Page 185 of A Smile Full of Lies
His hair was tousled from my hands. His jaw sharp, mouth grim. His eyes locked on the camera like heknewwhat he was doing. Like he knew what this would cost.
He reached for the mask. Lifted it. Turned it over in his hands.
And then he said, “Nox Obscura was never really about thirst traps at all.”
The camera zoomed slightly.
“I made that account to purge an obsession. To feed it. To survive it.”
He exhaled.
“The first time I saw Rosalind Cooper, I knew I was done for. And for years, I let the mask be the only way I could touch the fantasy of having her.”
He smiled, slow and sharp.
“But the fantasy became reality.”
He held up the mask.
“I appreciate the views, likes, and many of the comments I’ve gotten over the years, but don’t get it twisted. My MaskTok account was never for, or about, any of you. It was always about her,” he said. “I’m not sorry. I’m not ashamed. And I’m not interested in your opinions on the matter.”
He paused for a beat.
“She’s my wife now. And if you ever disrespect her — online or in person — I will find out.”
His blue eyes burned like backlit sapphires.
“She took a knife to the chest for me. She solved my family’s murder. She gave them back their names. She rebuilt the ruins of my life and called it home.”
His voice dropped.
“She is a motherfucking queen. And I worship the ground she walks on.”
And then he leaned forward, lowered his voice, and said, “Keep watching if you want, but make no mistake about who I belong to. Rosalind Cooper owns every single shred of my body and soul. Period.”
The screen cut to black.
The audience erupted, but I didn’t pay them any mind.
I was already on my feet, already moving, already headed toward the man who had just told the whole fucking world that he was mine.
I don’t remember getting off the stage. Don’t remember how I got from the set to the elevator, or what the ride up to the hotel suite looked like. The world was all noise: cheering, buzzingphones, screaming fans in the audience. Security whisking me away while Jenna’s producers scrambled to contain the explosion Knox had just dropped on live television.
But none of it touched me because all I could think about washim,and what he’d just done.
The moment the elevator doors opened, I ran. Barefoot, heart racing, dress bunched in one fist, heels long forgotten somewhere down the hallway.
I shoved the hotel room door open, breath ragged, and found him there. Waiting. Still in the black hoodie, mask on the table, wedding ring catching the low lamplight. His hair was messier now — like he’d dragged his hands through it. His shoulders tense. His eyes trained on the door like he knew I’d come flying through it.
“You didn’t have to—” I started.
“Don’t,” he cut in. “Don’t do that thing where you act like I went too far.”
I stopped because he was right. I closed the door behind me. Locked the deadbolt.
And then I looked at him.
Knox, unmasked and all mine.
