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144: Chaos In The Manor
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2025-06-03 07:01:01The Avancii Estate sprawled over acres of meticulously manicured grounds, a private sanctuary hidden behind towering iron gates that could rival the fortresses of the world’s most powerful.
It was a place of wealth, status, and excess, with every inch carefully crafted to reflect the opulence of House Six. But today, all the wealth in the world couldn’t hide the chaos unfolding inside. The estate’s grounds were bathed in the golden warmth of a late afternoon sun, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass, rich cologne, and sun-warmed marble. The mansion itself, an architectural wonder, balanced old-world elegance with the ruthless edge of modern luxury. High ceilings, chandeliers that could rival the stars in their brilliance, and furniture so luxurious it seemed sculpted from the finest materials—it was a home designed for power, not comfort. An unspoken command of silence lingered in the halls.
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THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 149: Shadows On Water
The sky was a sea of diamonds, the moon casting a soft glow over the luxurious 40-meter yacht that bobbed gently on the dark waters. The deck was bathed in warm golden light, the scent of salt and champagne mixing in the air as music pulsed through the high-end sound system.It should have been a perfect night.But for Miriam DeSantis, everything felt wrong.She sat on one of the plush deck loungers, her arms crossed tightly, a fresh cocktail untouched beside her. Because she was still shaking.Not visibly. Not obviously. But deep inside, under her skin.Samuel had pinned her against a tree.Samuel had warned her—no, promised her—that he would kill anyone who came close to her.Her fingers brushed her throat, feeling the faint soreness there.She hated that she was still thinking about it.She hated that it still made her feel small."—And then he choked the guy out until he
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 148: The Edge Of Violence
The night was perfect—until Samuel returned. The moment his eyes landed on them, his mood turned to poison. Miriam, his Miriam, was standing too close to some random guy, giggling like a starry-eyed fool. Samuel’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t the soft pink blush on her cheeks that set him off. It wasn’t the way she played with the edge of her shirt, looking like some innocent little schoolgirl. It was the fact that some pathetic fuck thought he could touch what belonged to Samuel. His fingers itched for his knives. The darkness curled inside his chest like a purring beast—hungry, possessive, starved. It whispered to him. It always did. She's yours. She's yours. She's yours. Instead, he walked forward, lips curling into an easy, slow smirk—a predator approaching prey. Miriam saw him first. Her breath hitched, her expression flashing
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 147: The Language Of Skin
The sunset bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their private suite like a wound slowly weeping gold. It spilled over the marble floors, over the rumpled silk sheets, over her skin like it belonged there. Outside, the ocean sang in time with their breath—waves crashing in lazy rhythms while the hush of air conditioning tickled the back of her neck. There was salt in the air. Coconut and vanilla, too. But mostly Fiero—a heat-soaked, clean spice scent that lived on his skin and made her feel branded just by breathing. Joy lay sprawled across the bed like a secret only he got to keep. Her bikini clung to her like a second skin, still damp in places from the pool, and her waist bead glinted like temptation between the dip of her hips. Every breath made it shift—sing, almost—and Fiero was looking at it like it was his personal religion. His forearm was braced beside her head,
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 146: Joyride
Hay Port’s Elite Shopping District was a world detached from the rest of society—a glittering mirage where even the shadows were expensive.Towering glass storefronts shimmered under the curated golden lighting, each one housing luxury brands that didn’t bother with price tags. If you had to ask, you didn’t belong.A blood-red SpitFire Lucky rolled to the curb, engine purring like a beast too rich to roar.It gleamed under the lights—part muscle, part art—and for a moment, traffic slowed. Conversations halted. A couple froze mid-selfie. Everyone turned.The doors opened.And The Six stepped out.Samuel emerged first, stretching like a cat, golden rings catching the light. His smile was sharp, slow, and too full of teeth. “God, I love watching people realize they’re poor.”“Samuel,” Joy said without looking at him, adjusting her braided bun with a sigh. “Let’s not make a scene.”“We’re the scene,” he replied, adm
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 145: Six Of A Mess
The Avancii estate’s private horse ranch was a masterpiece of manicured wildness—rolling green fields stretching into the horizon, sunlight glossing the tops of white fences that cleaved the land into pristine pastures. Sleek, well-bred horses grazed like aristocrats of the animal kingdom, flicking tails at flies, ears twitching at distant murmurs. The scent of sun-warmed hay, saddle oil, and the damp churn of earth was thick in the breeze.Stable hands moved through the quiet with reverence—until The Six arrived.“Move, you oversized lawn ornament,” Joy snapped, planting her boots with purpose beside a hulking black stallion who regarded her like an indifferent god. Her braids swayed with each word as she glared. “I swear, if you don’t move, I will turn you into glue.”The stallion blinked slowly, arrogantly. And stayed put.Perched on the fence like a gremlin with zero responsibilities, Mika crunched noisily into a stolen app
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 144: Chaos In The Manor
The Avancii Estate sprawled over acres of meticulously manicured grounds, a private sanctuary hidden behind towering iron gates that could rival the fortresses of the world’s most powerful. It was a place of wealth, status, and excess, with every inch carefully crafted to reflect the opulence of House Six. But today, all the wealth in the world couldn’t hide the chaos unfolding inside. The estate’s grounds were bathed in the golden warmth of a late afternoon sun, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass, rich cologne, and sun-warmed marble. The mansion itself, an architectural wonder, balanced old-world elegance with the ruthless edge of modern luxury. High ceilings, chandeliers that could rival the stars in their brilliance, and furniture so luxurious it seemed sculpted from the finest materials—it was a home designed for power, not comfort. An unspoken command of silence lingered in the halls.
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