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Chapter 65 - You'd be dead...
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2025-01-22 12:51:31
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Numbness. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was the absence of it, a void where something should have been. Like standing in the middle of a fire and not feeling the heat. It was the cruelest kind of punishment because it wasn’t pain—it was the loss of even that. I looked at him, the man I would’ve given everything for, the man I still would and felt the kind of emptiness that comes from feeling too much for too long. I loved him. I loved him so much it hurt. But that love had hollowed me out, until all that was left was this ache I couldn’t get rid of. It wasn’t that I stopped caring, I couldn’t even if I tried. He was still the one I’d die for, still the one I’d burn my entire world down for. But when I looked at him now, there was this cold, cruel distance between us, and I didn’t know if it was his fault or mine. I wanted to scream at him, shake him, make him see what he was doing to me. But instead, I just sat there, silent, staring at the man who still owned ev
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Stella’s favorite pink gown. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The silk clung to me in all the ways it used to cling to her like it was made for her and no one else. My hands trembled as they smoothed over the fabric, my fingertips skimming the delicate spaghetti straps, the soft sheen of the silk, the open back that dipped low. It felt wrong and right all at once, wearing this. Like I was trespassing into a memory that didn’t belong to me but still clung to me like a second skin. My vision blurred, and I had to blink hard to clear the moisture pooling in my eyes. She lent it to me. I remember the way she smiled as she handed it over, the way she laughed and said, “You’ll look better in it than I ever could.” She was lying, of course. Stella lit up every room she walked into, and in this dress, she looked like a star. She lent it to me but I never got the chance to wear it. And I never got the chance to give it back. My chest tightened as I wrapped
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ In the mirror’s reflection, I saw him. I spun around immediately, my heartbeat went haywire. Without thinking, I moved to push past him, my shoulder brushing against his arm as I headed for the door. His hand shot out, gripping my waist that stopped me in my tracks. Before I could react, he pulled me back, positioning himself in front of me. I shoved his hand off with more force than necessary and tried again to move past him. But he was faster. Both of his hands found my waist this time, locking me in place. And then he lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing and set me on the sink counter. My hands shot out to push him away, I opened my mouth, ready to tell him exactly where he could go, but his finger pressed against my lips. “Shhh, just shhh...” his gaze said, though his lips didn’t move. My chest heaved as anger burned through me. My lips pressed into a tight line as I glared at his face, but his focus wasn’t on my face. His eyes had already dro
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ “Alessandro,” Evangeline began casually, twirling her wine glass by the stem, “I’ve been thinking about what you said in Nikolai’s office the other day.” I didn’t even realize my hand had tightened around my fork until I heard the faint scrape against the plate. My eyes flicked to her briefly, then instinctively to Alessandro, who sat across the table. He frowned at her, “What about it?” Evangeline tilted her head slightly. She lazily moved her fork through the air, like she was painting an invisible picture. “Oh, nothing really. It’s just something you said stuck with me,” she sipped her wine slowly, “That little comment you made about how ‘boys don’t get abused,’” she said, mimicking his words, her voice lilting mockingly. “And then you added, what was it?” she snapped her fingers, “Ah, right, ‘boys enjoy it.’” I froze in place, unable to bring the fork to my mouth. Did she really just say that? Here? Like this? My eyes went to Francesca sitting at the far end an
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The moment I stepped outside, I stopped dead in my tracks. They were all there, standing in a tight circle. Each one of them towered over six-foot-three, dressed in black suits that barely hid the tattoos snaking up their necks and wrists. And knowing them, each probably had at least five knives or guns hidden somewhere under all that tailored fabric. Hell, probably even brass knuckles tucked away for good measure. While I was unarmed... I had nothing. Just the clothes on my back and whatever shred of confidence I could scrape together. My stomach twisted, the instinct to turn and run hammering in my chest. I pulled my shoulders back, forcing my spine straight, and took one step after another down the stairs. The sound of a black SUV pulling up caught their attention. They moved as one, parting without a word, clearing a path for me straight to the car. My throat felt dry as sandpaper as I swallowed hard and walked forward. Nikolai stepped to the side and ope
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Francesca sat in the chair, trembling, her hands clutching the fabric of her skirt. Her tear-streaked face darted between the women surrounding her, searching for sympathy.but she found none. Evangeline adjusted the tripod, the camera framed Francesca perfectly. Allegra crossed her arms, “You know, Francesca, the thing about the truth is, it always comes out. Whether you say it yourself or someone else drags it out of you, that’s up to you.” Francesca sniffled, dabbing her face with a trembling hand. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done,” she stammered, her voice uneven. “Oh, we’re way past thinking,” Delilah snapped, stepping closer. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor, “We know exactly what you did. To Alessandro.” Camilla stood at the back of the room. Her eyes bore into Francesca, filled with years of pent-up rage and sorrow. She didn’t say a word, she just looked at that woman with a new kind of hatred. Francesca’s eyes darted nervously from one face to
