MONIQUEI arrived at the hotel café, scanning the room for Richardson. He was already seated at a corner table, blending in with the upscale surroundings of my hotel. His eyes caught mine the moment I walked in, and he gave me a quick nod, his face calm.I walked over, and without a word, took the seat across from him. He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand, cutting him off before he could even start."How could you be so sloppy?" I asked, my voice low but sharp. "Your name, Richardson. They know it. Charles."His jaw tightened, and he sat back, crossing his arms. "I didn't reveal my name," he replied, his voice just as controlled as mine. "The messenger I sent must have picked it up somewhere after the agreement was made. I didn't hand it over."I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at him. "Do you have any idea what k
MONIQUEI had control issues, and ballet school made me become a perfectionist. When I started getting bullied, our dance instructor from Italy—Costanza—had made a joke about my weight. She told me I was missing steps because I had fat arms and calves. The girls laughed and they used it to make fun of me every single day till I left that school.This made me a control freak. If things didn't go my way, I would want to tear things apart. But while I was in hiding, Don Antonio had a girlfriend, she was French and she was a lot younger than him and closer to my age. We bonded, in a way. She was a ballet instructor, too, and one of the few people who didn't make me feel inadequate. She showed me how to use my frustration and lack of control to fuel something productive, something that could center me.My years in hiding taught me more than patience and strategy. They tau
There's a certain silence in suffering—the kind that wraps around your throat, leaving you gasping for air. It's like a constant tinnitus, a ringing that drowns out everything, even the sound of your voice as you silently scream for help. You want to reach out to someone, anyone, to plead for relief. But even when someone is there, the silence can still feel overwhelming.Amid the chaos of New York's evening rush, with honking horns and bustling streets, the quiet inside me remained deafening.Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled out of the studio, jogging away from the school building and the girls who made my life feel like hell at school. My pointe shoes were still tight on my blistered feet, tulle brushing against my leotard, and tights sticking uncomfortably to my sweaty skin, the cold night air made my sweat feel like icy pins. I felt like I was suffocating.I saw the SUV parked in the lot, waiting for me like a lifeline. I sent up a quick, desperate prayer that my mother was i
MONIQUETen years laterIt felt good to be back out in the city that never sleeps—New York, a city that had swallowed me whole and, in return, spat me out stronger.I watched my childhood and innocence engulfed in flames just shy of a decade ago. The first few years of my life after the tragedy were like getting dragged through razor wire... nearly impossible even, especially in a world I now called mine. I could have been assassinated along with my parents that night, but I managed to maneuver the part where I was the victim and slip out of the tragedy of being the timid kid orphaned by bullets. I had to burn those memories of being bullied as a teenager, and you know what else I did? I became well-acquainted with the dangers that my family attracted, those dangers that lurked due to power and position.I drove myself to 'The Dark Pulse' nightclub. It was one of the newer clubs in town, and its reputation was spoken about by people who knew it. It was not just an advertised spectacle
LIAMI shoved open the door, barely giving it a chance to swing back before I had her pinned against the wall. Her lips were on mine, zealous, hungry. I wasn’t one for chasing women—hell, I never wasted my time at the club hoping to find one worth my trouble. But tonight, I needed the distraction. And she was something else. Sharp-eyed, with a smile that promised chaos and a body made for sin. She hadn’t hesitated when I grabbed her hand and led her out of that noise. That’s how I knew she belonged here, in my penthouse, under my grip. My one hand anchored her to the wall, the other hand tangled in her hair. God—the way she moved, the biting edge of her brown eyes drinking in my space like she was impressed. She seemed to be looking for trouble, looking for someone like me. Dangerous. Sexy. This woman wasn’t my usual type—I didn’t like them so businesslike, and god, not the ones with so much hair I couldn’t wrap around easily. She moaned against my mouth as I pressed her harder aga
MONIQUEMy therapist once told me about the four stages of rage. Annoyance, frustration, hostility—and then fury. I didn't think I had felt the first three, not really. But that final stage? The white-hot, blinding intensity of fury? I felt it now, burning through me like a fire I couldn't control.I didn't cry when I watched my parents get murdered. I didn't cry at their funeral when they were lowered into the ground, the weight of grief suffocating me. But seeing the face of their killer? Discovering I had unknowingly spent the night with him, sharing an unforgettable, passionate encounter? That broke me in a way nothing else had.The tears came before I could stop them, hot and bitter. The anger surged inside me, unstoppable, until I was shaking with the force of it. I locked myself in my bedroom all morning, burying my face in the pillows, letting the rage consume me until I had nothing left but exhaustion.But I couldn't stay in that place. Not now. Not with so much at stake.A s
LIAMThe casino's entrance was a statement of luxury. As I stepped through the doors, the sound of slot machines and the low hum of conversation surrounded me. The air was filled with the scent of expensive cigars and the soft click of high heels on polished marble. The ladies couldn't hide their gawking--a usual occurrence I was already used to.I made my way toward the high-stakes room, my presence marked by the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Heads turned, and whispers followed in my wake. I offered courteous nods and firm handshakes here and there."Liam Sterling," a familiar voice called out. I turned to see David Torres, a seasoned distributor with a habit for theatrics. He extended his hand, which I took with a firm grip. "Good to see you. I hear you're quite the player tonight.""David. Always a pleasure."As I continued through the casino, I exchanged pleasantries with several other key figures. There was Carla Mendoza, a club owner with connections that stretched the whole o
