stage.
Valentina allowed herself to be swept into a dance by a masked partner whose cologne was all too familiar—Diego Fuentes.
"You shouldn't be here," he murmured as they moved in sync, perfectly rehearsed for a show they'd never practiced.
"Neither should you," she replied, lips brushing against his jaw.
"I know who you are."
"I know who you think you are."
They spun. They smiled. The music masked the tension crackling between them like lightning held by silk.
Diego's grip tightened. "You're playing with fire."
Valentina leaned close. "I am the fire."
A Message in Gold
Back near the fountain, one of Xavier's most trusted men dropped to the floor, convulsing—champagne flute shattered beside him.
Gasps. Screams. Security surged.
Sofia turned sharply. "What the hell—?"
Valentina was already walking away, red dress trailing like spilled wine.
On the corpse's cuff, tucked beneath his sleeve, lay a tiny gold butterfly.
Her calling card had entered the palace.
Lucia Watches
From the terrace, Lucia Ortega lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"She's bolder than I expected," she said to the man beside her.
Xavier didn't respond. He just stared down at the golden pin retrieved from the scene. His mask was in his hand now, forgotten.
"This isn't a declaration," he said finally. "It's a seduction."
Lucia's lips curled. "You always did like dangerous women."
The Scarlet Queen Ascends
By the time the night ended, Valentina had secured two business partnerships, gathered intel from a drunk lieutenant, and whispered a threat into Sofia Herrera's ear so carefully disguised as flattery, even Sofia laughed at it.
No bullets were fired.
No blood was spilled.
But when the headlines hit the morning news—Cartel Lieutenant Dies Mysteriously at Elite Gala—Mexico's underworld would know:
La Reina Escarlata had danced into Xavier's house... and walked out untouched.