Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 58: Black Rose – The Descent Into the Unknown

Chapter 58: Black Rose – The Descent Into the Unknown

Chloe grabbed Justin’s hand as soon as they stepped out of the Lambo, her fingers lacing through his with a sort of quiet possession. And Justin? He didn’t object. Didn’t pull away. Just let her lead him like she owned him, which—considering the last twenty minutes—wasn’t exactly an exaggeration.

The entrance they took wasn’t flashy. No grand doors, no red carpets.

Just a sleek, minimalistic hallway leading to an elevator tucked behind a velvet rope. No buttons outside, no call panel—just a tiny scanner that lit up the moment Chloe pressed her thumb against it.

A soft chime sounded. The doors slid open silently, revealing an interior straight out of a futuristic sci-fi movie. The walls were obsidian black, illuminated with thin blue light strips that ran along the seams like veins of energy. A touchpad replaced the traditional button panel, displaying only three options: B1, B2, B3.

Chloe pressed B3.

Instead of going up, the elevator sank.

Justin arched a brow, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So this is some kind of ultra-rich playground?"

Chloe shot him a knowing smirk. "And hideout. A dungeon for the rich. Every celebrity with enough money has been here at least once." She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "Nothing that happens here ever makes it to the public. It’s a safe haven, a home away from the prying eyes of the world."

Justin exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing up at the ceiling as the floor number ticked down. "These guys really put money into their happiness and privacy."

Chloe shrugged. "It’s a necessity. Imagine finally having the money you dreamed of, but you can’t even enjoy it because every time you step outside, a paparazzo is waiting to snap a picture of you scratching your ass."

Justin snorted. "Sounds tragic."

"It is. Their entire life’s a fucking cage. They’re slaves to their own fame. They can’t be reckless—ever—because one wrong move, one scandal, and boom, career over. But they’re still human. They still wanna go wild, get stupid, fuck whoever they want without it ending up on TMZ the next morning. Places like Black Rose?" She gestured around. "It’s their heaven."

Justin leaned back against the railing, thinking it over. He got it. Hell, he wasn’t even that famous, just the son of a millionaire, and even he had felt the media’s suffocating grip more than once.

Once, when he was seventeen, some tabloid ran an entire story about him holding hands with the prime minister’s daughter at a gala. Just holding hands.

Meanwhile, Leonardo DiCaprio could be out here dating a new twenty-five-year-old every year, and people just shrugged.

"Yeah," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I know the feeling."

The elevator kept descending, the faint hum of movement filling the space. From what Justin could tell, they were headed to the lowest floor—probably the most exclusive of the three.

And despite all the places he’d been, all the expensive clubs and elite parties he’d attended, he’d never stepped foot inside Black Rose. Hell, he hadn’t even known it was more than just some high-end office building.

And that? That was impressive.

"This place is some next-level Illuminati shit," he muttered, shaking his head. "I swear, if I see Tom Cruise in here sacrificing goats or something—"

Chloe burst out laughing. "Relax, mon chéri, no goats. Just a lot of debauchery."

"Same thing. But I ain’t giving a shit"

The elevator chimed as it neared their destination. Justin glanced at her, his smirk lazy. "So, how the hell do you have access to all this? And by the looks of it, you might hold more authority in this place than fucking DiCaprio."

Chloe flicked her hair over her shoulder, flashing a shit-eating grin. "Oh, babe. That’s because I do."

Justin blinked. "You’re telling me you outrank the guy who literally invented yacht relationships?"

Chloe smirked and pulled out a sleek black card from her pocket. It gleamed under the elevator’s dim lights, but what caught Justin’s attention were the three small stars printed on the top.

She tapped the card against his chest. "Regular members? They get normal cards. No stars and most of them.occupy B1 and B2." She wiggled her brows. "But exceptions exist."

Justin took the card, turning it between his fingers. "Alright, break it down for me."

"There are five star levels after the normal cards issued to normal members," she explained, pointing at her own. "The first star belongs to the big boss of Black Rose. Top of the food chain. Untouchable."

Justin nodded. "Makes sense."

"These two stars?" She tapped her card again. "That means I hold authority here. I’m part of the second level of the hierarchy."

Justin narrowed his eyes playfully. "And why exactly is that?"

Chloe grinned, stepping closer, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "Wanna know?" she purred.

Justin exhaled a soft chuckle, tilting his head slightly looking down on her face,"I’m listening."

And just like that—the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal whatever madness awaited them on the third and final underground floor of Black Rose.

And Justin?

He was so fucking ready.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, Justin felt it. The shift. The air itself was different—cooler, infused with the subtle scent of something expensive, like aged whiskey, leather, and the faintest trace of a luxurious perfume that was probably crafted in some private French atelier for only the one-percenters.

And the silence? It was the kind that only came with power—the type of quiet that meant people in this place didn’t need to be loud. Their existence alone spoke volumes.

The floor beneath them was obsidian marble, polished to the point that it reflected everything above it like a black mirror. But unlike the typical cold, soulless modern designs that tried too hard, Black Rose B3 dripped with indulgence.

It was a world built for billionaires—by people who understood them.

A long, dimly lit hallway stretched out before them, lined with sleek black panels that pulsed faintly with golden threads of light, shifting like they were alive. There were no signs, no labels, no directions.

If you belonged here, you knew. If you didn’t? You weren’t supposed to be here in the first place.

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