9 years later.The Grand Hotel.Selangor, Malaysia. 8:30 pm.At a prestigious gala night party, hosted strictly for the créme de la créme of the society, Calista Bloom stood out as the center of attraction. Her stride was as elegant and majestic like a queen, yet it was fierce and unbridled like a lioness in the wild. She looked alluring in her black silk front slit dress that caught all her curves perfectly, and showed a flattering amount of cleavage. She had a faux fur shawl scarf wrapped around her shoulders, a Christian Louboutin heels on her feet and a Louis Vuitton handbag in her hand.She had ginger-red mane for hair, which she styled in a sleek, gelled-back ponytail. Her unique eyes were a pair of sage green orbs that matched her olive green dangling earrings and necklace. And her light make-up did nothing but enhance her ethereal beauty.The soft clinking of champagne glasses and the muted hum of conversation filled the air as Calista made her way through the crowded room.‘
Inside his lavish hotel suit, Calista's eyes followed him closely as he uncuffed the briefcase from his wrist. Next, he went over to the dresser table where a digital safe box sat. Using his thumbprint he unlocked the safe and deposited the case into the safe before relocking it.He then turned to face her, a charming smile spread on his face. “I have encountered the most beautiful women of the world, but you my dear, are a discovery.” Mr. Xang said in a steamy tone as he settled onto the bed, undoing his tie with one hand and reaching out for her with the other.Calista took his hand, but he suddenly pulled her into his laps. She could feel her skin crawl, her thighs tingling with irritation. Reluctantly, she leaned in, and instantly masked the disgust and revulsion in her face with a flirtatious look. “I'm flattered, Marcus,” She purred.“No. In here, I’d prefer you called me ‘daddy’” Mr. Xang sounded more dominant. He leaned in closer, his eyes roaming all over her breasts. “A
An unknown location in Italy. 4:15 am. Deep beneath the De Rico manor, Stefano unleashed a relentless barrage of punches, his fists pummeling the helpless man like a human punching bag. Sadistic pleasure danced in his eyes as he savored every cry, every whimper. Interrogation was his twisted game, and he was the master.The air reeked of sweat, blood, and fear, a noxious odor that clung to the walls like a malignant shadow. The sound of the captured perpetrators' ragged breathing echoed through the damp space. Faint scents of mold, gunpowder, and blood mingled in the air. Dim fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows on the walls. The darkness seemed to close in around them.Just then, Marco Sanchez, Stefano's right hand and most trusted advisor, burst in, phone in hand, its loud ringing piercing the air like a warning siren.“Stefano! It’s Leonard. He says it’s urgent.” The highly anticipated call had finally come, but the news on the other end would shatter Stefano's expectations. A
Washington DC, United States.9:00 am.Agent Calista Bloom arrived at her workplace; the Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters. As she walked in, the hum of activity momentarily ceased. The room was filled with rows of sleek, modern desks, each equipped with state-of-the-art technology. Agents and officers tapped away at their keyboards or pored over files, their faces a mix of concentration and curiosity.The walls were adorned with screens displaying real-time surveillance footage, maps, and data analytics. The air was thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of hushed conversations.But as soon as her boss saw her, he made it her moment.“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Announced Chief Director Sylvester Peckham with a clap, commandeering the attention of the officers and agents at their desks. All heads turned towards the entrance as Calista sauntered in with a flattered smile.The veil of a seductress had been removed. She was now dressed in her
Milan, Italy.3:15 pm. She stepped off the train and onto the bustling platform of Milan's Central Station. The soft, indirect light of the Milanese afternoon spilled into the terminal, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowds. Her eyes briefly shut, she inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of ripe citrus fruits and the subtle hint of freshly baked pastries that wafted through the air from the terminal cafe.‘New city, new identity,’ she muttered to herself with a subtle sly smile. She could feel the thrill of her new mission pulsating through her veins. Her past had been buried, but not forgotten. Her new name was Serena Lopez. A name fitting her personality and agenda.Even her outfit was that of an Italian lady boss. Exuding class and elegance in simplicity. She wore a simple white long-sleeve collared blouse, with a wide-leg style pants that were both flattering and comfortable. Her purse was a black Hermes handbag, and her feet were adorned by Channel scarpin heels.
