The Vision She Hid
She pretended not to see. He pretended not to care. Now the whole mafia clan watching them burn.
When Leo Christofides saved a man’s life, she lost everything—her sight, her future as a prima ballerina, and her freedom. For two years, she’s lived in darkness, relying on the man who once promised to be her eyes. But when her vision returned, the first thing she sees is betrayal: her fiancé tangled up with her nurse, wearing the same smile he used to give only to Leo.
Before Leo can escape this nightmare, she’s handed over like a pawn in a blood-soaked stand-off between two gangs. She is sold to an attractive, enigmatic mafia boss with a gun on his hip and secrets in his eyes. His name is Vic, and he introduces her to his clan not as a hostage but as his wife.
Now Leo must play blind in a house full of killers, where power is the only hard currency and trust is a suicide. But she’s not the helpless girl Hermano thinks she is. Leo has a dark secret of her own. She is watching. Waiting. The next move is hers, and it can be deadly.
The Vision She Hid is a dark, seductive thriller dripping in secrets and slow-burn heat, where power struggle meets mafia romance with a blade between its teeth.
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Chapter: 13The bizarre words of the nurse in my mother’s hideaway hit me like a splash of cold water. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t even blink. I slipped into the corridor like a ghost who’d accidentally walked into the room of its own death. My legs carried me away without asking where to go. The corridor stretched ahead like the throat of an ancient beast, greeting me with fragments of faded damask wallpaper and timeworn carpet. It smelt faintly of cold stone, damp, buried secrets, and an expensive scent candle someone had used recently to mask the foul notes. I sobbed and slipped back into it like a shadow on silk. Frankly, I was scared.I didn’t dare breathe too loud. My shoes had been left behind the wardrobe in that strange room, and my bare feet were cold and silent, the kind of silent that feels dangerously illegal. The noise of the laundry downstairs buzzed like a lullaby for the unsuspecting. But in the East wing sounds had gloomy meaning. The time here moved slower, denser, in disturbin
Last Updated: 2025-05-04
Chapter: 12The next morning my mind was preoccupied with the way big guy smiled when he spotted me in the accounting office the other day. It was genuine, human smile of a man who was happy to see someone. I’ve never seen him wearing that smile before. He kind of made my day, if the concept can be applied to a guy like Elky Jennings. It was around six in the morning, and the house was still and quiet. It was the kind of silence that made you ears ring. Not church quiet, not dead-of-night, but the kind of quiet worth listening to. There were no footsteps, no chatter. Not even the clink of glassware being washed carelessly by someone paid too much to care.It felt like the house had swallowed its voice.Big Jennings and his pack were off gnawing at something that needed their sharp teeth, and the air had gone still the moment his car rolled down the gravel.I sat in the glassy drawing room, or maybe it was the solarium—this house had rooms for moods, and I’d lost track somewhere between “Breakfast
Last Updated: 2025-05-01
Chapter: 11The office next door smelled like copper and cheap aftershave, and maybe a little like fear if you had the right nose for it. It was a large room, freshly cleaned, high ceilings, decent office carpet of charcoal color, the kind of place where men with steady hands make their large bets.I stood at the edge of the door, one hand brushing the polished frame, playing blind. My other hand clenched tight around the cane. I was alone. Marta was addressing the mess on the marble column in the room next door. The chatter was humming low and ugly, men’s voices pretending to be calm but landing very south of it. You could feel the tension rolling off their shoulders like smoke off a hot barrel. Big Elky Jennings was not there. I wasn’t that busy, so I lingered. I heard him walking and watched everyone dispersing closer to the walls for moral support. His steps were fast and clipped down the corridor, his shoes eating up the floor. The kind of walk that makes men straighten their backs and think
Last Updated: 2025-04-28
