I need to be meek, obedient, silent being me is volatile. Me and my mom shouldn't co exist with one another we're to explosive to handle too scheming to unravel, welcome to my world!
I need to be meek, obedient, silent being me is volatile. Me and my mom shouldn't co exist with one another we're to explosive to handle too scheming to unravel, welcome to my world!
Mother keeps glaring at Mia our border slash prostitute for habitually taking her customer in the villa, mind you she's fun to be around, she always give a great stash of sweets that earned her another black marks from my mom.
" Earning your bread should be within your work area, how many times should I tell you to keep it away from here?"
" You're also doing my line of work, why so pretentious?"
" There's unwritten line between being tacky, vulgar, and society correct conduct." Mia glared saucily at Brenda upon hearing the words, then suddenly laugh mirthlessly.
" You mean to say, we should be elegant ladies while whoring ourselves for a few bucks?"
" Why not? This villa should'nt be tainted."
" Why not? Care to explain why it's not fucking so?"
" Language my dear." Mia rolled her eyeballs and right now I can feel the agitation in her voice, she's exasperated to my mom's, 'oh so meticulous behavior'.
" Another unwritten rule between tacky, vulgar, and society correct conduct my dear Brenda?"
" If you put it that way -"
" And now you left me hanging, would you like to elaborate this attitude of being high and mighty and mind you you're always shoving this crap."
" Attitude my dear, she's within earshot, and don't go rolling that eyeballs again it's not great on you." Mia's jaw slacked a minute or two before she gathered her bearings.
" She knows what we're doing and please stop lecturing me once again with being socially correct. I'll gonna puked on your dammed face." I know Mia got a steely glare, mother is so formidable, not just in attitude but also in build. She's not a softy kind of woman, with frills and ribbons. She's handsome with sturdy stature, angular face and an elegant attitude through and through.
" I know Mia, but I drilled her to be a perfect lady."
" You have a lot of mystery Brenda than the rosary you always keep during Sunday mass. I really can't fathom the depths of your thinking."
"Just keep your source of bread away from here."
"Sure as you say my lady, " Mia bowed mockingly with a slight tilt of her head before straightening she winked at my direction.
I cheekily grinned and followed the shadowy part of the villa, catching up with Mia before she hit the sack.
" Hey little one, look at you always dressed to impress!" She cockily observed. I can't help the bubbly emotions and laugh freely. She hug me dearly to muffled my laughter. Then when my laughter subside she peeled me gently an inch away from her hunched position.
" A lady shouldn't laugh recklessly," we simultaneously recite, it's one of the creed an oath mother incalcute in me.
She looked at me making sure I'm looking at her eyes. It's the first time I saw her so determined, so focused and full of love.
" Remember these two words my little one, run and hide."
" Why?" I asked curiously.
" You're your mother's daughter, you're intelligent enough, be sassy, don't hide your true self." She cut the eye contact and kissed me fervently on my forehead, " run along little one, practice the art of hide and seek, God forbid I'm so worn-out! I'm hitting the sack."
" Thank you Mia, you're the best!"
" I know right! But still no sweet treats for you that's the only concensus I have with your overbearing mother."
" You love her." I state the obvious.
" Of course I do. I'm the only one who can withstand her atrocity, and only Me can put some sense in her airy head."
I hugged her one last time before I head out of her room. I closed the door quietly before mom catch me going out of Mia's room. It's a great taboo for me to freely get in and get out to any rented rooms in the villa. My time should religiously go to different sessions with selected tutors and instructors.
Abandoned as a child and orphaned by murder, Kathryn swore she'd reclaim every shred of her stolen birthright. When she returned, society called her an unpolished love-child, scoffing that Evan had lost his mind to marry her. Only Evan knew the truth: the quiet woman he cradled like porcelain hid secrets enough to set the city trembling. She doubled as a legendary healer, an elusive hacker, and the royal court's favorite perfumer. At meetings, the directors groaned at the lovey-dovey couple, "Does she really have to be here?" Evan shrugged. "Happy wife, happy life." Soon her masks fell, and those who sneered bowed in awe.
Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."
"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?
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.
I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.
The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.
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