CHAPTER 518: BEFORE THE MASK CAME OFF (PART THREE)

Silas signed the contract, his handwriting neat and precise. When he handed the papers back, the lawyer informed him that the sub had not agreed yet.

Apparently, the other side was more cautious. They had used a legal representative and wanted to check the contract thoroughly.

Silas waited, intrigued by the other person’s cautious behaviour. Good, that meant BashfulWallFlower was not connected to the people behind this app.

Half an hour later, the other person finally signed the contract. The lawyer handed him the room number and passcode.

After passing a few doors, Silas reached the designated suite. He turned the handle and pushed open the hotel room. The faint click echoed softly through the quiet space. His footsteps were unhurried as he stepped inside. He closed the door behind him with a smooth motion, the lock slipping into place with a click. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes caught on the figure sitting on the edge of the sofa. For a brief moment, something rare flickered across Silas’s usually calm face: surprise.

It was her.

The same girl he had seen on the street. The one who had saved the young boy. The silver hair, now tucked under a cap, was unmistakable.

So she was the BashfulWallFlower?

If he had not seen her earlier, hadn’t watched the quick, steady reflexes of her rescue, he might have been fooled by the girl. He might have believed the timid act she was putting on now. Anyone else would have. Her posture screamed nervousness, her eyes darted toward him and quickly away. She looked like a small animal that had been trapped, all tight shoulders and trembling fingers. A perfect imitation of someone with social anxiety disorder, afraid of being scrutinised, judged, or embarrassed, moving like a trembling bird.

But no. Silas knew better. She was hiding. Why exactly, though? Why was the need for this persona?

The girl looked startled to see him. Her wide eyes froze for a heartbeat. Why the surprise? Did she not expect him to show up?

Silas let the silence hang between them, studying her from head to toe. He took in the way her body stiffened, the small tremor in her hands, the way her injured palm kept brushing nervously against her skirt.

His gaze drifted to the bandage, noting the uneven wrap, not a professional’s work.

Let’s see if she knew him or not, he thought to himself.

"Let me take a look at it," he said curtly.

She blinked. "Huh?" Her voice came out hoarse.

The girl seemed a bit slow, not like someone trained to trap him.

Silas’s eyes flicked down. He raised one gloved hand, pointing toward her right hand. "Your palm," he said.

"Oh," she murmured dumbly and stretched her hand.

Silas watched her carefully. Well. She knew he was a doctor for sure. Who would not at least ask why before offering her hand? As if it was expected of him to say that? A normal person, what could he do with a bandaged, injured hand?

Silas stepped closer, silent, unhurried. His shadows fell over her as he leaned down. He wanted to see what her next move was. Would she lunge at him? Flirt? Pretending to be bashful while he held her injured hand?

But the moment the cold leather of his glove brushed against her skin, she pulled back her hand so fast the motion nearly made her body hit the back of the sofa. "No, that’s okay," she blurted, voice higher than usual.

Silas paused, gloved fingers hanging in the air before he quietly lowered them. He didn’t insist on looking. He simply turned and took a seat across from her, lowering himself into the sofa without touching anything.

By sitting down, Silas had approved of her. She was not a professional. Too silly. Too transparent. She had given herself away right from the start.

Silas despised people who tried to act clever but lacked the subtlety to pull it off. He preferred only two types of people: the cunning ones, those who made his adrenaline race. And the clueless, naive ones who never realised they were being played. Toying with them was entertaining. Not the in-between types, the ones who thought they were clever, but whose flaws grated on his nerves.

And she belonged to the naive category.

His reasons told him this girl had come after him. But what was her purpose? Was there someone else ordering her?

He watched her rub her hands together, restless. The silence stretched, but Silas didn’t mind the silence. With each passing minute, the girl showed more of her true colour.

Silas was an expert when it came to mind playing. A little attention, then sudden indifference, that was how he kept people off balance, questioning every word and move they made.

"Miss, may I ask why you picked me?" Silas asked finally.

She dropped his gaze, fingers twisting together on her lap. "You seemed... like the only one interested in me," she whispered. "No one else DM’d me..." Her tone came out shy and small.

Silas scanned the girl. The reason she offered was a half-cooked one. With the way she had behaved in the app, of course, no one would DM her, fearing to scare her more.

And what he had understood by now, on that app, everything was built on control.

The Doms had their hierarchy, their silent agreement. They didn’t chase random subs without approval. Every pairing followed protocol. Every interaction was monitored.

Because he was new that they had let him go after her; otherwise, he wasn’t allowed.

After new subs signed confidentiality contracts, there were internal meetings, lists, and silent auctions where dominant users chose their matches. Those subs were just playthings passed from one hand to another. Disposable. Controlled.

So... who was she? If she knew nothing, why use this app to seek him out?

"Tell me your red flags," Silas said, tone flat but firm. "I’ll see if I can comply."

He needed more information on her to judge the motive.