CRIMSON VEIL

By Jennie 🥰 

Chapter 1 — The Perfect Wife

The morning sun spilled through the Ross family’s wide kitchen window, kissing the polished marble counter and warming the scent of coffee and fresh pastries. Matilda Ross stood by the stove, dressed in a simple cream robe, her auburn hair tied into a neat bun that framed her delicate face. To anyone looking, she was the picture of domestic perfection — the quiet wife, the polite daughter-in-law, the obedient woman who smiled even when the comments cut deep.

“Matilda, you’ve burnt the toast again,” came her mother-in-law’s shrill voice from the dining room. “Do you ever pay attention to anything other than that mirror?”

Matilda turned off the stove with slow precision, her lips curving into that same practiced smile.

“I’ll make another batch, Mother,” she replied softly.

Her husband, Ethan, sat at the table, head buried in his tablet. He didn’t glance up, didn’t defend her. He rarely did.

His mother filled the silence. “Honestly, Ethan, I don’t know how you married someone who can’t even cook toast. Women these days—”

Matilda’s eyes flickered for half a second. Not with irritation — but something darker. Cold. Controlled.

If only the woman knew what these hands had done.

If only she knew that those soft fingers, the ones that trembled over the toaster, had once pulled the trigger of a custom Beretta and left three men bleeding out in a warehouse off the docks.

But Matilda smiled again, placing the golden-brown toast on a plate, sliding it forward like a peace offering.

“There you go,” she said gently.

Ethan’s mother sniffed. “Hmm. At least it’s edible.”

Matilda’s smile stayed frozen, but her gaze drifted for just a moment — to the reflection in the window. Behind the glass, a sleek black car sat at the end of the driveway. Its engine was off, but she knew it was there for her.

The driver waited every morning. In case she decided that the apron came off and the boss returned.

“Darling,” Ethan said finally, looking up, “Don’t forget the dinner tonight. My brother’s coming with his wife. Try to keep things… simple, please.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

When they were gone, the silence stretched thick and heavy. Matilda set down the dish towel, her posture straightening as if a mask had slipped away. Her soft features hardened. Her eyes lost that housewife glaze and sharpened into something cold, calculating, dangerous.

The house was full of cameras. Hers. Hidden in places no one knew.

The phone on the counter buzzed — once, twice. A coded vibration pattern.

She picked it up.

Unknown Number: Shipment cleared. Three missing. Orders?

She typed:

Matilda: Handle it. No witnesses. Same location as before.

Her thumb hesitated over the send button for only a second — not out of guilt, but precision. She was Matilda Ross, wife of a real estate developer in upper Manhattan. But to the rest of the underworld, she was The Veil — the faceless boss who had taken control of the Crimson Syndicate when its former leader mysteriously vanished three years ago.

Vanished — meaning she put two bullets in his chest and burned the evidence.

Matilda poured herself a cup of coffee, watching the dark liquid swirl. The aroma mixed with the faint scent of gun oil that never truly left her skin, no matter how many times she washed her hands.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, a message in a different thread.

“Dinner tonight. Be sweet. No blood.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. It was from her lieutenant, Ace — the only person who knew both sides of her life.

She replied, No promises.

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That evening, the Ross mansion shimmered with light and chatter. Laughter echoed across the dining room as her husband’s family gathered, wine glasses clinking. Matilda wore a crimson silk dress, modest yet commanding. Her mother-in-law’s eyes darted over her disapprovingly.

“Red? For a family dinner?” she sneered. “A bit much, don’t you think?”

Matilda smiled, the corners of her lips curving dangerously. “I find red… empowering.”

“Hmm. Bold choice for a woman with such a quiet nature.”

“She’s trying,” Ethan said quickly, pouring his mother another glass of wine. He looked at Matilda apologetically, the same way he always did — like a man terrified of conflict, terrified of her, though he didn’t know why.

Matilda kept smiling, serving food, playing her part. But behind her calm demeanor, she was cataloging every insult, every smirk, every dismissive glance.

Her brother-in-law, Darren, leaned forward with a smirk. “So, Matilda… what do you do all day while Ethan’s working? Yoga? Shopping?”

She tilted her head. “A bit of both.”

His wife snorted. “Must be nice having a husband pay for everything.”

Matilda laughed softly. “Oh, I pay for more than you think.”

They laughed, unaware of the steel behind her words.

Halfway through dinner, her phone buzzed under the table. One glance — and the shift in her energy was imperceptible to anyone but her.

Ace: The three are gone. Clean. No trace.

Her gaze flicked up, calm as ever. Her family continued talking — about golf, renovations, and petty gossip — while her mind was balancing power deals, territory disputes, and the movement of two million dollars in untraceable funds.

As her brother-in-law raised a toast to “family unity,” Matilda lifted her glass, her smile soft and cold.

To them, she was invisible. Harmless. Forgettable.

And that was exactly what made her dangerous.