[Nakamura Financial Support] ...notices a familiar figure.

Suddenly, she noticed a familiar figure lounging on one of the couches. The woman was dressed in a beautiful red backless dress, with straps that lead up from the body to the neck, ending in a choker, her black hair tied into a loose bun. Her skin was pale, like fresh cream, and her face was hidden underneath a fox mask made of white and red porcelain. However, her dainty figure, the way she hid her face as she laughed even with a mask on and her melodic voice gave her away immediately.

It was Emiko Nakamura, her mother.

Isabella could not believe her eyes. She could not fathom what her mother was doing here, and she desperately hoped that her identity would remain concealed, the jade mask obscuring her features.

She approached the couch cautiously, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation and get a answer to her questions.

Her mother was sandwiched between two men, one bald and wearing an ivory Jester mask, the other a younger man with an intricate Venetian mask made of gold and silver.

They were laughing at something that the bald man had said, and her mother leaned into him, putting her feet into the laps of the Venetian, who promptly started rubbing his hands along her legs. As he did so, her dress rode up, exposing more and more of her pale thighs.

The Jester, refusing to be outdone, placed a hand around her mother's shoulder and slipped the other into the open back of her dress, and Isabella could see the outline of his hand around her mother's breast under the loose fabric.

Isabella bit her lips, unsure of how to proceed.

Should she go up to them and ask her mother what the fuck she was doing, or should she turn around and forget that this had ever happened?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a strong hand on her lower back, and the scent of expensive cologne.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Carlos's voice was low, his lips nearly touching her ear. She stiffened, her heart pounding. "Very much so," she replied, trying to sound unaffected.

Carlos looked past her, his eyes narrowing. "Ah, I see you have found your mother. You should say hello. She is quite the popular guest. She has a very interesting effect on people, especially the men. Perhaps it runs in the family."

Isabella flushed, his words stinging.

"I think I should leave her to enjoy the company of her... friends."

"As you wish," Carlos said, a smile playing on his lips. "Though I would hardly call them her friends. This is the reason why they were so... receptive to the idea of donating to your Presidency. Your mother has a way of loosening their wallets, and their pants, and she had been hard at work all day."

The image flashed in her mind, making her heart beat faster. She imagined her mother, her naked body sandwiched between men, their hands all over her, using her the way they wanted.

"I... I see."

"Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her," Carlos said, his voice low and husky.

His words ignited a fire inside her, an anger and indignation.

"Perhaps I could."

She pulled away from him, her resolve hardening. She would confront her mother, and show her that she was not some girl to be kept in the dark and coddled.

She approached the group, her mask concealing her features, her presence commanding the attention of those around her.

Her mother's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly under the mask. She had recognised her daughter instantly.

"What are you doing here?"

The men looked at each other, then at Isabella. The Jester removed his hand from her mother's breast, straightening his tie. The Venetian cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"I am simply a guest. Enjoying the party," Isabella said, her voice steady and controlled.

"Well, I was just about to show these gentlemen to a bedroom. But perhaps we should share a word first?" Her mother rose from the couch, her eyes narrowed.

Isabella glanced at the men, their body language a mixture of confusion and lust. She nodded, her jaw clenched.

"Fine."

Her mother led her away from the group, the tension between them thick.

They walked through the crowd, their heels clicking on the marble floor. The music was louder here, the bass thumping through her body.

As they reached a secluded hallway, her mother spun around, her eyes flashing.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?"

"I'm not following you," Isabella retorted, her voice cold. "I was invited."

"By who?

"Carlos."

Her mother's eyes widened.

"I see. So you have taken up on my advice then? To use your body as a tool. To make men give you what you want."

Isabella's cheeks flushed, but she nodded.

"Yes. I'm here to fuck him. I'm here to get the money back."

Her mother smirked, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, well. Good. Now, if you excuse me, I have to return to my business. The one I promised you help with."

"Wait," Isabella said, her voice faltering. "We... I..."

Her mother stopped, turning to look at her.

"What is it?"

"Can... can I watch? You with the men? I could use with a lesson before I meet with Carlos later."

Her mother's lips curved into a smile, her eyes twinkling.

"Of course, my dear. I'm sure you will find it... informative."

With that, her mother turned, her hips swaying as she made her way back to the crowd.

Isabella followed, her heart pounding.