Andrès was accused of murdering his boss. The boss of the company he and his wife works for. He was shocked by the accusation and betrayal of his wife and best friend but there was nothing he could do to prove his innocence because the CCTV footage in his boss’ office caught him serving his boss the tea that was spiked. He was tired in court and was given a life sentence for the murder of his boss’ death. Eventually, fate was on his side and he got out earlier than he ever imagined. Upon his return, he found out that his wife got married to his best friend. Driven by rage, he began working for a cartel and soon climbed the ladder, becoming the most ruthless Mafia boss. To some people, he is legendary and a ghost lord. With vengeance in his heart, he is out for blood. Go with me on this journey, to know what happens in this twisted triangle… Will ya?
View More~Not All That Glitters is Gold~
"Damn it, Andrès!" Emilia yelled at her husband in a fury. "What is this, Emilia? What are you getting so worked up about?" Andrès inquired, his voice tinged with confusion. "Are you actually slow? Or are you just pretending to be slow? She spat, with no remorse. "I am neither, but I need you to explain what this is about." Andrès requested. "Oh, Sweet Lord..." Emilia became frustrated and rubbed her tempo. "My friends always go shopping for nice things and take vacations with their husbands." Here I am, being mocked at every chance they get for being so broke and sticking to your sorry ass." She nagged. Andrès understood why she was fighting after hearing what she said, but he still did not get her point. She seemed to be trying to insinuate something, but she had not quite nailed it. Her nagging eventually became an echo in the room, but he still needed her to relax and understand him. He needed her to understand that not everything that glitters is gold, but how could he possibly explain this to someone who is obsessed with new bags and shoes? He tried his best in making sure she didn't lack, but it felt like no matter what he does, it was never enough for her. Her eyes would always be fixed on big things. He took a deep breath in and gently pulled her closer to himself, "I am sorry baby, but everything will be fine soon." He tried to reassure her, but his words went unheard. "The boss adores you; in fact, you are the employee he values the most. Use this to your advantage and become wealthy. Dummy!" Andrès was perplexed by what she spat out this time. "Please, my love, stop fighting me." Andrès urged, clutching her tender hands into his. She snatched her hands away from him and gave him a death stare: "If you truly value this marriage and want it to last, the best advice I can give you is to stay the hell away from me." She warned him and dashed out of the house, picking up her phone. Andrès remained in the same position, allowing the silence to envelop him. The slam of the door echoed in his ear, leaving him with the hope that she would be calm when she returned. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, and she was yet to return home, which became cause for concern. The ticking of the clock on the wall filled the air, making his wait increasingly uncomfortable. He kept pacing back and forth in the living room, checking his phone for messages from her. He buried his face in his hands, overcome with fear of losing her. In the stillness of the night and the quiet solitude of the house, Andrès was startled by a sudden sound at the door. "I apologize; the door was open and I let myself in." His best friend, Gael, said to him. "It is absolutely fine, man. I assumed it was Emilia." Andrès responded coldly. "What is wrong with you?" "You look like shit!" "I would be surprised if I don't." Andrès responded, his mood remaining sullen. Geal took a seat beside Andrès and placed his left hand on his shoulder, "Tell me what is going on." He persuaded him. Andrès explained everything to Gael, and until he finished, Gael did not interrupt him. "She is simply being a woman. I believe she is acting out because she wants to have flashy things like her friends do. There is nothing wrong with wanting those nice things. Gael encouraged Andrès, who was wearing a blank expression. "Do not look at me that way; you know I am correct. I will speak with her, okay? She will eventually come around." "Please do; I do not want to lose her. Please..." Andrès pleaded with Gael. "You will not, okay. I need to get home now; I just stopped by because I was in the neighborhood. Gael said to him. "Thank you," Andrès said, as he watched Gael exit the door and his footsteps fade away. He quickly fell asleep on the couch while waiting for Emilia's return. Andrès is awakened by raindrops on the window after only a few hours of sleep. He rubbed his eyes to remove any remnants of sleep, and then recalled sleeping on the couch while waiting for his wife to return home. He got up from the couch and walked to the bedroom, hoping to see her there, but was disappointed to find the bed exactly as he left it and the room empty too. He rubbed his forehead in frustration before returning to the living room to retrieve his phone and call her. He was concerned about her whereabouts and safety. She did not respond to any of the calls he had placed for her after several rings. He decided to call Gael because he had promised to help him talk to Emilia about returning home, and there had been no word from him either. He tried calling Geal's phone several times but received no response. He kept on trying to reach the both of them for a few minutes, but he received no response. He gave up and went into the bedroom to sleep, hoping that they were safe and that he would wake up to find his wife in the morning. As he lay on the bed, he could not help but have negative thoughts about the worst-case scenario. He ignored them because he could not imagine his life without her in it. He laid still on the bed, his back against the surface of the bed and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He kept looking at it as he tried to imagine Emilia laying right next to him with her usual happy smiling face. But his face was instantly etched in a frown when