Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 1478

Jenson gazed up at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his back like a seasoned bureaucrat. He pretended he hadn't heard anything and quietly walked away.

Taylor stepped outside, phone in hand. Just after finishing his call, the sound of blaring alarms erupted from inside the venue.

Everyone rushed out in a frenzy, and soon thick smoke began to drift into the hallway with the crowd.

Taylor scanned the area but couldn't spot Abigail. Just as he was about to head back inside, a hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

He turned to see Abigail laughing, completely unfazed.

"Great job, Taylor! Looks like we're in sync," she said, crossing her arms with a proud smirk.

"Did you start the fire?" Taylor quickly pieced it together.

"Wasn't it you?" Abigail replied, her confusion evident. "I just pulled the fire alarm! I thought you set the fire!"

They exchanged glances, contemplating for a moment before simultaneously exclaiming, "It was Helly!" "Hels!"

…

On the top floor of an apartment building, a woman in a white fox mask stood by the window, her calm eyes observing the thick smoke rising from the exhibition center.

Seymour descended from upstairs, presenting her with an exquisite box. "Miss, the new mask is ready. Please give it a try."

As she lifted the mask, her well-defined oval face slowly emerged, showcasing smooth, flawless pale skin.

Yet, once her entire face was revealed, a prominent scar on the left side of her forehead became strikingly visible.

From the moment the contracts were signed, her name had been reduced to a mere tool for financial gain—an identity she could only escape through her own death.

In the end, she carefully orchestrated a fire, staging her own demise to break free from their control.

However, an oversight left her with burns on her face. Although she was receiving treatment, it was clear she could never fully reclaim her former appearance.

She had arranged for a fake corpse, but she knew Vincent would be relentless in his pursuit, and the capitalists wouldn't let her slip away easily. Her identity as Helen Spencer had become too perilous to maintain.

Fortunately, she had managed to save Seymour just in time; now she could walk freely in the light without fear.

In a moment of disorientation, she caught a glimpse of Chandler's face in the mirror, just as he had looked at the masquerade ball that night.

Helen shut her eyes, unwilling to dwell on those memories any longer.