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Every masterpiece holds a secret, but the Vermicelli Collection hides more than mere history-it's a vault of sins. When struggling curator Isabella Reyes is offered the chance to restore the world's most elusive art collection, it feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. But the deeper she dives into the priceless relics, the more she uncovers the Vermicelli family's dark legacy-a legacy of stolen artifacts, betrayal, and greed. Drawn to the enigmatic billionaire Luca Vermicelli, Isabella finds herself trapped between love and the truth. Is he seeking redemption, or is he merely hiding the past? As secrets unravel, Isabella must decide: expose the truth and risk everything, or stay silent and live a lie. In the shadows of the art world, some histories are best left buried.
It's 7:30 in the morning, and I'm already behind. The coffee shop on the corner was out of my usual, and the caffeine in the watered-down substitute is barely enough to shake off the exhaustion clinging to my bones.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard of my old, beat-up car and press harder on the gas. My life as an art curator isn't supposed to be glamorous, but it wasn't supposed to be this exhausting either.
I pull into the parking lot of the gallery-a modest space tucked between two luxury boutiques. I've worked here for five years, scraping by, hoping for my big break.
In art school, I had dreams of restoring priceless works, of being in the same room as the masters, but reality hit hard. Instead, I spend most of my days cataloging minor pieces, organizing exhibitions that barely break even, and managing a staff of two part-timers who care more about their phone screens than the art in front of them.
As I step into the gallery, the familiar smell of dust and canvas greets me. My boss, Mr. Jenkins, is already at his desk, eyes glued to his computer screen. I drop my bag by my desk and log in, already preparing for another day of juggling too many tasks with too little time.
"Morning, Isabella," Jenkins calls without looking up. "Got the proposal for the new exhibit?"
I freeze. "Oh, right. The proposal. I'm working on it."
He doesn't respond, and I let out a breath. It's not entirely a lie. I have been working on it, just not as much as I should be. Between managing the gallery's declining finances and trying to salvage what little reputation we have left, writing up an exhibit proposal for a collection we don't even have feels pointless.
I glance at the half-empty coffee cup on my desk, and the weight of it all settles over me like a fog. The gallery is struggling. I'm struggling. There's no big break coming, no mysterious patron waiting in the wings to save us. Just another day of keeping everything afloat, praying something will change.
But nothing ever does.
By noon, the gallery is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices from a small group of tourists wandering through the exhibit space. I lean against my desk, massaging my temples. The budget report sits in front of me like a cruel joke. We're in the red again. Another month of losses.
The gallery's main exhibit, an uninspiring collection of mid-20th-century sculptures, isn't bringing in the crowds we need. Every exhibit feels like a compromise-never enough money, never enough time, never the pieces I dream of showcasing. It's a slow suffocation, watching the passion I once had for art fade under the weight of financial strain.
My phone buzzes on the desk, and I glance at the screen: **Mom Calling.**
I hesitate, then swipe to answer. "Hey, Mom."
"How's work, honey?" Her voice is warm, but I can hear the underlying concern. She knows I'm struggling, even if I try to hide it.
"It's fine. Just the usual chaos." I force a smile, even though she can't see it.
"You work so hard, Isabella. Maybe it's time to think about something else. You've been with that gallery for years, and I just want to see you happy."
I sigh. We've had this conversation before. "I know, but it's not that simple. I've worked too hard to just walk away."
"Sometimes walking away isn't giving up, sweetheart. Sometimes it's the right choice."
I nod, even though I don't believe it. I love art. I love the work, even when it's hard. But love doesn't pay the bills. "I'll be fine, Mom. I've got a few things in the works."
We chat for a few more minutes before hanging up. As I set the phone down, I stare at the crumbling foundation of my career, wondering if I've been lying to myself all along. Is this really what I want? Is this what I worked so hard for?
I glance at the clock-2:15 p.m. There's a staff meeting in fifteen minutes, but my motivation is already drained. I rub my eyes, exhaustion pulling at every muscle in my body.