he realized she wasn't there. She was somewhere else and he had no idea if she was safe. He feared that something bad might have happened to her.Elena sat curled up in the amber colored armchair of her small study, the rim of her coffee cup hovering just beneath her lips. The bitter liquid had long gone cold, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were fixed on the antique wall clock that ticked steadily in defiance of her rising anxiety. It was already past nine, and there was still nothing. No documents, no message, no confirmation—nothing from Bruce. She was extremely worried and the thought of him calling her sent shivers down her spine.The lamp on her desk cast a soft golden halo over the scattered papers and open folders. In the dim light, the sharp angles of her face were more pronounced, her tired eyes shadowed with worry. Her gaze fell on the worn photograph pinned to the corkboard above her desk—her sister, smiling beside a man whose face had been hastily scratched out in black ink. It was the only thing Elena hadn’t brought herself to throw away.With a weary sigh, she leaned back and rubbed her temples. “I won't give u
Mateo sat hunched over in a leather chair, a glass of Grappa half-finished on the table beside him. His tailored black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his Sleek black hair hung in front of his eyes as he stared at the silent screen of his phone as if expecting a call. He rubbed his eyes hoping he didn't look as bad as he looked whenever he had sleepless nights.The silence broke suddenly with a sharp buzz. A name flashed across the screen: Elena.He answered without hesitation."Well?" Mateo's voice was clipped, low, and impatient.On the other end, Elena sighed, tired but composed. "Still working on it."Mateo gritted his teeth. "Elena, you already have enough time.I need results, not excuses.""I'm not a magician,Mister. I'm really trying my best but you have to trust me."Mateo stood up abruptly, pacing the room. His bare feet padded across the cold wooden floor as he ran a hand through his hair."You’ve got twenty-four hours? After that, I will find someone who can finish
“My order is still not here.” Emily muttered bitterly, no matter how upset she was she was too weak to argue.“ All orders are cancelled.” A calm voice replied.The hunger and the annoyance she felt were her motivation to make herself a meal. It was almost dusk and she knew Gael would be home anytime soon. She rushed back to her room, tied up her hair, wore a more comfortable clothing and came back downstairs to the Kitchen without forgetting to put her headphones on.The next couple of minutes were filled with her focused on getting the perfect meal from chopping to stirring. The air was filled with the aroma of garlic, herbs, and something faintly sweet,perhaps the tomatoes she had roasted earlier. She was still focused on her cooking when she felt a hand slipped around her waist from behind. She let out a startled gasp, nearly dropping the wooden spoon in her hand.“Gael!” she exclaimed, her voice was a mix of surprise and relief.He chuckled, his lips brushed against her neck as
~Tense~Back at Andrès mansion, Joyce leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest, quietly watching Andrès. The late afternoon sun spilled through the blinds in streaks, striping across the room and his sharp profile. He was seated at his desk, hunched over a pile of documents, scribbling something down with furrowed brows. His eyes looked so calm but there was something detached in it. For days, she had noticed it. The silence. The odd pauses. The fake smiles. She could tell something was definitely off."You know," she started, her voice breaking the silence, "this is, like, the fourth time this week you skipped lunch. That’s a tragic behavior for someone who used to steal my fries."Andrès blinked up, caught off guard, then chuckled under his breath. "My bad. Guess I got caught up."Joyce stepped into the room, her heels making a soft thud on the marble floor. She circled the desk slowly, like a curious cat, her fingers brushing the edge."Caught up? Andrès
~Checkmate~Andrès stepped out of his car and slammed the door harder than he intended. The wind hit his face as he looked out over the estate grounds, his jaw clenched too. Gael’s face wouldn’t leave his mind.He walked briskly into the mansion, ignoring the greetings from two guards at the door and went straight to the bar. He didn’t even turn on the lights. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of scotch, uncorked it, and poured a full glass. His hands trembled slightly as he raised it to his lips."I should have buried him," Andrès muttered to himself. "I should have made sure."He tossed the drink back in one go, then slammed the empty glass down. The images in his head were too clear—Gael laughing, relaxed, shopping like his conscience was clean. Like he hadn’t stabbed Andrès in the back.The glass flew. It shattered against the wall, and silence followed.Footsteps."What happened in here?" Joyce appeared at the door, arms folded. "I heard the crash."Andrès didn't answer immediatel
~More Than One Player~The heavy gates of the estate closed behind Andres as his car eased into the driveway. The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, casting an orange hue across the grand mansion. He stepped out, his dark coat rustling with the evening breeze. There was a stiffness to his posture, the kind that came only when old memories refused to stay buried.Inside the house, silence was the first thing that greeted him. He loosened his tie and walked straight to the minibar, his mind replayed the face he had seen earlier that day. Gael.He poured himself a drink, the clink of the ice echoed in the room. He had been sure, absolutely sure it was Gael. The beard was gone, and he looked more filled out than before, but Andres would never forget that face. That smug, traitorous face. Gael had just exited a mall, shopping bags in hand, laughing as he slid into the passenger seat of a sleek black car. Living free. Living happily.The glass trembled in Andres' hand before he flung it
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