Bruce X Vance Novels & Stories

The morning light was pale and cold. Vance stood outside his father's door. He had not slept well. His jaw was tight, hands were fists at his sides. He took a deep breath to control his rage and pain. He knocked once on the door. A paused... Then he heard his father's voice. "Come in." William's voice was hoarse. Tired. Vance opened the door. William was sitting in the armchair by the window. He wore a casual shirt that hide his usual sharpness as the director of Astera empire. His hair was disheveled.

And the most cataclysmic thing was, I was not afraid of having witness Madeline's murder. Yes it left an impact on me, I still shivered whenever her dead lifeless eyes drifted in my vision but.. I was more scared of Marienne. As soon as the the police enquiry session had come to an end, I ran straight to my flat, brought out my laptop and tried to find as much as information I could manage about them. And what I found about them wasn't shocking but still, it chilled me to the core. Marienne Carlisle Victor. A French-American businessman, who is best known for his ruthless statistics and strategies in the corporate world. Devilishly handsome looking but taken from at the age of 19. Well known

5 million, and Vinca again countered with 11 million, but to her surprise, Shanice raised the bid to 15 million. Frost had given Vinca a credit card that she rarely used. She had hoped to buy the vase using that card, but she felt that going beyond 12 million was in excess, so she opted out of the bid. Shanice had a victorious smile on her face but Frost was angry." Do you really want the vase?" he whispered into Vinca's ear. Vinca turned to him with huge eyes that were almost spilling with tears. She had set her heart on the vase and now it was gone. Frost didn't wait for her answer and raised his card for the first time since the auction began.

From Christian down to this pervert, and now he kept his eyes on me for at least a minute before looking away and again like I was some candy he didn't want anyone taking away. Not too long Anthony, Cynthia's husband formally introduced us. "Melio, come meet Shaun Vance, the owner of Vance Conglomerate and your boss while you're interning." I wished at that moment I was a chameleon as to blend with any furniture present. From the way he smiled, I just knew I wouldn't last long working with him. Like his thee Shaun Vance, the one, who bought the hospital my brother works with? Seattle knows this man and they know him well, have an idea you can't fund, bring it to him and he will liquidate it

You cannot win against me. Vance turned pale, his fingers trembling over his phone. "You bought my stadium...?"

“The guy I smoked in the final heat. He doesn’t lose. Ever.” Vance walked forward slow, boots crunching gravel. His crew fanned out behind him. “You two think you can roll into my race, take my money, and ride off like nothing?” Vance’s voice carried easy, almost amused. “No one beats me.” I stepped in front of Declan half a pace. “Looks like someone just did.” Vance smiled, not friendly. “That’s why I’m here. I want your heads. Both of them.” The guy with the shotgun racked it loud enough to echo off the trees.

"The pregnancy, the paralysis, the affair... it’s all here. It’s unbelievable." "It's a goldmine," Julian rasped over the secure line, the sound of wind and traffic in the background suggesting he was currently standing outside a secure records office. "But I’m not done digging. The Vance family history is rotten to the absolute core. Lydia is just the branch; the root of this poison goes much deeper, back to the people who raised her." He paused, a heavy, calculated silence stretching over the line before he delivered the final, chilling question. "I’ve managed to bypass the secondary firewall on the old Vance family trusts," Julian said, his voice dropping into a quiet, intense register. "

Vance was one of Samson's own adopted sons who had opened his own mechanic business in his adult life and was doing well for himself. "He isn't here, it's his day off. I'm just trying to add blue lights to my wheel wells, and I'm having a hard time running it through the hollow plastic panels on the sides of the truck to the back of the rear wheel well." Gabriel huffed and dejectedly pulled himself out from under the truck and stood.

The chamber held its breath. Then footsteps echoed from the far side of the ruins. Not our people. Not the Chairman's guards. A single set of boots moving steadily through a passage none of us had noticed before, each step deliberate and unhurried, growing louder until a figure emerged from the shadows at the edge of the torchlight. Vance. He walked into the chamber alone, no weapons visible, no guards behind him, his face carrying an expression I had never seen on him before. Not anger. Not arrogance. Something closer to exhaustion, the kind that comes from carrying something too long and finally deciding to set it down.

“My mate has vivid memories of your combat record, Maestro. She often spoke of the border skirmish that propelled your shadow unit to glory.” Vance found himself fully submerged in his violent past as those words reached him. That particular blood-bath on the southern frontier held an unparalleled significance in his life. Without surviving those silver blades, he realized he wouldn’t be the executioner he had become. “Who was he, Maestro?” I inquire, my curiosity piqued despite the heavy silence of the armory. “Another rogue executioner from the Moon Clan?” Vance snapped back to the harsh present, nodding thoughtfully as he reached for his glass of Jamaican Blue Mountain moonshine. “We once