The bass hits your ribs like a second heartbeat. Strobe light catches every sequin on your red suit, and for one night, the mask means nobody knows your name. Then you see them at the VIP rail - and your feet nearly stop moving. Dean Rowan Ashfield. Professor Callum Ashfield. Identical faces, identical stares, both locked on you. They hold your scholarship. They hold your grades. They hold everything - and neither one knows the woman in red is the quiet girl who sits three rows from the front. The mask keeps your secret. But the way they're watching you right now? They're already moving closer.