ログインGraceGrace 24, Dean 32Something strange began to happen.It started the next morning of my performance. In the beginning I brushed it off and didn't think much of it. My instincts told me it was fine, nothing to worry about. However, now the same instincts were begging me to see what this man outside my studio really wanted.He had been following me for the past five days. Yes, five fucking days. I noticed him on the first day; he was talking to someone on the phone, appearing as just some random dude. The second day, his car went in the same direction as my car went, for three hours. Finally, on the third day, when the danger knocked on me, I witnessed him outside my house and studio.So, yes, I had a stalker, and it took me three days to understand what was happening to me.However, unlike other stalkers, this man only followed me, and every time I entered or left a place he would talk to someone on the phone before following my vehicle. It made me think about his identity, and a
DeanGrace 24, Dean 32The melancholy music hummed through the entire auditorium. Though it was a lamentable piece, the song was about two lovers. Two passionate fellows who lost themselves in each other so deeply that when they found one another, one of them was dead.The moment Grace strummed the first string of her instrument, the song captivated the audience. Others probably were too in-depth in the music, but I was sitting in the first row for another reason.More than the melody, it was the magnificence of the artist that kept me glued to this uncomfortable seat. Her beauty radiated under her white spotlight as she swung right into the music she was playing. Her full-sleeved burgundy gown with her hair in a neat updo, coupled with minimal makeup, brought out a freshness in this room. It was impossible to focus on the music when she was sitting there. Any man with a functioning dick would feel a little thing in the lower part of the body. Just the way I was feeling.Grace's eye
GraceGrace 24, Dean 32Tonight, I had two choices.Obey my father—or watch Daphne die in that locked attic.Even a little measure of using the power room would be used against me. The gun pointing at the head would, at any time, fire a bullet and end the life.I would have merrily taken the bullet, but the problem was that the gun was pointing at Daphne, who was locked in the attic. Still unconscious, not because of the drug she took last night, but more because the drug was pushed into her system by our father.This was how Mayor Hale fulfilled most of his wicked wishes. He was aware of my weakness and never hesitated to take advantage of that. He probably understood my vulnerability as a liberty he could hold whenever, wherever, however he wished. Little did he know, I was losing my patience. While yes, Daphne was my responsibility. Yes, I vowed to protect her from all the cruelty of this world. And yes, I took my promises as seriously as our father took the upcoming election.Ye
DeanGrace 24, Dean 32Honestly, I loathed violence. Brutality was in my DNA, whether I liked it or not. The day I was born into the Moretti family, my fate was sealed in this area. I held a gun for the first time at the young age of seven, the day Dad and I went on a hunt in the woods. My mother was reluctant to send me on this voyage with my father. I remembered how much she roared that particular bright morning. She even pointed a gun at my father, but when she lost the overly protective mother game, she tried to negotiate with Dad.She told Dad he wouldn't bring violence near me, and in return she would go to our grandparents' house for dinner. Mom disdained Moretti's family house and people in it. That morning she swallowed the bitter pill for her son's betterment.Mom did keep her part of the deal, but Dad, he broke it the moment we set foot in the woods. He pulled out a Smith and Wesson model 686 and thrust it in my hands with zero hesitation.Whatever you were thinking, let
Grace 24 Dean 32I should have been in my studio an hour ago practicing ‘Cello Suite No. 1 in G major’ for my upcoming concert, which was on Sunday. Two days from today.Yet here I was in the mansion, pacing in my bedroom with anxiety as my only companion.Was I actually worried about Daphne?Well, no. She knew what was coming when she left the house, rode her on-and-off boyfriend's car, and ended up on that tiled floor.The silence that loomed around the walls made me feel uneasy. "Weird" was an understatement to describe the silence. Especially in a house where someone was always making mistakes. The world recognized my father as a mayor who joked around and was fond of laughing with everyone. He was the man this city adored just as much as they did Morgan Freeman. Mayor Hale was everywhere, doing something for mankind, and of course, giving back to the society that helped him stay in power for the past fifteen years. Playing basketball with seniors, raising money for the homeless
DeanGrace 24, Dean 32My eyes found her the moment she entered the club. “Mirage” was one of the exclusive nightclubs in downtown Manhattan and was fortunately owned by me. We opened this place six months ago. Our intention was clear: keep Mirage clean, in the front for the vultures to watch.Enzo found this shadiest warehouse a year ago and transformed it into a lavish, high-class nightclub. This was where we did most of our meetings when I was in the city. The money we earned through the weapons and smuggling went to the club expansion. There was no loophole in our business, no crack, and certainly no mistake.Tonight, Enzo and I were here for a quiet night. Enzo flew down the state this morning from Italy, where my family still lived.Although for half of the year I was here, Italy still remained in my heart. My widowed mother, two younger sisters, and extended family happily resided in our hundred-year-old family mansion.In recent years, New York had become equally important







