His Plump Mate (Book 1: The 'His' Series) novel Chapter 211

< Chapter 211 The Madam Tarot ‘s Choice

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Chapter 211 The Madam Tarot ‘s Choice

Cecilia’s pov

No. This woman couldn’t possibly be Cici.

The height, the build–all wrong.

Too sharp in the shoulders, too tall to be her.

Which could only mean… Mrs. Locke.

The woman who’d orchestrated Cici’s escape and stolen secrets from the Blood Moon Pack.

Now here she was, cloaked in couture and vengeance, turning this masquerade into a stage play with teeth.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as I scanned the masked figures surrounding us.

The masks weren’t just accessories–they were alibis.

Anyone could be hiding here.

Even Cici herself.

Drifting through the room like a ghost at her own funeral.

Yvonne caught the tension in our faces and leaned in, her voice tight and urgent.

“What? What is it? Did you two figure something out?”

Before Harper or I could respond, the spectacle at the front snapped the room back into

silence.

“Madam…”Mrs. Locke’s voice oozed theatrical menace as she towered over Luna Dora’s

trembling form.

“Would you care to share what I just told you?”

Though her grotesque mask hid her expression, I could feel her smiling–

not the kind that comforts, but the kind that corners.

The kind that says:I’ve already won.

Luna Dora’s mouth opened and closed, her voice strangled by something invisible.

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< Chapter 211 The Madam Tarot’s Choice

She looked like a fish gasping for air.

+25 Points

Mrs. Dahlia stepped in smoothly, all silken grace and veiled threat, with another woman at

her side.

They lifted Luna Dora gently, like handlers steadying a prized puppet.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Mrs. Dahlia cooed, her voice dipped in honey and arsenic.

“Madame Tarot keeps all secrets. Just tell our guests-was she accurate or not?”

“A-accurate,” Luna Dora stammered, her tone brittle as sugar glass.

She nodded, mechanical, desperate to keep her composure even as her foundation cracked

beneath her.

Her eyes darted, searching for an exit that wasn’t there.

The crowd, shaken but curious, began to stir–

a chorus of whispers rising like steam in a pressure cooker.

“She’s that good?”

“Total plant. Mrs. Dahlia probably hired her to impress the donors.”

“Please, it’s all hocus-pocus.”

“Oh, hush–just because science hasn’t explained it yet doesn’t mean it’s fake.”

“If you’re so sure it’s staged, why don’t you go next?”

The ballroom had turned into a live episode of society’s favorite sport: public humiliation, dressed in velvet and candlelight.

In any other situation, Harper would’ve marched up there herself, determined to expose the fraud.

Tonight, I grabbed her arm and held tight, silently begging her not to move.

She shot me a look that said: Relax. I’m impulsive, not suicidal.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Dahlia turned to the crowd, wearing a smile sharp enough to cut glass.

“Now then,” she said brightly. “Who would like to be next?”

Silence. The kind that doesn’t breathe–just waits.

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< Chapter 211 The Madam Tarot ‘s Choice

“Don’t be shy,” she pressed, her smile widening with performative warmth.

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“For the skeptics among us, let’s raise the stakes: whoever volunteers will have their fortune read in front of everyone–then remove their mask for all to see. A true test of Madame Tarot’s powers, wouldn’t you agree?”

The air went still, like the ballroom itself was holding its breath.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Because really–how many of these people had lives clean enough to survive a spotlight and a reveal?

And even if they did, no one wanted to be the evening’s main character in a room full of bored aristocrats and whisper-hungry socialites.

“Since no one’s feeling brave,” Mrs. Dahlia sighed, faux-regret dripping from every syllable, “Madame Tarot will have to choose her next subject herself.”

Mrs. Locke pivoted on her heel, her mask glinting as she zeroed in on The Real VIP

The poor woman looked like she might faint–hand at her throat, breath shallow, guiltless yet terrified.

But just as she began her approach, Mrs. Locke shifted direction.

She turned toward the crowd.

The sea of masks parted in silent panic, like the Red Sea fleeing its own secrets.

Guests stumbled back in heels and satin, desperate to avoid her gaze.

My friends and I moved too.

But to my horror–no matter where we stepped, she followed.

The whispers around us sharpened, slicing through the room like static.

“It’s them.”

“She helped that woman earlier–Mrs. Dahlia probably noticed.”

“She’s not from here. That’s never good.”

The local grapevine was already sprouting new vines, wrapping around our names before we could stop them.

f**k, I thought, heart hammering, as we split in different directions like prey under a spotlight.

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Chapter 211 The Madam Tarot’s Choice

Mrs. Locke stopped.

+25 Points

Then, slowly, with a grace that made it worse–she raised one long, bony finger and pointed.

At me.

The ballroom fell silent again.

It was the kind of silence usually reserved for verdicts.

Mrs. Dahlia’s smile turned razor-sharp as she gestured toward me, her hand fluttering like a queen summoning a jester.

Two masked attendants stepped forward from the shadows-too polite to be guards, too firm to be anything else.

“Don’t resist,” someone called out from the comfort of the crowd.