9 years ago After the prosecution of her father's death, young Callie spent the first three months of her new life in the St. Rita's Orphanage home, Virginia. The First month, the little girl was numb —literally, emotionally. She barely spoke one word a day. But she always gave a cold, deathly stare to the kids who dared to taunt her, bully her and say her name; ‘Callie’. It was a name that now happened to terrify her memories, and send cold shivers all over her skin.Her late mother never called her Callie, she called her her own name instead —Serena. Her late father made sure of that. In his words, “No one calls her Callie but me! She's mine!” His grave voice still thundered in the back of her head, a haunting testament to the misery she endured in his hands. He was possessive of her. He dictated every aspect of her life, including her education, which meant she was strictly homeschooled. He’d locked her indoors for weeks without letting her see the sun. “The world is full of ev
Calista was then punished for two weeks. She was forced to atone for her odious sins by locking her up in the chapel room just like how her father would lock her up in her room. She spiraled and crashed out, yelling and screaming day after day, begging to be freed.But the only comfort that was brought to her was the news of Roger being confirmed blind in his right eye.No remorse. No empathy. “He deserves it.” She thought passionlessly. At the end of the third month, she was suddenly adopted by a wealthy family. The Sinclairs. In six months, she found out their secret; They were adopting kids, feeding them, and nursing them to good health. Then trade them as a pet to wealthier child abusers. Traffic them as slaves to masters and mistresses, and mules to drug dealers.However, Mr. Sinclair decided to keep Calista for himself. “She is priceless. She is mine.” He once said to a high bidder who wanted her as her pet.On Mr. Sinclair’s very first sexual attempt on Calista, she stabbed
Present Day Like a thunderous bolt shattering the stillness, the alarm clock blasted off at 4: 00 am, stirring its owner wide awake. With a frustrated groan, Serena rolled over to the edge of the bed. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and staggered to the bathroom a few feet from her bed, where she searched and groped in the dark for the screaming alarm clock.She found it where she had left it, blaring with a jarring sound, and killed it with a violent slap. The early morning became instantly still as it once was.She stood in the dark for a moment, breathless, terrified, her heart pounding rapidly —but it wasn't from a nightmare. Serena never had nightmares. Rather, she didn't dream or she never remembers them.It was from the cardiac arrest she flirted with each morning at the time when the thing erupted. Staring at the fluorescent numbers that glowed from the alarm clock, she realized how much she hated it —its piercing sound could wake the dead.Yet she took it with her
Serena. She had to act like everything was fine—perfect even. Her smile was light, her posture poised, and her voice delicately threaded with warmth. But beneath the charm, Serena’s pulse fluttered like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.Stefano’s eyes were sharp, watching her every expression.“But why do you look so worried?” she asked, her voice laced with gentle curiosity as she crossed the room toward him.“I had some intense business matters, that's all.” He brushed it off with practiced ease, a ghost of tension still shadowing his words. It was a lie—she could see it in the flicker behind his dark gaze. But he was also… afraid. Not of her. Of something else. Something that might have happened to her. The idea lingered between them unspoken.But just when she thought she had escaped his scrutinizing gaze, she heard him ask. “Your lips… what happened?” Fuck! That bastard, Marco, had bit me. She shrugged it off, “I dunno… probably brushed too hard or bit too hard, I don't remembe
Marco.Through the hidden door he had installed during the latest round of upgrades to the house, Marco slipped out of her room like a shadow fleeing daylight. His breath caught in his throat, each exhale shaky, his pulse thudding like a war drum in his ears. The hallway was quiet—too quiet—but he didn’t dare slow down. Guilt clawed at his chest with every step as he moved swiftly toward the east wing of the manor, to his private suite tucked far from hers.When he finally pushed open the glass doors to his veranda, the cool night air slapped against his face, awakening his senses with a jolt. He leaned over the railing, gripping it until his knuckles turned white once again, his chest rising and falling in short, sharp bursts.What the hell are you doing, Marco?His reflection in the glass door behind him stared back at him like a silent accusation. This wasn’t just a lapse in judgment—it was betrayal. Not just in thought, but in action… He had touched her, kissed her with a roughn
Stefano.The morning heat clung to the Milanese countryside like a shroud. It was thick with tension and the smell of gunpowder enveloped the field. Stefano stood over the body, his jaw tight, his pistol still raised. Smoke curled from the barrel, disappearing into the warm breeze.The man’s blood darkened the dirt beneath him.He had been one of Stefano's own. Trusted. Loyal. Or so he thought.“Selling our weapons to our enemies?” Stefano muttered to himself, fury darkening his features. “And skimming off the top for your own pocket?”The betrayal sliced deep.This wasn’t the first. And wouldn’t be the last.“I’ve buried more of my men this year than I can count,” he said bitterly, addressing the two soldiers standing behind him, both pale, both silent. “Every time I look into one of their eyes, I wonder who’s next.”He stared down at the corpse for a long moment before glancing up. “Clear this mess.”“Yes, Don De Ricco,” they said in unison, dragging the body away without question.
