Elena Gallagher Lopez Novels & Stories

Joshua paused and then he sucked in air. He raised his lower head to look at my face. I could see the guilt and pain that swam freely in his eyes. But then they watered surprising me. Was he about to cry? "Her name wasn't Layla Campbell. It was Elena, Elena Vasquez... A professional con artist who was wanted in several countries. And it..." He sniffled. "It turned out that... The lady you have been looking for for the past 3... 4 years now, the person who conned your grandfather and caused him to develop an early dementia, that person... That person was Elena."

I searched his eyes for an answer, but whatever it was lay deep in his heart, a place I couldn’t reach with just my eyes. “She was brought back to life,” he revealed. “Elena?” My heart hammered as her name escaped my mouth. “No, Rhoda. She was returned from the dead by the moon goddess. And now my brother won’t rest until he finds her killer,” he answered. It was more relieving to hear Rhoda was back to life than Elena. Not that it did any good for both of us, but at least, it wouldn’t be on my side to struggle from the beginning again. I sighed, shaking my head as thoughts evaded it. “So what’s going happen. Everything’s in place, you need to do something,”

People were already gathering—men and women in formalwear, masks covering their faces, champagne flutes in their hands, cruelty in their eyes. Elena moved like smoke through them, Lucien close by her side. Her gown—a sleek black silk creation with sharp lines and a plunging back—commanded attention. But it was the stillness in her that made her dangerous. The eyes that watched everything. The quiet strength that dared someone to test her. “I see familiar faces,” Lucien murmured under his breath. “Old money, old crimes. That man by the bar runs a cartel in Brazil. The woman in gold used to launder money through child hospitals. And the one near the stage... she sells intel to every side of ev

Even half the staff did the same, those that were usually too careless to observe titles and appearances. I leaned back on the armrest of the lounge chair, as I tapped on the polished wood, slowly replaying everything that transpired. None of it made sense to me, because Elon, no, Elena, was the name I had known her with. She's obviously the girl from the gala night. The one that wrote the killer dress, with soft curves, painted full lips, and a dangerous beauty. She never left Fort's side, and obviously doesn't have a twin. She's a woman, right?

She flipped to another page, and a photo of Dorothea Gatchalian came into view. "The email said: YOU'RE WATCHING THE WRONG WOMAN. CHECK THE FILES. SHE’S NOT SOFIA MORALES. SHE’S DOROTHEA GATCHALIAN." Eli leaned back. “No, that’s a stretch… Dorothea looked—" “Not if she got a new face. Look closely.”

To keep an eye on FUCKING ELENA. “What’s going on?” I whispered, feigning an air of innocence and returning the old Queens radiant smile when she glanced up to see me. “Didn’t you hear? The rebel Luna is gone! She eloped with that bloody rogue!” Nancy Gotham heehawed, wiggling her fingers like Elena was a disturbing fly she finally got rid of as the other elite wolves grinned around her. Ass-lickers, the lot of them. I forced the smile on my face to remain as a muscle twitches underneath my eyes.

Elara’s POV Three months after the depot handoff, the world had already forgotten the name Layla Greco. Not erased in some dramatic purge—simply sidelined. The family quietly moved her to a private estate in the hills above Taormina, Sicily. Official story: health retreat after a “minor neurological event.” Unofficial reality: the Greco elders had finally decided two centuries of grudge-holding was bad for business. She lived under soft house arrest—gardens, ocean view, personal physician, no devices with outbound capability. She could walk the grounds, read books, stare at the sea. She could not sell power she no longer possessed.

Lena's POV. “You are nothing but a clown I raised. You will die worthless and nobody will think you ever existed, not me, not even Dominic,” Elaine fumed at me with a knife in her hand. I pulled back breathing rapidly. She launched at me, screaming furiously, and I ran in any direction, my heart throbbed and my hands trembled. She was a few inches from thrusting the weapon at me when I tripped on my feet and fell to the ground.

The door was slightly open, and I recognized the voices of two of his top men, Tony and Carlos. "...saw it on the news again today," Tony was saying. "Elena Thompson, CEO of Phoenix Advisory, just bought another office building." My feet stopped moving. Elena. They were talking about Elena. "Yeah, that woman's everywhere now," Carlos replied. "Billboards, magazines, news shows. 'The Rising Star of Corporate America,' they call her." My heart started pounding. Billionaire? Elena was a billionaire? "She just sent another corrupt politician to prison last month," Tony continued. "Word is she's got half the city's dirty accountants scared. They call her 'The Truth Seeker' now."

Elena stepped back, swallowing her words. The woman on the bed reached up, touching Harry’s cheek. Her voice trembled convincingly. “Harry… I came back… just like I promised.” Harry went still. Elena closed her eyes. Naomi cried into her hands. And in the dim hospital room… Helen smiled. Elena Rivera had always been intuitive. It was why she was such a powerful curator. She read people the way others read books. And everything about this woman was wrong. The timing. The expression.