Chapter: 10 Morning in big guy’s house came with the subtlety of a punch in the teeth—bright, polished, and just mean enough to make you wish you’d stayed under the sheets. The sunlight poured in through the tall windows, cutting sharp across the green velvet drapes and scattering gold on the waxed floor. Somewhere down the marble hall, a vacuum cleaner hummed the sad tune of underpaid labor, and the garden fountain kept burbling like it didn’t know people were dying in the rooms upstairs.I was sitting by the window, playing blind so well I deserved an Oscar and a bottle of gin. That particular morning I would settle for the bottle. The sunlight on my face was a little too eager to be jolly, like a drunk at a wedding, and the jasmine near the window was working overtime to cover the smell of gunpowder and dead bodies.Two voices drifted in from the hallway—low, nervous, the kind of voices that have seen far too much blood before breakfast.“…shot clean through. Back of the head,” one of them sa
Last Updated: 2025-04-27
Chapter: 9 The big man took his time with my buttons. One by one, slow and deliberate, like a guy peeling the skin off a lie to see what it is covering up. The blue kaftan slid off my shoulders by a few inches when he suddenly stopped. His chest caught the firelight the way bad news catches headlines—broad, scarred, unapologetic. I made a rushed step back just in case, fighting the urge to touch his shoulder. There was an old bullet mark on the right side near his ribs. Faded, but not invisible. The kind of souvenir one doesn’t put on display. “It is too warm in here,” he said. My eyes were playing dead behind the lashes. I gave him the full blind girl act—the blank stare, the easy breathing, the hands folded neat in my lap like I was waiting for communion. I supposed to hear just fine though. And so I did. I heard the way the wool fabric sighed when he moved. Heard the slide of the leather belt coming loose, buckle clinking soft as a warning. He tossed the belt onto the chair. Turned to th
Last Updated: 2025-04-26
Chapter: 8At this point things caught up with me. I was desperate for a sip of fresh air. I waved my hand just a little, and the maid slid in, accompanied by the frightened butler. “All is fine. I will be back in a minute,” I said with the face of a dying swan. My hand found the maid’s arm, and the big guy didn’t care to object. He was too busy studying a remnants of black pepper sauce on his plate. My legs were weak from the shock and the wine. The maid dragged me outside, down the stone stairs. I pushed her arm away as soon as we reached the garden and got violently sick on top of the buxus hedge. It took me a while, and I was super careful not to spoil the new dress. The air was moist and foggy, no stars on the sky, just the yellow windows of the house. I felt better after throwing up. There were living things around me like green hedges, like freshly-cut grass, and the grumpy owl that flew off the roof in search of her prey. The maid was also good. She stood behind me, gently touching my b
Last Updated: 2025-04-24
The Secret Whisperer
Leila, a young Austrian aristocrat and student in Classics, is drawn into a world of conspiracy and danger when her aunt is involved in a suspicious car accident. Leila travels to her aunt’s chalet to take care of her husky, but soon discovers a body in the drawing room. Terrified, she runs out and bumps into Dick, a nosy English banker who becomes entangled in the mystery.
When they return to the drawing room, the body has disappeared. Leila takes the husky for a walk and discovers that the body has been moved to a house recently purchased by another branch of her family. She finds a notebook with encrypted entries in the drawing room and uses her linguistic skills to decode them. She discovers the initials, address, and phone number of someone involved in the plot.
Leila calls the number and is warned against getting involved. Undeterred, she discovers a bizarre research center where a conference on German mystical past is taking place.She suspects that there is a bizarre cult operating underground. Leila learns about their plan to topple every democracy in Europe. The cult is after an artifact that may be hidden in her aunt’s chalet.
However, this is only the tip of the iceberg. Leila discovers that the aristocratic cult members are pawns in a larger game. They are unknowingly being manipulated to cause disruption in the European banking system using an AI virus.The chaos will cause turmoil in the Euro zone.
As Leila and her aunt race against time to stop the virus from being unleashed, they uncover an even more shocking truth: Leila’s own family members are part of the conspiracy. With betrayal and danger at every turn, Leila must use all of her wit to outsmart the cult.