Next Day. The morning sun cast golden warmth across the marble floor of Serena’s room, chasing shadows from the corners and kissing the silk sheets that no longer smelled like him. Her fingers reached over instinctively, searching for warmth that wasn’t there. But he wasn't right next to her.A quiet ache vibrated in her chest, one she tried to ignore. But when she saw a written note resting neatly on the nightstand, she eagerly reached for it. It read: ~ Morning, tésoro mio. Had to leave for urgent business. But I’ve made plans for us today. Wear something you’ll want to remember. —S ~Her lips curved into a faint smile despite herself. He always knew how to tug at her. She held the note against her chest for a second before tossing back the covers and padding to the bathroom.The steam of the hot shower fogged the mirror, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth. But inside her head, it wasn’t peaceful. Marco's voice echoed faintly in her thoughts—his promise to see her soon. That cr
The night had enveloped the entire city.And the room was dimly lit, punctuated by the shimmering light of the chandelier and the fluorescent bedside lamp.Stefano’s eyes burned into her like fire meeting silk. She lay there, bare, her legs spread wide, her gaze seductive and commanding—and still, he was the one completely undone.His breathing deepened as he pulled off his shirt, every slow motion revealing more of his defined torso. Shadows danced over the hard ridges of his chest and abdomen, and Serena’s breath hitched, her body already aching for him.He climbed onto the bed like a predator, slow and deliberate, every inch of his movement a silent promise.He didn’t touch her immediately. He just knelt between her legs and stared.Serena’s body shivered under his gaze. No man had ever looked at her like that. Like she was something sacred. Something dangerous. Something his.Then Stefano leaned down.His tongue slid out, warm and wet, and traced a slow line up the inside of her t
Into the manor they went.Serena’s eyes roamed the expansive interior, tracing the grandeur of it all—the high vaulted ceilings, the gold-framed paintings, the polished marble floor that gleamed under warm lighting. It was opulent but not ostentatious, and it carried a masculine elegance—dark woods, stone, and steel softened by curated pieces that whispered wealth and power.Even Stefano looked around, mildly surprised. Marco had taken initiative, and it showed. The broken ornaments had been restored, the antique frames replaced or repaired. Every corner gleamed with intention. Stefano didn’t know how Marco had pulled it off so quickly, but he silently appreciated it.“My…” Serena’s voice trailed as she gazed around in awe. “It’s... huge.”“It is,” Stefano replied with a faint smile, watching her reaction closely.He led her down a long corridor until they reached a wing adjacent to his. He opened the door to a spacious suite, stepping aside so she could enter first.“I had it furnish
Later that day. Serena moved through her condo with quiet purpose, the soft zip of luggage and the shuffle of items breaking the stillness. She was packing light—only a single bag—despite Stefano’s insistence that she wouldn’t need anything. He had promised to buy her an entirely new wardrobe once they arrived. “Something that suits your elegance,” he had said with that unreadable glint in his eyes.But this wasn’t just about clothing. She slipped her mission files—well-disguised among blank notebooks. These were incriminating things that could ruin the entire mission once he found them, yet she was taking the risk of taking them. She stared for a long moment at the concealed compartment under her nightstand. Inside it sat her metal detector-proof handgun, slim and matte black, resting like a secret. Her fingers hovered over it, but before she could make a decision, a knock sounded at the bedroom door.“Need any help?” came Stefano’s voice.Her heart jumped against her ribs.She cl
The early afternoon sun bled through the linen curtains, casting a warm hue over the living room as Stefano slipped his arms into his jacket. He looked effortlessly sharp, even though he hadn’t changed his outfit in days. A quick smirk played on his lips when he caught Serena eyeing him from the couch.“Stay in. Rest,” he said, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour. Groceries, supplies… and maybe a change of clothes. God knows I need one.”Serena chuckled delightfully. The thought of him restocking for her marveled her. But she liked it a lot, leaning into his touch before he pulled away and headed for the door. The condo felt oddly silent once it closed behind him. For a few moments, she simply sat there, staring at the space he had just left.She hadn’t realized how much safer she felt with him around.Ten minutes hadn’t passed before the silence was broken—by the unmistakable hum of a car engine outside. She peered out the window, assuming it was Stefano
The soft clink of cutlery had long faded into the silence that followed her question—How many have you killed?—and the weight of his answer still lingered in the air between them.I don’t keep count.It should have terrified her. Instead, it made him real.They remained in bed, the sheets tangled around their legs, their bodies close but not touching now. The golden morning light had warmed the room, but a chill had returned, the kind that comes from speaking the kinds of truths most people die with.“So,” she said after a long silence, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “You kill a lot of people.”He gave a quiet laugh—humorless. “They all deserved it, I can assure you.”“I’m not judging,” she said calmly, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.Stefano turned his head toward her, skeptical. “Why?”She met his eyes. “Because I’ve killed too.”His gaze held hers, unreadable at first, then something flickered behind his eyes—curiosity, maybe. Respect. Maybe something da