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Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Scott leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, they never left?” Nikolai shook his head once. “No. They just ‘forgot’ to check their phones.” Lorenzo exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “They did it on purpose. Because of what was said at the table.” I stayed quiet, fingers drumming against my knee. That wasn’t surprising. If anything, it was expected. The women weren’t the type to sit still when something unsettled them. Nikolai turned his gaze to me. “Speaking of dinner conversation... how’s she doing?” My spine straightened. I already knew who he meant. I pushed up from my chair. “I’ll check.” The office door shut behind me as I stepped into the hallway. There was a weight pressing against my ribs, a feeling I didn’t like acknowledging. The metallic stench of blood hit me first. I stepped into the room, and stepped onto the blood spread across the ground. The carnage was absolutely beautiful. Eight men, all of them dead. Their
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the stranger looking back at me. Dark circles clung under my eyes. My lips were cracked. There was dried blood at my temple, a bruise blooming beneath it. I barely recognized myself. I didn’t know how long I walked or how many miles passed beneath my feet before I ended up here—some tiny bed-and-breakfast in the middle of nowhere. The owner didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry, just handed me a key and a warm plate of food like she knew I needed both more than air. She even gave me clothes. They were too big, hanging loose on my frame, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I dropped onto the bed, my limbs aching, my body screaming for rest. But the second I closed my eyes, they were there. Their faces. Their eyes. Their blood. I sucked in a breath and forced them away. I did what I had to do. I avenged my sister. My brother-in-law. I ended the men who took everything from me. From Felicity. And yet,
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ FOUR YEARS LATER •───⋅────⋅───• The pregnancy test lay on the counter. I stared at it. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting… Until— Two bright pink lines. My pulse slammed into my throat. My fingers trembled as I snatched the second test, my breath stalling in my chest. Bold, capital letters burned into my vision. Pregnant. I swallowed, my mouth dry as I reached for the third one, hoping, praying, begging for a different result. Pregnant. A hollow, gasping breath left me as I staggered backward. My legs barely held me up before I sank to the cold tile floor, pressing my knees to my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. My body was a time bomb, the life inside me a ticking fuse. I had read the statistics, spoken to the doctors, heard the warnings whispered like a death sentence. Fifty-fifty. A chance to survive. A chance to die. And the baby, God, the baby. My mi
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The second we stepped inside, Alessandro had me against the wall, his body pressing into mine like he couldn’t stand the space between us. I moaned into his mouth, clawing at his jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. My fingers worked fast, unbuttoning his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath as I slid my hands down his chest, nails raking lightly over his skin before pausing over the bandages where he’d been shot. The wound was nearly healed, but I still handled it with care. My fingers trembled there, hesitation flickering through me for the briefest moment. His hands tore my shirt over my head, his fingers finding the clasp of my bra, snapping it open with a single flick. It slid off, leaving me bare. His mouth never left mine, but his hands moved lower, unbuttoning my jeans, pushing them down my hips. I arched into him, needy, aching, tugging at his belt, pulling it free, hands sliding under the waistband of his pants. He grabbed my wrists, slammi
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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The waiting room felt like a prison. The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nose, and the cold, sterile lighting overhead made everything feel like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My fingers were clenched so tightly around the arms of the chair that my nails dug into my palms. My entire body was trembling, my lungs struggling to pull in air past the lump in my throat. Brandon sat beside me, his hand on my shoulder. On my other side, Felicity clung to my arm, her small fingers digging in. Across from us, Alessandro’s family filled the space. Nikolai stood with his arms crossed, his jaw locked so tight I swore I could hear his teeth grinding. Scott was pacing, his usual cheerfulness was gone, replaced by a dark look. Lorenzo sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together, staring at the floor. Marco leaned against the wall, his head tipped back, eyes closed, but I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. Bianca was holding onto Stefano, her entir
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Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Francesca. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She shouldn’t be here. No one had seen or heard from her in months. The last thing I knew, Nikolai had taken everything from her. Every cent, every luxury, every privilege that came with the Costello name. He had stripped her down to nothing and cast her out. No security, no connections, no power. She was gone. Or at least, she was supposed to be. Her gaze locked onto mine, and with a slow, movement of her fingers beckoned me forward. Her eyes darted around, scanning the room, before she turned sharply on her heels, heading toward the back doors that led into the gardens. She wanted me to follow. For a split second, I considered ignoring her entirely, letting the past rot where it belonged. But then Viviane. Because if I didn’t handle this? She would. And despite every instinct screaming at me to leave her to it. I moved. The moment I stepped through the doors, it wasn’t the night I felt, it
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Lilianna »»»◈««« I had precisely one shot at this. If I told Marco under normal circumstances, he’d shut it down immediately. If I waited, he’d find out anyway—because he’s Marco. He’d outmaneuver me, corner me, and by the time I realized what he was doing, it would already be over. So I had to be strategic. Which is exactly why I waited until he was inside me. It wasn’t playing fair but I wasn’t playing. Marco had me on my hands and knees, my spine arched. His grip on my hips held me in place. One of his hands left my hip, sliding up the curve of my back, pressing between my shoulder blades, pushing me deeper into the mattress. I pressed my cheek against the mattress and whispered, "I started my own company." His movements slowed, uncertain like he wasn't sure he heard me right. I pressed my face harder into the mattress, "A rescue organization. Human trafficking, organ trafficking—" I rambled on and on. Marco’s fingers tightened bruisingly on my hips. And then he