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Chapter: 26Christina’s eyes went dark, like someone had just switched off the chandelier in a grand ballroom. “My father had an old mask in his collection,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s still somewhere in the attic. He used to tell me this wild story about Nazis organizing a secret expedition to find it. He was pleased to have it, of course. You’re telling me it’s a fake?”Dick Jones gave her a look that could’ve cut through stone. “Not quite. Your piece is a replica—at least three hundred years old, according to Yellen. What bothers me is Yellen came here looking for it and ended up dead. Yet the attic didn’t look disturbed. The mask was still there. That’s what makes my skin itch.”A faint cloud of hesitation swept over Christina’s face, and her eyes misted like fogged glass. “Oh my God. That poor man. I can’t stop thinking about him.”Dick didn’t bother softening his words. “I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s likely Yellen came here to kill you. Somebody else intervened. I’ve
Last Updated: 2025-03-24
Chapter: 25Nosy Dick—or rather, Agent Richard Jones—sat at Christina’s Black Forest table, stripping off his black leather gloves like he was settling in for afternoon tea. Snow dripped off his blue puffer coat in mournful little puddles. Wolfie eyed him suspiciously from her spot by the fire, giving the occasional low grumble just to make sure Dick knew where he stood on the guest list.Leila folded her arms and leaned against the 18th century cast iron stove, casually holding the rifle. “You scared the light out of us, Mr Jones. Sneaking around in the dark is a great way to get shot, you know. Or mauled. Wolfie’s pretty territorial about her lounge space.”Dick gave her a weary smirk, not bothering to even glance at the unnerved husky. “You’d be amazed how often I get shot at. Mostly by people more competent than you.” He pulled a neat silver flask from his coat pocket and took a swig, pulling his face as if the whisky had punched him in the throat. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d have to break
Last Updated: 2025-03-23
Chapter: 24The snow was still falling when Leila pulled the threadbare quilt tighter around her shoulders and glanced over at the notebook lying open on the low table. It looked innocent enough, the cracked leather and yellowed pages giving it the vibe of something that ought to be filled with long-forgotten recipes or notes on which fertilizer worked best for dahlias. But inside she found something else —a mess of Gothic architecture sketches, topographical diagrams and hastily written notes that looked like the fevered scribbling of a medieval cartographer gone mad.“That’s remarkable. Where did you find it?” Christina asked with a notch of suspicion.“Here, in the chalet, in that hidden place I’ve told you about. Wolfie and I were saving the owl that managed to get in through the broken attic window.”Christina leaned closer to the lantern’s dim light, tracing the hasty ink sketch with her finger. The combination of drawings, faint script and crude shapes made the page look like a treasure ma
Last Updated: 2025-03-23
Chapter: 23Leila pulled up to Christina’s hideaway, the car’s headlights slicing through the frostbitten gloom. The house sat hunched against the snow, a dark silhouette of pine and cold secrets. She’d driven fast—too fast for the icy roads—but when your aunt called with that tone, you didn’t stop to admire the scenery. Inside, the room was a furnace. The black iron stove glowed like it was working overtime, and the wood stacked high in the corner promised it wasn’t getting a break anytime soon. Christina was in her usual spot, a blanket over her knees, looking like the queen of a tiny, crumbling empire. Her eyes, though, were sharp and on point, pinning Leila like a hawk spotting prey. “Lock the door,” Christina said. No hello, no pleasantries. Leila did as she was told, the click of the deadbolt echoing louder than it should. “What’s going on?” she asked, pulling off her gloves. She kept her tone light, but her gut was doing flips. Christina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled
Last Updated: 2025-01-30
Chapter: 22That afternoon Leila was waiting for him in wane, as Tom got distracted. His boss decided to pay an unexpected visit. The winter sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the tinted windows of Tom’s high-tech office when Mikhail Grossman decided to darken the door. The man loomed like a storm cloud in an Armani suit, his scowl deep enough to hide a weapon. “Evening, Mikhail,” Tom said with the ease of a man greeting an old friend rather than a mafia boss who snaps necks like breadsticks. He wondered whether Mikhail Grossman heard the news about Vlad. Tom leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “Cut the pleasantries, Tomas,” Grossman growled. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that preceded an earthquake. “You know why I’m here. Your work. The Green Dragon virus—you’re going to hand it over. Now.” Tom chuckled and tapped his fingers on the scratched surface of his desk, where beneath lay layers of encrypted
Last Updated: 2025-01-29
Chapter: 21A tiny, no larger than a pack of cigarettes, combat drone silently fell off the roof two floors above the office where Vlad Voronin was glued to the computer screen. It smoothly descended to his window, peeked out stealthily from behind the wall and froze in the upper left corner. The cameras adjusted the focus to Vlad’s stand-alone laptop. The camera was filming the program commands running in a fast line on a black background.The owner of the computer had no idea about all that. He was busy with the guest. Smiling snottily, Voronin pulled the flash drive out of the laptop and put it inside a small brown envelope.‘That’s perfect,’ he patted his guest on the shoulder.‘I have to return it,’ the guest muttered nervously stretching out his hand. ‘My share, as agreed?’‘Don’t worry,’ Voronin frowned. ‘Assume that you don’t owe us anything anymore. '‘Fine. You have to give me a receipt. For the records.’‘OK,OK. You’ve become too suspicious, Ash,’ Vlad pulled out a four-fold piece of p
Last Updated: 2025-01-29
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