Carmen Rosales Novels & Stories

“Isn't this woman an Agent officer who this afternoon was reported to have died in an accident while on duty? So… so this woman is Lorenzo's wife?” Carmen covered her mouth in disbelief as she looked at all the pictures of Lorenzo and his little family hanging on the wall. There Carmen can see Lorenzo's wedding photo and also a photo of Lorenzo holding a baby with Selena. Then Carmen also found a large photo with Enzo under the frame. With great admiration Carmen studied the photos one by one while thinking. Can I take the place of this woman to be both a wife and a mother?

I say and she smiles with a little bend of the knees. "Nice to meet you too, Madame." She says and I shake my head. "It's just Kera. Please." I tell her and she giggles nodding. Rosalia has beautiful silky brown hair with bright blue eyes and soft pink lips. She looks like a real life doll but in a good way. Her and her mother do look very alike. "Is Alessio awake yet? I mean Mr. Marino." Rosalia quickly adds. I raise my brows before nodding, keeping my eyes on her. "He's just laying down." I say before going back to pouring coffee in four cups.

I was tying my life to hers, to the Smith empire, to a world probably even more tangled than the Castillo underworld. Alaric leaned forward. “Rosa’s no ordinary woman, Allesio. She was born into this life. She knows how to fight, how to survive. But more than that, she’s got a heart that hasn’t hardened, and that makes her rare.” “I know,” I said, my voice firm. “That’s why she’s the only one I want.” He exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly. “Then do it.” I blinked. “That’s it?”

“I missed you so much, Cel. Please come back to me. I’ve been waiting for your return for two years.” Celine immediately flung Carmen’s hand away. She chided with a dark expression, “Open your eyes wide. I’m a young lady of the Fishers. My name is Celine Fisher. “If you’re looking for your daughter, it’s Caroline.” Celine grabbed Carmen’s arm, pulled her to the roadside, and gave her a push. Carmen fell to the ground.

“What job am I going to do today?” “Hm,” he looked at the tablet he was holding, scrolling through a few pages before looking at her. “Your schedule is packed Ms. Calixto.” “Am I really starting now? I don’t even know what she does! Like… her mannerisms or something. Don’t people know that about her?” Rojean panicked, looking around the room if there was something she could base Gizelle off from. “Sei liked her black clothes. Do you fancy wearing black clothes? Are you okay wearing black clothes?” Krister asked, looking at his tablet still before walking to the back room.

However, because Phillip was still a child and unruly, it was heard that Pablo and Juana needed to convince him to pay attention to them. Carmen was very quiet, modest, and attractive when she first arrived at Casa Rocha. She had a tiny, lovely face and a very slender figure. She was very pure and young. She didn't have a good education, but she was incredibly smart because she could read, write, and speak English. After high school, she completed a specialized degree in dressmaking and haircutting.

“With this body? Oh definitely not. You’re joining.” She says when she finally lets me pull out of the embrace. What is it with people holding onto me so long today? “I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask in confusion while she goes through her phone with some sort of urgency. “My bad. I’m Rosalina Torres. Santi’s wife.” “Oh. Um… nice party ma’am.” I say quickly. She smiles widely. “Thank you sweetheart. It was all my lovely husband.” I nod. “Flattered that you would want me at your pool party but I…”

“I’m the stationmaster. The city’s heart isn’t a seed. It’s a station. And you’re all passengers.” Mamá’s voice was a rasp, blood bubbling. “Javier’s niece sent Rosa. You’re lying.” Marisol’s eyes flicked to Rosa, then to me. “Tía Rosa? She’s been dead since ’92. Car accident. You never met her daughter because there is no daughter. Rosa’s the wager’s echo. A ghost in the machine, coded to keep you running.” Rosa staggered, machete halves clattering. “Mentira. I’ve got memories. I’ve got scars.”

Then the internet found out who she was. By noon someone had matched the butter yellow dress to a brand called Antonia Reyes Studio, found the designer's I*******m, found a tagged photograph captioned "my girl Carmen," and from there the trail was short. Carmen Lopez. Architecture student. Former girlfriend of Russell James, Merseyside FC forward.

The stillness of a woman whose body understood before her mind did that something enormous was arriving. "Elena," she said. Her voice very low. "Stay at the table," Elena said. She moved her chair closer. Her hand over Carmen's. "I need you to stay at the table and keep breathing and hear what I'm going to tell you." She held Carmen's eyes. "She is alive, Carmen. Rosa is alive. She has been alive since 1992. Victoria arranged it. She ran. She survived. She has been in New York for six years." Elena tightened her hand over Carmen's. "She is outside right now. She is standing on the path outside this house and she wants to come in and she has been waiting—"