LIAMAs soon as I left Felix, my irritation still pulsing beneath the surface, I gave him a clear directive: "Dig into this 'Queen of the West.' I want to know everything by morning."This day kept getting better and better, with more mysterious women throwing themselves in my path.This Queen of the West woman, whoever she was, sounded more like a joke and a waste of time, and I had a feeling the stunt she pulled back in the game room wouldn't be her last.I walked out of the casino, the glitzy lights doing nothing to calm the storm inside me. Once in the back of the car, I pulled out my phone and started making necessary calls. The night and my initial plans were already ruined. I needed to reshape my plans to gain new and bigger deals... more partnerships and expand my dealings far beyond the country. That was the aim when I first started to build my empire from the ground up.I decided to call the hotel contractor working on my newest hotel, which would open in a few weeks. The ma
MONIQUEI had control issues, and ballet school made me become a perfectionist. When I started getting bullied, our dance instructor from Italy—Costanza—had made a joke about my weight. She told me I was missing steps because I had fat arms and calves. The girls laughed and they used it to make fun of me every single day till I left that school.This made me a control freak. If things didn't go my way, I would want to tear things apart. But while I was in hiding, Don Antonio had a girlfriend, she was French and she was a lot younger than him and closer to my age. We bonded, in a way. She was a ballet instructor, too, and one of the few people who didn't make me feel inadequate. She showed me how to use my frustration and lack of control to fuel something productive, something that could center me.My years in hiding taught me more than patience and strategy. They tau
MONIQUEI arrived at the hotel café, scanning the room for Richardson. He was already seated at a corner table, blending in with the upscale surroundings of my hotel. His eyes caught mine the moment I walked in, and he gave me a quick nod, his face calm.I walked over, and without a word, took the seat across from him. He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand, cutting him off before he could even start."How could you be so sloppy?" I asked, my voice low but sharp. "Your name, Richardson. They know it. Charles."His jaw tightened, and he sat back, crossing his arms. "I didn't reveal my name," he replied, his voice just as controlled as mine. "The messenger I sent must have picked it up somewhere after the agreement was made. I didn't hand it over."I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at him. "Do you have any idea what k
MONIQUEHis words echoed in my head like a constant siren. I can't let you go.I hadn't fully recovered from Liam's confessions the other day. The intensity of his emotions, his possessiveness—it was almost too much. And yet here I was, tangled up with him again, our bodies intertwined in the sheets of his penthouse bed. The city hummed outside, but in this moment, it felt like we were in our own world.The sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the silence, stirring Liam awake. His body shifted beside mine, and I felt the absence of his warmth as he slid out of bed. I watched through half-open eyes as he grabbed a pair of pants from the chair nearby. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone always in control, even in the early morning hours.He glanced back at me once before leaving the bedroom, his gaze lingering, then disappeared into the hallway to answer the door.Through the muffled walls, I could make out the low murmur of voices. It was Felix. My pulse quickened. I couldn
MONIQUEThe number of work meetings had drastically reduced. As Liam's assistant, I not only gained access to his world but also front-row seats to the spectacle of it crumbling, piece by piece. Each passing day, I watched as the empire he had meticulously built seemed to unravel, and though I was part of it, I couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction. There was a power in watching someone so formidable brought down by forces they couldn't control.I was seated in my office, scrolling through pictures Sophie had sent of Star. The fluffy Persian was curled up in a ball in one image, playfully batting at a string in another. I smiled absently as I flicked through them. There wasn't much else to do today. Liam had been out handling God-knows-what, and the office felt unusually still, like a quiet before an impending storm.I almost didn't notice when the door opened. Liam walked in, the tension radiating off him like heat from a furnace. I locked my phone and rushed to meet him. He
LIAMAs I stepped into the storage room, the strong smell of blood hit me, a clear reminder of the seriousness of the situation. I rolled up my sleeves, the dim light illuminating the grim scene: Trevor was tied to one chair, his body bruised and battered, while two other men were similarly restrained nearby. My men had done a thorough job. Felix stood at the forefront."Three men," he explained, nodding toward the lifeless form sprawled on the floor, "but one got caught in the shootout and didn't make it." His gaze flicked toward the surviving trio, a predator sizing up his prey.One of the men, a scrappy guy with a wild look in his eyes, squirmed in his chair, a desperate plea creeping into his voice. "Look, I'll cooperate! I'll tell you anything you want to know, just don't kill me."A humorless grin stretched across my face, a reflection of my disdain for his delusions. "You really think you'll walk out of here alive?" I stepped closer, my presence looming over him. "Who sent you?
