Demencia Villainous Novels & Stories

I ask. "I don't know exactly. But Sis, she called me this morning. She was manic. She was saying something but she's not making complete sense. She kept saying that if she couldn't save the family's reputation, she'd at least save you from 'him.'" Vivienne gestures at Dante. "She's convinced that Dante is the real villain here, that everything would be fine if you just left him." "That's delusional," Dante says flatly. "I know. But Emma's not thinking clearly. She's broke, disgraced, facing potential criminal charges, and she's decided that all of it is Dante's fault." Vivienne pulls out her phone, playing a voicemail. "Listen."

"I want to go back to memory therapy." Dianne gasped, shocked. Truly, this was one of the things she feared the most. If Nicilas' memory came back, then that man's trust in her would be gone. Nicolas would remember the way he used to, the man would go back to being an arrogant CEO and an annoying boss. Of course, he would be even more violent because Dianne had been acting as his fiancée all this time.

A villain with a glass of apple juice in his hands—instead of a throat-grating shot of scotch, or a bowl of fresh human blood. A villain, especially one with a hefty goal should have black as his ensemble. Not multicolored boxer shorts and flip flops. He was supposed to be in his chambers, peering at the mind maps he'd drafted. Not basking in the mild Tuscan sun. A villain that likened himself to the devil should have his lips stretched in a grim line as he went through his loan over and over and over again. He definitely shouldn't be grinding lips with a scantily clad lady.

"You have thirty seconds to decide." "We'll never stop looking for you," I said. "Yes, you will. Because you're smart enough to know you can't win." She smiled, and it was like looking at a stranger. "Twenty seconds." Damien's hand found mine. I looked at him, saw the same calculation in his eyes. We'd survived a board coup, a murder investigation, corporate espionage. But this? Our best friend, the person we'd trusted with everything, being the villain the whole time?

There was no doubt that Robert had completely lost his mind. "I am going to kill him, when I get my hands on him," Damien said in a low dangerous voice. "No one is killing anyone, Damien, let us just find her first, her mind his very fragile," I said. My mother, Belladonna Montenegro suffered from a serious bout of dementia and alzheimer's syndrome. So she could be easily manipulated and taken advantage of. That was what Robert was doing to my mother and I was never going to forgive him for that. I was absent minded at work and it helped me tune out Natalia's constant nagging about how sloppy my work was. I was not in the mood for her bullshit for now. My frail helpless mother was missing.

His face was filled with fear. "If you're watching this one day..." He paused. "If Lena is old enough to see this..." My heart shattered. "Then I'm dead." I covered my mouth. Damien reached for me. Antonio continued. "There's something inside your memory that they want." He looked at the camera. "Don't trust the Black Circle." A pause. "And don't trust Marcello." The recording suddenly distorted. Then Antonio said something that made Damien freeze. "Most importantly..." His eyes shifted toward the young Damien standing in the corner.

She dug the novel out from beneath a stack of correspondence she'd been using to bury it, dust gathering faintly along its spine, and sat with it open in her lap for the first time in nearly two weeks. *The Villainess's Ruin.* She'd read it once, in her old life, curled up with tea gone cold beside her, treating it as nothing more than pleasant escapism before bed. She read it now with an entirely different kind of attention, searching each page for anything she might have skimmed past the first time, anything that might connect, however loosely, to a name like Renshaw.

Victor smiled slightly, thinking he'd won. "However," Damien continued, "what my father fails to mention is why I did those things. My wife, Isabella, came forward voluntarily with the truth about her identity and her plans. She chose honesty over revenge. And in investigating her claims, I discovered extensive evidence of corporate malfeasance, securities fraud, and racketeering—all committed by Victor Blackwell over the past twenty years." The room erupted. Board members talking over each other, Victor's face going red, Marcus standing up to object.

Aunt Pamela spoke up sharply. "Pamela, you have no right to decide her future without her consent," Granny said firmly. "Oh, please." Aunt Pamela rolled her eyes. "You should be thanking my husband for finding such a rich husband for her… otherwise…" Her eyes traveled over me with pure disdain like I was something filthy. "You’re lucky he agreed to marry you despite you being a bastard." "Pamela," Granny warned in a cold voice, but Aunt Pamela didn’t look intimidated at all. "I will not marry him," I said firmly.

They are serious, more serious than I saw from them back then. "Dimian. We are not saints, you were just really trying to become a devil. That power isn't yours and because you really like stealing everything that will satisfy your selfishness, you even used that forbidden power." Mr. Garmon said to him, he was just as calm as Alpha Zidian. "You pushed me, especially you who did that. How come you are not aware of the consequences?" Alpha Dimian asked Mr. Garmon which made me puzzled. They are all serious and here I am wondering about their existence.