The Game of Masks and True Identity — Novel

About

In a world where love and betrayal intertwine like a deadly game, Phoebe Dunn finds herself trapped in a gilded cage, a pawn in the ruthless game of Cade Oliver, a crime boss with a seductive charm and a heart of ice. When a reckless night turns into an unthinkable pregnancy, Phoebe's life spirals into chaos. Cade’s promise of wealth and comfort feels like a cruel joke, especially as she overhears his chilling plans for her and their unborn child.

But Phoebe isn’t just a victim; she’s a survivor, and she’s not afraid to wield the knife—figuratively and literally. In the shadows of betrayal, a dangerous dance begins, where every choice comes with a price. When she discovers Cade's hidden foster sister, Margaret, the stakes rise higher. Can Phoebe navigate the treacherous waters of love, revenge, and survival, or will she become just another casualty in Cade's ruthless empire?

As their lives spiral deeper into darkness, both will have to confront the masks they wear and the true identities that lie beneath. When love becomes a weapon, who will emerge unscathed?

The Game of Masks and True IdentityChapter 1

Phoebe's POV

The year I partied the hardest, I was reckless and selfish, sleeping around without a care. One night, I made the mistake of crawling into the bed of a crime boss, Cade Oliver. I thought it would be another fling. But I didn’t expect him to want more, to keep coming back for me.

When I found out I was pregnant, he had me locked away.

By accident, I overheard a conversation between him and the butler.

“Once she delivers her baby, she’s gonna be useless,” he said. “With her baby in our hands, we can dispose of her stubborn old family and take everything the Dunns own.”

Upon hearing that, rage burned up inside me. So while he slept, I stabbed one of his eyes.

Humiliated and furious, he smashed my legs again and again so I couldn’t run. Then he ordered doctors and caregivers to attend to my every need.

One night, I used a hidden table knife to cut open my five-month belly.

“Phoebe, do you want to die?” he snarled, his eyes rimmed red, and he lifted me up, carrying me toward the car to the hospital.

But I smiled, grabbed his hand, and thrust the knife toward his other eye.

“No,” I said. “We’ll die together.”

——