LIAMThe warehouse was eerily silent when I arrived, tension so thick you could slice through it. The four workers stood before me, a mix of fear and confusion on their faces. I could see it in their eyes—none of them had a clue what was happening, or at least, that's what they wanted me to believe. I wasn't buying it. I didn't trust anyone fully at this point. One of them could've easily been in on it.I looked each one of them in the eye, my gaze hard. "What do you know about the attack?" I asked, my voice even but carrying a sneer.One by one, they fumbled through their answers, all variations of the same thing—we don't know anything, boss. Their voices desperate and nervous. It was hard to tell who was genuinely clueless and who was faking, because I was completely blinded by rage.But I was also not a fool. Trust wasn't something I handed out easily. After what happened, if one person could betray me, then why not all of them? Maybe they were in this together, covering for each o
LIAMA week had passed, and still, we hadn't found the thieves. Whoever they were, they covered their tracks well, leaving no trace behind. Each passing day felt like a ticking bomb. It wasn't just the financial hit—though that alone was staggering—it was the cracks it had started to create in my reputation.The rage boiled inside me as the reality of the situation grew clearer. Half of my investors had begun pulling out. Contracts that had taken months, even years, to secure were suddenly being terminated. The trust they had in me, in my operation, was slipping through my fingers like sand. And I didn't even have enough money to pump into my company anymore. All of it—both business above and underground—were evaporating before my eyes.I slammed my fist against the desk, the sharp crack of wood and bone reverberating through my penthouse office. I couldn't even keep track of how many times I'd lost control in the past month. Everything was spiraling, slipping through my fingers.Was
MONIQUEYou know how, when you spotted a trail of ants invading your yard, and after following their line, you finally found the nest? That moment when you crushed it, watching them scatter in chaos—that was exactly how it felt watching Liam and his people scramble in the aftermath of what I had done to his so-called empire. There was something deeply satisfying, almost intoxicating, about seeing their destruction unfold. It had been a whole surge of power.I got home from work and poured myself a glass of champagne, one of my most expensive bottles. The cool fizz hit my tongue as I leaned back against the kitchen counter, savoring the taste. The bubbles burst with the same satisfaction I'd felt earlier when watching Liam fall apart from the news of his robbery.I couldn't help but replay the scene in my head, how I had given him that reassuring shoulder, offering to help find the people responsible for the theft. It had been seamless. And after the night we spent together, the way I'
LIAMMy empire felt like it was crumbling, piece by piece. First, the warehouse attack, and now, the possibility that someone on the inside was behind it. It didn't sit right with me. Maybe it was just random thieves, desperate and stupid enough to try their luck against me. Bandits selling off the stolen goods in some lower market to make a quick buck. But it didn't add up. The lack of trust had slowly crept into my life, and I couldn't shake it.I was always careful, selective about the men I let into my organization. Loyalty was everything in my business. These weren't just street thugs; they were men who had stood by me, bled for me. But that didn't mean one of them couldn't turn two-faced and stab me in the back when I wasn't looking.The thought gnawed at me as I sat in my office. Monique was reading through some stock reports and going over schedules, her voice clear and calm as she listed off everything in a way that helped me focus, even in moments like these.The door to my