All Chapters of Vengeance of the Fallen Heir: From Cell to CEO: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

~~Ethan Wilder~~ I kissed her desperately. Like if I stopped, she would disappear. She made a sound against my mouth, a small surprised noise, and then her hands were in my hair and she was kissing me back just as hard. I walked her backward until her back hit the wall. She gasped and I used the chance to push my tongue into her mouth. "Ethan," she breathed. "What are you doing?" "Changing your mind," I said against her throat. She laughed, but it turned into a moan when I bit down gently on that spot behind her ear. "That's not fair." "Life isn't fair, sugar." My hands found the hem of her shirt and pulled it up. She raised her arms and let me take it off. Her skin was warm under my fingers. I unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. She looked at me, her eyes dark. "You're playing dirty." "You have no idea." I lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I carried her to the couch. We fell onto it together,. She pulled at my shirt until I sat up just long eno

~~ETHAN WILDER~~I spent the rest of the day trying not to think about the date. I kept trying not to plan it out in my head like some lovesick teenager...and I failed completely.I wanted everything to be perfect. Not fancy perfect or show-off perfect. Just... her perfect.So I called in a favor with Mario, an old friend from years ago who ran a small Italian place in the city. "Six o'clock," Mario said on the phone. "I close the place for you. Just you and the girl.""You don't have to do that, Mario.""Ethan. You ask for table, I give you table. You ask for private, I give you private. You bring pretty girl, I make sure she knows you're a good man."I didn't know how to respond to that. So I just said thank you and hung up.At five, I knocked on the bedroom door. The one she'd claimed as hers, even though we both knew it was just for show."Almost ready?" I called through the door."Almost!"I leaned against the wall and waited. I heard her moving around inside. A drawer opening a

~ALINA JOHNSON~The first time I went to my father's apartment was the morning sftet the funeral. Maya had offered to come but I had declined, waiting to grieve and reminisce alone. I knew she was my best friend but there were things and moments one just had to face alone.I had a spare key I used to let myself in—I was glad I kept it even though I have only used twice and in a very long time. The house smelled of every him. Of every parts of him. In his room, his soap, deodorant spray and perfume still clung to the stale air. The windows were closed.In the kitchen, I had smiled faintly at the sight of it was, were unused ingredients for making Blinis. There had been an unfinished bottle of his favourite whiskey. I had gotten a glass and poured myself some, sitting on the only wooden stool as my fathers ghost worked in the kitchen with little me tagging along, as inquisitive as ever. Asking questions that made sense and didn't laughing at my father's klkokes and deliberately measurin

~ALINA JOHNSON~~I opened the first folder on the flash drive, and a long list of files populated the screen. Each one was a nail in the Vance family's coffin. My father hadn't just been a witness, he had been a meticulous architect of their downfall.The deeper we scrolled, the more the air in the room seemed to chill. These weren't just business mistakes, these were crimes. Crimes that if exposed to the public would cause a major downfall. The last document was a PDF my father had created just three days before the accident. It was a letter addressed to the Attorney General, but it had never been sent.To whom it may concern, My name is Fran Johnson and for five years, I have been the silent record-keeper for the Vance. I knew that by staying, I was complicit, but I needed enough to ensure they could never rise again. They have threatened my daughter, Alina. If this file is being read, it means they have followed through on their threats to me. Please, use this to protect her. She

~~ MAYA CAROLINE~~The funeral was held two days after, on a Sunday afternoon. Pete was a known man and the turnout reflected it. His four children; David and his three siblings, Marcus, Edward and Clement stood in a somber line. Pete never had a daughter and even as grandchildren, it is just me.I stood behind them, a black veil obscuring my eyes from the people that were present. I watched my uncles dab at their eyes, but I couldn't help but notice the way their eyes smiled as they glanced they cast toward the casket. The priest’s voice soon rose in a short prayer."Dust to dust," he murmured, "We entrust our brother, Pete, to the mercy of the Creator, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection."As the casket began its slow descent into the earth, I watched my uncles. They stood stiffly, their shoulders hunched in a display of grief that didn't quite reach their posture. The corny smiles I had seen earlier were now tucked behind pressed handkerchiefs.The moment the fi