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A monster

Author: Erotictales
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-22 23:23:15

"W-What?" I asked, my green eyes wide.

What could Milo possibly want from me?

He hated me when I dated his son two years before. He treated me like scum on his shoe and never failed to remind me that I wasn't good enough for Ivan. He was the reason we only lasted a month.

All because I was an addict's daughter.

"I asked you what you are willing to do to save your father," he said as he got up from the couch and stepped into the light. I nearly gasped at the intensity in his gray stormy eyes.

I was on the ground kneeling with tears streaming from my eyes. I didn't want my father to die, even if it came at the cost of my life. Viktor was the only family I had left. How could I abandon him?

Milo stood before me and lifted my chin gently. I raised my eyes to look at him and I could have sworn I saw darkness flash in his pools of gray. He exuded sex appeal, danger, and mystery.

Everyone knew he was a murderer but did a murderer look at you like he could undress you with his eyes? Did a murderer make butterflies flutter in your stomach? Did a murderer make your whole body tingle with desire?

"Answer me, little girl. What are you willing to do?" He asked but it seemed like he already had an answer.

I wasn't stupid. I had an idea of what he wanted. Even while I was dating his son, it was hard to deny the chemistry between us, if the stolen glances we sneaked at each other when no one was watching and the tension that had been building from the moment we met was anything to go by.

"Anything…"

The smile he cracked was enough to scare the bravest person in the world. He dropped my chin and crouched down to my level. In one breath, his hand was on the back of my head, pulling me close.

Our faces were inches apart and our breaths were mingling. The loud thumping of my heart drowned out every other noise. I was scared shitless of Milo and intrigued at the same time.

He brought his face to my neck and took a deep inhale. I closed my eyes, relishing the closeness. I was supposed to hate him especially after he threatened to kill my father.

But I didn't. Everywhere his hands touched ignited with a fire so hot it made me sweat.

He brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, "Good. I look forward to seeing you soon, little girl."

He let me go and left with all his men.

The whole incident felt like a dream. If someone told me it didn't happen, I would believe them.

Viktor rushed to me with tears in his eyes. I had never seen that man cry. "This is all my fault. I should have never taken drugs from him."

His tears didn't mean anything to me. Milo may have looked and felt appealing but he was a bad man. He had killed more times than he could count and destroyed many lives.

He was the reason my life was a mess. If he wasn't selling drugs, Viktor would have never become an addict. Instead, he would have treated me the way fathers were supposed to treat their daughters.

My mother left when I was eight and Viktor was never the same. He was barely a parent and he was rarely ever sober. I had to work all my life to put myself through school.

But for some reason, I always hoped he would change. He never did.

He stole money from me and manipulated me into giving him money for drugs. I couldn't count the number of times I had been called to the hospital after he overdosed. Every single time I was called, I thought it was the last.

He didn't understand the fear of knowing you could lose a parent at any moment. I had taken him to rehab multiple times but he had never gotten clean. He wasn't ready to stop.

"Emilie—"

"You are a selfish fucking bastard!" I yelled with tears in my eyes. "You almost got yourself killed today!"

He didn't seem moved by my words. The fear had already faded from his body since Milo and his men were already gone.

"It's not too late to save yourself. Go back home, pack your items, and leave."

I stared at Viktor like he was crazy. Milo would find me anywhere I ran to and kill me in an instant. Not to mention how he would kill Viktor once I was gone. It was too risky.

"You know very well we will both be hunted and killed."

He tried to grab my hand but I stopped him. I wasn't ready to listen to any of his excuses. He was always digging himself into a hole that he knew I would have to dig him out of.

A parent was supposed to take care of the child and not the other way around.

"I'm sorry Emilie—"

"Unfortunately your apology is useless. These are dangerous people, Viktor. This is not your average dealer. He is the King of Russia. Can you go back in time and avoid the Bratva? "

When he didn't answer, I said, "I thought so."

I left immediately. If I looked at his face any longer, I would curse him out and it wouldn't be pretty. He didn't understand that I was still buzzing with fear. My heart was still racing.

As soon as I stepped out into the cold, I received a text message from an unknown number.

It read:

You're my slave now. Run and I will find you and kill your father in front of you. Don't test me, little girl.

Just like that, my world collapsed. My life and my father's were now in the hands of a monster with no empathy or emotions. )

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    Blood in the WaterWord traveled faster than bullets.Milo had stepped back. Not in whispers, not in back-alley murmurs. No, this was announced in the language criminals respected most: silence followed by blood.The first to test me was the Andalusian crew. They intercepted a Bratva shipment at the coastal docks,six men masked in black, loaded with guns, and just dumb enough to think I was Milo-light.The second was subtler. A whisper bounty. My photo, printed and folded into a red envelope, was passed around in gambling dens and underground rings. It carried no price. That was the insult,as if I wasn’t worth a number.I stayed still. I let the fire come.Because queens don’t chase chaos. They weaponize it.I stood at the window of the meeting room, watching the city breathe beneath me. Somewhere below, an apartment had gone up in flames."You don’t test a queen with fire," I said to no one in particular. "You drown her enemies in it."My orders were quiet. Precise. I didn’t scream.

