20/20 Black Widow Novels & Stories

She says, taking a chair and sitting in front of me, “it shocked me when she refused to call you to come home. She was always a suspicious old bat with me.” I look at her, surprised. “Mum said nothing.” “Of course, she wouldn’t. She’s Esther fucking Blackwood, mother of the goddamn year. The moment I showed up, she was suspicious. Fucking cunt.” She leans back in her seat. “Once the jig was up, I cut to the chase and told her we needed you to get the money. Still, the tough bitch wouldn’t call you.” She stands and circles me. She whispers in my ear, “And fucking tough she was.” I flinch away from her.

Zion frowned. "What have you done? I feel disgusted to even talk about it." Mr. Black rubbed his face before speaking, "You tried to rap a girl. I feel so ashamed. How can you forget with your IQ of 150+ that you have a wife? How can you be so low?" With that the colours on his face faded. That bitch made a complaint against him. She hasn't learnt her lesson yet. "Mom, give me Hannah's phone number." They heard him saying.

“At least tell me what kind of bad shit.” She stops and looks at me with an expression of worry and pity and pretty much nothing good. “Blacktop is into drugs, sex trafficking, blood fight and a whole lot of disgusting stuff. The fucking Alexei you are madly in love with maybe linked to your sister disappearance.”

a cold, haughty voice sneered from across the wide table. Elodia Blackwood sat with statuesque, runway-fresh posture, her immaculately sleek blonde bob perfectly framed by her high-end designer diamonds. Her calculating grey eyes had been fixed entirely on Zariel’s left hand since the luncheon began, her face a mask of classist disgust and bitter resentment.

"She acts the grieving widow, but she's been trying to trap me, just because I look like my brother. It's pathetic, really." Hearing the title "Commander," my mother-in-law threw herself to the floor with a fresh wail. "You have to see the truth, Commander! My poor son provided for her, and what did she give him? Just a girl! Now she wants to rob us blind! She's a leech on this family!" Catherine peeked at the commander, then buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with delicate sobs. "Sir, she tried to take my husband and hurt my unborn child... What kind of woman does that?"

**** The office felt colder than usual when I walked in. Rafe followed me inside, the laptop was already open. “She doesn’t know anything,” he said. “I checked it. There was no criminal ties." I poured myself a drink. The whiskey burned into my throat going down. “Show me.” He turned the screen toward me. Her face filled the display. She didn’t look like the daughter of killers. “She’s twenty-five,” Rafe said. “With no security and no protection. She was taken briefly by loan collectors the day her husband was buried.”

John announced proudly. “What? Black Widow?” Sam’s expression changed. He then quickly introduced her to Chase, “Sir, Black Widow is one of the top drug lords in the Golden Triangle. Her drug empire is in all corners of the world, and I heard that her brother is one of the biggest warlords, known as General Tuckman. "He even has an army of over 10,000 soldiers!” Sean stepped forward with a pleased smile on his face. “Well, it seems that you’re pretty well-informed. You even know who I am.”

She had that energy—carefree, like shopping was therapy. “I need to get him some clothes from the children’s section. Will you be okay here?” “Sure,” I replied casually. “We’ll be back in five.” She winked, though I almost laughed. Sarah and five minutes in a boutique? That was the real fantasy. I turned toward a nearby display, trailing my fingers along a rack of silky black dresses when I heard the voice that could sour milk. “Well, look what the wind blew in—if it isn’t the Black Widow herself. Or should I say, Slut Queen?”

"The security droids are idling. The loop is holding, but the core processor is starting to purge the memory. You have three minutes before the house wakes up." "I don't need three minutes," Dante replied. I heard the muffled thud of a flash-bang from the floor above, followed by the rhythmic, clinical pop-pop of his suppressed .45s. He wasn't auditing; he was clearing the ledger. I reached the server vault a chamber of pulsing crimson light that looked like the interior of a heart. And there, sitting in a high-backed chair of spun glass, was the discrepancy I had been hunting. The Widow. She didn't look like a ghost. She looked like a queen in exile. Her hair was a shock of silver, pulled b

she replied with a hint of sadistic amusement. "Ah, yes, the fear of spiders," the man acknowledged with a chilling smile that could haunt one's nightmares. "This particular breed is known as Latrodectus mactans, commonly referred to as the black widow," he explained, referring to the spiders within the case. With calculated precision, he delicately placed one upon Mr. Woods's bare chest, having previously removed his shirt.