Bianca Lawson Age Novels & Stories

"You already sound like you're perfect for the job." The sound of someone's tongue clicking grabbed our attention. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." Hilda and I looked up to see Bianca coming down the steps in a luxurious red dress. It hugged her frame like a second skin. She was draped in designer jewelry and had her makeup and hair done. I saw immediately what this was for. It was a power play.

" Xander's face flushed instantly. He realized that the situation was not right. He wanted to go, but Bianca grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "Wilson, Xander and I are truly just best friends! You've misunderstood us!" Bianca was filled with panic as she avoided my gaze. Seeing the audience discussing among themselves about her, her face flushed red in embarrassment. "Tsk! She's still pretending! I knew that there was something going on with the two of them!" "Bianca previously built a boxing arena specifically for a man. I think that's him." "I didn't know that the heiress of the Newton family was such a loose woman, getting pregnant even before her wedding!"

Then her own younger voice followed, full of life. Oh... I’ll wear blue for my twenty-sixth birthday. “Is everything okay, ma’am?” Finn's voice pulled her back to reality. Her heart was beating painfully fast now, even when she had trained it not to feel that way anymore, especially for the people who had brought her the most pain. Seeing Charles again had reopened wounds she thought had healed long ago. Charles remained glued to his spot, with cameras still flashing, when Finn ran to his side. “Sir...” Finn muttered. “It means Mrs. Bianca is the same person who bought your company here in the States.”

I stared at Bianca, completely lost in thought. She appeared to be about four years old. She wore a pink jacket, her dark curls falling softly around her face, and tiny shiny leather shoes adorned her feet. I thought that if my child were still alive, they would have been the same age by now. I knew Sofia was talking because her lips were moving, but I couldn't hear a single thing she was saying. I kept my focus entirely on Bianca, who was being held in her arms.

the newscaster said again and had Bianca smiling at her. “Of course not, we should get started though” “Of course, I am even curious to know what exactly is happening. I mean you haven’t even been in America for up to two months and you have already been involved with so many scandals with the same man, what is your take on this, ma’am?” “Well” Bianca began to say, “I am quite familiar with the grounds because I have lived here almost all my life until I left for Luxembourg five years ago. I know when someone is trying to sabotage the work I have done with myself and the people around me”

Chris hadn’t been suspicious. Bianca was on tour. She was all over lifestyle blogs—taking pictures while touring Paris. I had scoffed when I came across one of the controversial captions those bloggers attached to her pictures they posted, “Billionaire tycoon daughter, and United state top make up artist—Bianca Lane, touring the Street of Paris in style. Her reasons? -Broken hearts heal faster in Paris. Does this means her hottie biker billionaire ‘fiancé’ like she once called it had broken up with her?’

she rolls her eyes. “That’s exactly the way I feel about my mother’s death as well, so I’ve never asked my father about who the killers were, or what went down that day,” I let her know. Then, we laugh saying, “I guess we’ll never know.” “How do you know all these details anyway, you’ve got a huge age gap…” I ask her before biting into my burger. “I was eight years old when Harlow told me all these things,” Bianca says slurping on the soup. Isn’t that traumatic for the age of eight? Why would he tell her things like that? I question in my head.

I would always catch her hastily finishing her work, to go and be around her, even if it was just to catch a glimpse of her. Who could blame her though? Bianca, whom was a good nine years older, was so breath taking with a face of that of a goddess, her golden ginger red hair trinkling down her waist in waves. I failed to believe that this woman was Italian. Her face was also youthful and fair, with no blemishes whatsoever. Unlike me, whose face was tainted with freckles and looked so far in comparison to her.

Arianna “Sit still, tesoro. You keep wrinkling the dress.” I tried, really. But the satin stuck to my thighs, and my nerves made it impossible to stay still. I shifted again on the stool as my mother, Lucia, fussed with the bodice, muttering about my posture and how expensive the gown was. My sister, Bianca, lounged on the couch nearby, already sipping something fizzy out of a crystal flute. Her hair was pinned perfectly, her lips a deep red. Married at eighteen, bitter at twenty-one, and already looking like she couldn't take one moment of it anymore.

Bianca calls from her room. " No, I'm fine!" I call out to her. I pull out my phone, going to the internet as I typed in Gianna Haines on the G****e search. A web page comes up, showing photos and information concerning Gianna Haines. I went through the information, and truly, she died by jumping into a lake. I click one of her images and I'm awed at her picture. She's young. She looks to be 21 years old and she's a redhead, with freckles dusting her nose. She has fair skin, long red hair, green eyes, and she's beautiful.