Christian Marie Serratos Novels & Stories

Professor Benítez met me near the entrance and handed me a visitor helmet before pointing toward a woman standing beside a folding table covered with plans. "Marina Serrano," he said. "She is leading the development team." Marina looked up before we reached her. She was probably in her early forties, dressed in black trousers, work boots and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. There was nothing theatrical about her. She shook my hand, asked whether I had brought the latest daylight studies, and then moved directly into work. "Good. Come with me." That was the entire welcome. I followed her across the site while Professor Benítez stayed behind.

“That’s enough weightlifting for today. Do some meditation instead.” The chatter dies completely, replaced by a tense silence. Serena's sharp gaze lands on Mara. “And you,” she says coolly, “are fired.” Mara’s face twists in outrage. “Fired? For what? Telling the truth?” Serena smirks, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “No. For failing in your duties as a coach. You broke the law of confidentiality by humiliating one of the participants. That’s not leadership—it’s incompetence.” A faint smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, breaking through my embarrassment. For the first time, someone stood up for me—even if it’s Serena, who doesn’t particularly like me.

she murmured, her brows furrowed. Slade had already run a thorough background check on Gigi. Ginger Serrano, the eldest daughter of the prominent Serrano family. Headstrong, fiercely independent, and high-spirited, she aspired to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a successful politician. A goal she pursued with relentless determination.

Killian took the phone, knowing very well what was it about. "Mattias Serrano, quien lucha por la presidencia más poderosa del país esquivó la muerte hoy. El empresario convertido en político estaba dando su discurso electoral en un mitin cuando ocurrió el incidente. Afortunadamente, no sucedió nada extraño ya que sus guardias lo protegieron antes de que la bala pudiera alcanzarlo. Mttias Serrano es uno de la masa después de político que es........."

I hope he didn’t get shot or something. “Yes and he is watching you through the mirror.” He says, making me look at the mirror on the wall in front of me. “Well, I don’t care about Lucas. I just asked because I am a polite person.” I say, making him chuckle. “Miss Warner, you’ve been subjected to a very confidential part of the CIA’s mission to take down drug rings around the country. You have to sign a number of documents, promising complete silence on this matter.” he says as he keeps a few documents in front of me.

A petite figure roamed up and down the corridors of the hotel. Just as Phelan left the room, the man in the bed opened his eyes. His eyes were sharp like a hawk. The hidden bodyguard who was then Don Carlton looked at him, wondering whether he should go after her or not, as he cast his eyes on the man in bed. Don Carlton thought for a moment and went forward and knocked on the opened door of the presidential suite. “Come in,” the man in bed said. His voice was as cold as ice. Don man walked into the room and saluted respectfully, “Young Master.”

She arrived in New York yesterday, today was the day she has been told she'd resume her work position. "Thank you," Maria said as she sat while he adjusted his collar, then his cuffs. "I am Mr Sean Powell, a senior executive of A.C.E and I overtook the job of getting to know the rookies we recruited this year," he adjusted his glasses and took a glimpse at the screen of his computer. "It says here that you majored in HRM and graduated with a CGPA of 3.65," looking at her now. Maria repositioned herself before giving a response. "Yes, that's right, sir."

The name detonates in the room. “Victor Salazar.” For several seconds no one speaks. The silence stretches across the boardroom like a crack in glass—fragile, sharp, ready to shatter. Across the table, Marcus Dela Torre exhales slowly. “Well,” he murmurs. “That explains a lot.” Elaine Porter shakes her head. “That’s impossible.” But uncertainty creeps into her voice, softening the denial. Beside me, Adrian Reyes doesn’t move. His gaze remains locked on Leonardo Castillo.

"Sebastian (head of production). He runs the farms, ensures both top notch quality and quantity and keeps the drugs running like water. Emiliano (head of export). Keeps the stream flowing across the borders to where they gotta be, controls the logistics, makes sure no questions are asked at the borders and that all product gets from A to B. Alvaro (head accountant), monitors all money coming in and out the business. He's in charge of spotting any unexpected changes in profit and sales and tracks anything suspicious to the source. No one in the business could steal even a dollar from me without this man knowing. And finally, Sergio (head of security). Keeps the computer technicians and hacker

"By ensuring that American nonprofits aren't used as covers for destabilizing activities." Sophia stood up slowly. "Who are you working for, David?" "People who believe that American organizations should serve American interests, not foreign agendas." "Maria Santos was arrested because of information you provided." "Maria Santos was arrested because she was using American money to fund radical activities that threaten regional stability." "She was documenting illegal evictions and helping families find housing." "She was coordinating with other radical organizations to destabilize pro American governments." The conversation was surreal David speaking as if his betrayal was patriotic, as if t