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.
The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.
After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."
Elena, once a pampered heiress, suddenly lost everything when the real daughter framed her, her fiancé ridiculed her, and her adoptive parents threw her out. They all wanted to see her fall. But Elena unveiled her true identity: the heiress of a massive fortune, famed hacker, top jewelry designer, secret author, and gifted doctor. Horrified by her glorious comeback, her adoptive parents demanded half her newfound wealth. Elena exposed their cruelty and refused. Her ex pleaded for a second chance, but she scoffed, "Do you think you deserve it?" Then a powerful magnate gently proposed, "Marry me?"
In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?
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