Jenkins passes by my desk, a file in his hand. "Isabella, we've got another vendor coming in this afternoon. Make sure you're available to meet with them."
"Sure thing," I mumble, already feeling the weight of another pointless meeting. We're weeks away from hosting a small exhibition on modern ceramics, and the vendor will likely be trying to sell us more overpriced pieces we can't afford. It's all starting to feel like a hamster wheel-running in circles, but never getting anywhere.
By the time the day ends, I'm drained. My mind keeps cycling through the same questions: *Is this all there is?* I wanted more.
I dreamed of curating prestigious exhibits, of handling pieces that told stories of long-forgotten cultures. Instead, I'm stuck in this endless loop of mediocrity, barely holding on.
I lock up the gallery and step into the fading evening light, the city bustling around me as if mocking my stillness. Another day done. Another day closer to what? I don't even know anymore.
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The apartment is quiet when I get home, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the creak of the old wooden floorboards under my tired feet. I drop my keys on the counter and kick off my shoes, feeling the weight of the day press harder with each step. The gallery is hanging by a thread, and so am I.
I slump onto the couch, staring blankly at the stack of bills on the coffee table. Each one feels like a reminder of how far I am from the life I dreamed of. The art world isn't what I thought it would be. I envisioned prestige, creativity, and passion. Instead, I've been handed long hours, dwindling budgets, and a gallery that's barely making rent.
Resting my head back, I close my eyes, trying to block out the nagging worry that gnaws at me. Every time I try to come up with a plan, a solution, all I see are dead ends. More exhibits, more outreach, more promotions-none of it feels like enough to save the gallery. I've given five years to this place. Five years of hope, but all I have to show for it is this suffocating sense of failure.
Maybe my mom was right. Maybe it's time to leave, find something else-something less draining. But the thought of walking away from art, from everything I've worked for, twists my stomach. How do you let go of a dream, even when it's slipping through your fingers?
I sigh, reaching for my laptop on the coffee table. There's an email from Mr. Jenkins reminding me about the same exhibit. An exhibition we'll struggle to sell. My fingers hover over the keyboard, debating whether to reply, but something keeps me still. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe there's still something I can do to turn it all around.
For now, all I can do is hope that tomorrow brings something better.
It all started the day my pack was ambushed and brutally killed. I went to my Beta mate for protection, only to find out that my power hungry mate, Silas Vale was having an affair with Genevieve Ravenfold, an Alpha female of his pack. Who was heavily pregnant with his unborn child. Silas told me that I was a failure. A pathetic Luna changeling without a pack, and that he had no more use for me. To make sure I was out of his way, he drugged me full of wolfsbane and sold me off to Lycan traders. I woke up in an underground trafficking ring, bound in heavy silver chains and put in an iron cage to be sold to the highest bidder. I desperately called out to my mate, but he had abandoned me. Feeling Hurt and angry, I severed our mate bond. This made me unexpectedly shift into my Wolf form, which is a Rune marked silver wolf. Unfortunately making me the most prized werewolf in existence. I was bought by a psychotic Alpha known as Balthazar Graves, who saw and treated me as nothing but a power wolf breed that would give him an heir. Chained up and left for dead on the night of the Blood moon, My wolf emerged and I escaped the Psychotic Alpha Balthazar. I was found, nurtured and trained by my True mate who turned out to be Cassius Noctbourne, the Alpha King of Noctshire. As his Alpha Queen, vengeance was mine and I grabbed it with both paws
"Never let anyone treat you like shit!" I learned that the hard way. For three years, I lived with my in-laws. They didn't treat me as their son-in-law but as a slave. I put up with everything because of my wife, Yolanda Lambert. She was the light of my life. Unfortunately, my whole world came crashing down the day I caught my wife cheating on me. I have never been so heartbroken. To have my revenge, I revealed my true identity. I was none other than Liam Hoffman—the heir of a family with trillions of dollars in assets! The Lamberts were utterly shocked after the big reveal. They realized what fools they had been for treating me like trash. My wife even knelt down and begged for my forgiveness. What do you think I did? Did I take her back or made her suffer? Find out!
