Deirdre could feel the woman’s jealousy as though it was a tangible gust. She stumbled backward, but she was too late. The possessed young woman had lunged, and her fingers extended like claws at her mask.

Freya yanked it down and revealed bandages covering half of Deirdre’s face. She was almost enraptured—as though she had stumbled upon a secret treasure trove. “I knew it! I knew it! The lower half of your face is not done yet! It’s still as ugly as sin! That’s why you had to wear a mask. You can’t even bear to show it to the world!”

Deirdre ignored her provocation. Frowning, she demanded, “Give my mask back.”

Freya was too happy as she had uncovered her secret. Mockery and schadenfreude rolled into a single gut punch when she continued. “You really think you’re some gorgeous angel fallen out of heaven, huh, b*tch? Don’t make me laugh! Most of those beautiful masked girls you see on the street actually looked like sh*t when you pull their masks away, anyway. I guess you’re no diffe