  • Affair With My my Ex's Billionaire Father    reeked

    The dining hall reeked of fear.The body was gone,cleared away like an afterthought. But the ghosts lingered. Wine glasses stood half-full. Chairs shoved back in panic. Silverware scattered like dropped confessions. The chandelier still sparkled above it all, indifferent and glittering.I walked barefoot.No heels. No need.My gown whispered across the marble as I moved between abandoned seats, a goblet in hand, the rim kissed with wine and something darker. My shadow stretched long across the floor, cutting through candlelight like a blade.The chandelier’s gold arms trembled above me. Still lit. Still proud. Like it hadn’t just watched a man die.The wine in my glass swirled like blood, catching the low light, still warm from the touch of fear and heat of deceit. A thin ribbon of it dripped down my knuckle, over the ring Milo had given me months ago, before I earned it.Milo stood in the shadows, back against

  • Affair With My my Ex's Billionaire Father    Iron

    The room smelled like smoke, iron, and something older,blood maybe, or betrayal.Milo leaned against the edge of his desk, one arm bandaged, the other curled around a glass of bourbon he hadn’t touched. His suit was still stained at the collar. His eye was split. But his presence? Unshaken.“You should be in a hospital,” I said, not out of concern. Just observation.He smiled. Not soft. Sharp.“So should the three men I killed. But they’re not breathing anymore.”I closed the door behind me, slow, deliberate. My heels clicked like a countdown.“Why am I here?”He set the glass down. Didn’t sip. Just looked at me like I already knew the answer.“It’s time,” he said. “I want you beside me. Officially. Publicly.”“I’ve always been beside you.”“Not like this.”He tossed a small velvet box across the desk. I didn’t flinch. Caught it. Opened it. into it like a crest: a r

  • Affair With My my Ex's Billionaire Father    edge

    I gripped the edge of the chair beside me and said the only thing I could. My voice wasn’t a whisper, but it wasn’t strong either. It hung in the air like breath before a scream. “You found me.” Milo didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. He took two steps in, slow and steady, the way you approach a ghost you still love. “You wanted to be found,” he said, voice low. “Even if you don’t want to admit it. Even if part of you still thinks you can outrun the ending.” I stared at him, chest tight. “Wanting to be found isn’t the same as being ready to be seen,” I said. And the silence that followed felt like it cut deeper than anything we’d said in months. I took a step forward. It hurt. Everything hurt,my legs, my back, my pride. But I stood tall anyway, like the ache was just part of the costume. “He was all I had left,” I said. The words felt scraped out of me. “Everyt

  • Affair With My my Ex's Billionaire Father    Creaked

    The estate creaked in places it never had before.Not from old pipes or the weight of weather,but from something subtler.The way grief lived in silence.It shifted the air.Softened the carpets.Made door hinges groan even when they didn’t move.The house was mourning too.I couldn’t sleep. Not really.I’d been staring at the ceiling for over an hour, tracing the hairline cracks that hadn’t been there yesterday.My hands lay folded over my stomach, like they were waiting for something to return.But nothing was coming.Not dreams. Not peace. Just the steady weight of breath in a body that refused to shut down.My chest rose and fell like I was practicing being alive.And maybe I was.Every inhale tasted stale. Every exhale felt like surrender.I wasn’t crying. But my ribs ached like I had been for hours.Down the hall, the light under Milo’s door hadn’t gone out.So

  • Affair With My my Ex's Billionaire Father    Van

    I didn’t move when the van pulled up. My arms locked over my chest, nails digging crescent moons into my sleeves. My jaw stayed clenched until the ache started to bloom behind my ears. It was either that,or let something leak out.The rear doors creaked open.Two men stepped forward, their movements stiff with quiet precision. No wasted motion. No words exchanged. They reached inside and lifted the casket like they’d done it a hundred times.It didn’t make a sound as they brought it down. No thud. No rattle. Just the whisper of polished wood against metal rails. I used to imagine holding him in my arms. A blanket. A lullaby. His father's eyes. My hands around his tiny body, warm and alive.But this was a different kind of cradle now.It didn’t make a sound as they brought it down. No thud. No rattle. Just the whisper of polished wood against metal rails.I stared at it, waiting for something,anything,to hit. A nois

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