Maria took her sister’s place and was engaged to Anthony, a disabled man who had lost his status as the family heir. At first, they were just a nominal couple. However, things changed when things about Maria were gradually exposed. It turned out she was a professional hacker, a mysterious composer, and the sole successor to an international jade sculpting master… The more that was revealed about her, the less Anthony could rest easy. A famous singer, an award-winning actor, an heir of a rich family—so many excellent men were chasing after his fiancee, Maria. What should Anthony do?
"I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." Darcy stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You're not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze." My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked. "Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She stared at me in the mirror. "You can't even glance at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of gazing at that scar?" Heather Bailey got a surprise from her husband: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. She was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman. After signing the divorce papers, shockwaves caught her up. Her flower shop was burned to the ground. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her. She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers from influential families, she started her revenge on Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted, but that was just the beginning.
Lindsey's fiancé was the devil's first son. Not only did he lie to her but he also slept with her stepmother, conspired to take away her family fortune, and then set her up to have sex with a total stranger. To get her lick back, Lindsey decided to find a man to disrupt her engagement party and humiliate the cheating bastard. Never did she imagine that she would bump into a strikingly handsome stranger who was all that she was currently looking for. At the engagement party, he boldly declared that she was his woman. Lindsey thought he was just a broke man who wanted to leech off her. But once they began their fake relationship, she realized that good luck kept coming her way. She thought they would part ways after the engagement party, but this man kept to her side. "We gotta stick together, Lindsey. Remember, I'm now your fiancé. " "Domenic, you're with me because of my money, aren't you?" Lindsey asked, narrowing her eyes at him. Domenic was taken aback by that accusation. How could he, the heir of the Walsh family and CEO of Vitality Group, be with her for money? He controlled more than half of the city's economy. Money wasn't a problem for him! The two got closer and closer. One day, Lindsey finally realized that Domenic was actually the stranger she had slept with months ago. Would this realization change things between them? For the better or worse?
Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms once at peace. The kingdom of Salem and the kingdom of Mombana... Until the day, the king of Mombana passed away and a new monarch took over, Prince Cone. Prince Cone, has always been hungry for more power and more and more. After his coronation, he attacked Salem. The attack was so unexpected, Salem never prepared for it. They were caught off guard. The king and Queen was killed, the prince was taken into slavery. The people of Salem that survived the war was enslaved, their land taken from them. Their women were made sex slaves. They lost everything, including their land. Evil befall the land of Salem in form of Prince Cone, and the prince of Salem in his slavery was filled with so much rage. The prince of Salem, Prince Lucien swore revenge. 🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳 Ten years later, thirty-years old Lucien and his people raided a coup and escaped slavery. They went into hiding and recuperated. They trained day and night under the leadership of the fearless and cold Lucien who was driven with everything in him to get back their land, and take Mombana land too. It took them five years before they ambushed and attacked Mombana. They killed Prince Cone and reclaimed everything. As they screamed out their victory, Lucien's eyes found and pinned the proud princess of Mombana. Princess Danika. The daughter of Prince Cone. As Lucien stared at her with the coldest eyes anyone can ever possess, he felt victory for the first time. He walked to the princess with the slave collar he'd won for ten years rattling in his hand as he walked. He reached close to her and with a swift movement, he collared her neck. Then, he tilted her chin up, staring into the bluest eyes and the most beautiful face ever created, he gave her a cold smile. "You are my acquisition. My slave. My sex slave. My property. I will pay you in spades, everything you and your father ever did to me and my people." He stated curtly. Pure hatred, coldness and victory was the only emotion on his face. .
When Corynn mustered up the courage to tell Elliot about her pregnancy, she unexpectedly found him gallantly helping another woman from his car. Her heart sank as three years of effort to secure his love crumbled before her eyes, compelling her to leave him behind. Three years later, life had taken Corynn down a new path with someone else, while Elliot was left grappling with regret. Seizing a moment of vulnerability, he pleaded, "Corynn, let's get married." Shaking her head with a faint smile, Corynn gently replied, "Sorry, I'm already engaged."