Deleting soon
Deleting soon
1
"Momma, What's wrong? Why did those men have to kill Papa, Lucien and the others?" wetness stained my cheeks watching my little feet run along with my mom, most of my weight been pulled by her as we ran through the hidden walls in our home leading to my room.
"There's no time for that my little one. Know that they are bad people out there who will kill us for any price that's why you have to go." she unlocks the door poking her head into my room quietly pulling me in. I was so confused watching her open another wall getting my backpack out. My parents always plan ahead in case of unfortunate events like this. It was our emergency get away bag, new passports and euros filled to the brim so we won't be tracked by our cards.
I began to cry knowing what is about to happen next and so did she. "Momma I can't leave you. I won't survive out there alone."
"You are a Vatore and Vatore's always survive." she says boldly even with the tears falling down her eyes. We heard voices snapping our head to the door. She smiles warmly kissing my forehead.
"Quick, you have to go." pulling me back to the hidden hallway. I stop abruptly watching her.
"To where momma?" crouching low her warm soft hand tuck fallen tendrils behind my ear. I didn't want to go, I don't know anywhere. All my life, I've never left the comfort of my home and now I'm supposed to run away. More tears spilled from my eyes. This was meant to be the best birthday ever but those men had to ruin my life. Taking everything from me.
"Anywhere my baby. Never stop running till you find the men who ruined our family. Brutally killing the ones, you love. You have to avenge us." I nod sniffing and crying.
"I will momma. I will." I promise her just as they broke the door. She pushed me locking me out of sight.
"Go! Go!"
"Momma! No! Come back momma!" Shouts and screams came from momma and I knew she struggled with the men taking her captive. I stood there crying clutching my bag.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Silence. Tears spilled uncontrollably from my eyes as my hand clasp my mouth shutting the heart wrenching scream that almost escaped which would alert them of where I am. Foot steps is heard as I sobbed running from the door.
"Find her! Find her!!!"
I jolted awake sweating profusely fear coursing through my skin. My eyes scanned the surroundings of my very new apartment. Breathing heavily, I held my heaving chest trying to calm myself and accept it was just a bad dream. A bad dream which have been following me for the past eight years since I ran away from Italy. To the wall, my eyes traced every faces I pin on a board with locations of each victim I've hunted down and killed leading to the death of the Vatore empire. My family.
Pulling the covers off me, my fuzzy covered feet lands on the floor. You must be missing out if you have never slept wearing a fuzzy sock in your life. Its another whole definition of epicity. That's my own word for epic if you get confused. Connecting my phone to the wireless beats by Dre speaker, my favorite track sit still, look pretty a Barden Bella cover blasts off the small but mighty device. The sun shining like no tomorrow, cars hooting and driving through, music at a distance, people talking and laughing. I dance around my apartment cleaning and rearranging the place to my taste. Singing and screaming along with the lyrics of the song as I fix the common room, bedroom and kitchen into a pretty decent condo. What a great day to start a new life in another state. Did I tell you how much I love this country even if this is my second state here after living in about seven different countries with different identities. Trust me, my life is a bliss.
I've been a stripper, an escort, a nanny, a tech engineer to a secret service agency, the list goes on with the fun identities I have for each country and let's not go to the names. Now in Florida, Miami I got a job as a waitress in a prestigious hotel near Miami beach. I get to wear a white bikini bra and little matching short skirt prancing around with orders of customers by the pool area. Well my last job was at a local diner in New York, a bustling city that have more humans than housing. Let's just say, I dealt oh so well with the pervy manager who sat in for the owner of the place who I might add is so hot even in his forties. I would definitely fuck him for free if not that he was rarely ever around and he has such intimidating aura around him. Plus, he is Russian. That's a red flag I won't take a blind eye at. Ladies heed my words, never, ever, dismiss the red flag no matter how much your lady bits' throb for it. To me, Five words.
Never mess with the Russians.
After placing each set of cutleries like my momma use to do, I pick up the bread and jam since I'm out of my Nutella and simmering cheese fried omelet. Buttering the jam on the bread, carefully I place the omelet on it before sealing it with another jammed bread. I smile appreciating my handwork. Food is what I call BAE. Before Anyone Else. I'm Italian and I love food. Go hug a transformer if you want to give me attitude.
Moaning at the first bite, I twirl dancing out of the kitchen with my yummy goodness locked in the grasp of my fingers. Back to my story, I won't say life have truly been unfair to me. Taking my family away from me, killing the people who brought me pains and misery, jumping from one country to another in fear of been caught by the last surviving member and ruining my last chance at revenge. Nope. Life is good.
The only question I ponder is who is the leader to all the dead souls I killed. He was sleek, leaving no traces of him with his counterparts and the foolish souls never ever saw his face. Like ever. Making my job harder than it is. But I'll catch him, it's just a matter of time and that time I won't misuse. So here it is, my story of my very own shitty life. Looking out my huge window at the beach far off, I reminisce the moment back in Italy. A crazy smile crept on my face. I'm no longer that little over price girl, pampered and showered with love from her family. I'm a grown woman with ample fitting chest, wide hips just like my momma, slim waist and toned legs that could go forever. A force to be reckon with now, and Miami is my new home. A home close to killing the bastard who took that little girl away from me.
Once upon a time, I was once a princess. Now I'm just a girl on a mission.
Chelsey loved Brett for seven years and tried everything for a baby-doctors, IVF, surgeries. Then she found out he'd been dosing her food with contraceptives. She woke back at the fire years earlier and watched Brett carry another woman out, leaving Chelsey to choke in smoke. She realized he'd been reborn too-and picked his "true love." Chelsey walked away and married Julian, her friend's cousin and the hot firefighter who saved her; he gave her all his money the day they married. Brett scoffed... until Chelsey shone at an AI summit and Julian's real identity shocked him. Seeing her with twins and another baby coming, Brett begged, "Come back to me! Please!"
I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."
Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.
For three years, Natalie gave everything to be the perfect wife and mother, believing her love and effort could finally earn her a place in their hearts. Yet her sacrifices were met with betrayal from her husband and cold rejection from her son. In their eyes, she was nothing but a manipulator, using vulnerability to get her way. Her husband turned his back, her son misunderstood her, and she never truly belonged. Heartbroken yet determined, Natalie left her old life behind. When her family finally begged for a second chance, she looked at them and said, "It's too late."
I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
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