Probably the kind of person who thinks Russian roulette is edgy after a few drinks.

There was no way out of this.

I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and stepped forward with as much dignity as I could scrape together.

My mind raced. Should I strike first? Call their bluff?

Or let them show their hand before I play mine?

Author’s pov

Five minutes earlier, Tang had slipped through a side entrance of the ballroom.

When security stopped him, they explained the signal jammers were part of the tarot reading “experience”–a theatrical touch meant to heighten the mystique.

Tang had “politely” convinced the guards to let him pass.

He spotted the three women in the crowd, watched the beginning of the tarot spectacle unfold–candles flickering, the fortune-teller in dramatic silhouette like something off a late-night cable special–then stepped outside to report back.

“Alpha, everything seems normal,” Tang said into his earpiece. “Some psychic type says it’s for ambience. You know–candles, crystals, and communication blackouts.”

“Don’t be fooled by appearances,” Sebastian warned. “Keep her in your line of sight at all

times.”

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< Chapter 211 The Madam Tarol’s Choice

“Yes, Alpha.”

Tang ended the call and turned back toward the entrance. He reached for the door.

Locked.

His brows knitted. He jiggled the handle-no give.

A chill ran down his spine, the kind born not from temperature but instinct.

+25 Points

Sebastian had just ended the call when a thought struck him–sharp and cold.

If there was no signal inside, how could Tang have called him?

He pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine of the Jaguar responding with a deep growl.

Something wasn’t adding up.

His phone buzzed again. Caller ID: the contact he’d tasked with compiling the guest list.

“I’ve sent the information, Alpha,” the voice said. “But there’s one more thing you should know…”

A pause.

“Luna Regina is attending that masquerade tonight.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched.

The air in the cabin thickened.

His grip on the wheel tightened until the leather creaked.

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Chapter 212 Facing the Madame Tarot

+25 Points

Chapter 212 Facing the Madame Tarot

Cecilia’s pov

In a room full of masks and teeth, swinging blindly would only get me devoured faster.

Across the room, I caught sight of Luna Dora and The Real VIP.

Dora looked like she was bracing for a bomb to go off–probably worried I’d say something that would unravel the Blood Moon Pack further.

Regina, though… her concern felt real. Genuine. The kind you reserve for someone who threw themselves into the fire–for you.

I stood there calmly, prepared to play this twisted game.

I offered Mrs. Locke a smile that barely touched my eyes.

“Madame Tarot,” I said with forced lightness, “please be gentle with my secrets.”

Mrs. Locke circled me slowly, her movements deliberate, predatory in the way a lioness sizes up its next kill.

“A man-killer with a beautiful face,” she declared, her voice loud enough to carry. “Skilled in deception and manipulating hearts. You just deceived an innocent woman moments ago. I know your true purpose.”

Across the room, The Real VIP’s expression shifted–a flicker of uncertainty beneath her mask.

She was clearly replaying our conversation in her head.

True, I’d warned her about the golden mask and shared what I’d overheard in the hall.

But the phone signal issue? She’d already discovered that on her own.

Around us, whispers slithered through the crowd like snakes in tall grass–sharp, fast, and eager to bite.

Mrs. Locke had already terrified her first “volunteer” into collapse, and now she was turning her full theatrics on me.

Some guests had begun to recognize me beneath the mask.

But most had no idea who I was–and all of them were eager for a revelation.

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Chapter 212 Facing the Madame Tarot

A mask removed in shame would feed Denver’s social grapevine for weeks.

425 Points:

Tomorrow, this would be brunch-table bloodsport in every country club and charity board meeting in town.

Beside me, Harper tensed like a colled spring, ready to lunge if I gave the word–mutual destruction clearly an option she’d already accepted.

Yvonne clamped a hand over her mouth, visibly trembling but surprisingly strong for someone who usually wilted at the scent of conflict.

Strangely,Luna Dora didn’t look as gleeful as I’d expected,

She didn’t look like someone eager to watch me fall.

If anything, she looked like she wanted me to fight. To stand tall. To do to Mrs. Locke what I once did to her.

I took a breath and turned to face Mrs. Locke–not angry, not afraid. Just calm. Clear.

Unshaken.

“You’re way off base,” I said, voice steady. “Let’s start with this: what does ‘man-killer with a beautiful face’ even mean?

Are we really still pushing the tired idea that a woman’s beauty makes her dangerous? That’s not mysticism–that’s misogyny.

You might want to update your tarot deck, Madame.”

A few heads turned. A couple of muffled laughs.

“And ‘skilled in deception’? What deception? Am I in disguise? Wearing someone else’s

name?

Because I had a brief conversation with a woman–now suddenly I’ve manipulated her heart? That’s quite a leap.”

I stepped forward, voice rising just enough to carry.

“Vague accusations like that make your whole act look sloppy.

Mrs. Dahlia introduces you as some kind of mystical authority–but if you’re just going to toss out half-baked insinuations, you’re not doing her reputation any favors.

Especially considering…”

I turned, slowly, deliberately, scanning the faces in the crowd.

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