Novel & Cerita Elena Gallagher Lopez

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.

“I chose this.” “Really? Are you sure you’re not just trying to convince yourself?” Gabriel sighed as if he pitied her. “It’s been two years since Mr. Lopez acknowledged his real daughter, and you left Tagaytay. From what I’ve heard, you’re someone with a lot of pride.” “What are you really trying to say?” Eloise asked bluntly, clearly annoyed now. Gabriel smirked. “No need to rush, Eloise. You don’t strike me as someone who lacks patience.”

She reached for her hand mirror and called for Margarette. “How are you? Did you get the dusts?” “Margarette, we need to talk. I want the truth. I want the whole story of Lenriad. Also, I have to tell you another thing.” Ellaine opened the leaf and stared at the beautiful face of a sleeping angel with golden hair.

I put Zacharias down in his crib next to Stefano in the corner making my way back to the table "First of all, I am the Chief Investigator at WSP, Detective Clarke," he began pulling a badge from his pocket and showing me the Washington patrol star logo. "Is your name Ella Jones?" "Ella Loren actually," I replied sitting down at the table. "Is Leonardo Loren your legal husband?" he asked. "Yes," Not strictly true. We never officially married in the human way. "Is your maiden name Jones?" "Yes." "Do you have any evidence of your marriage?" He asked.

I stood in the garden, watching my mother water flowers in the sun. It was the most peaceful I had seen her in twenty years. “What are you thinking about?” Dante asked, walking up to me. “Thinking if it was all worth it,” I said. “Any regrets?” “No.” I shook my head. “Just… thinking.” Dante handed me an envelope. “This is what you asked for.” I opened it. Inside was a complete set of new documents. A new name, a new passport, a new social security number. “Elara De Luca is dead,” Dante said. “You are now Elena Rodriguez, an artist from Spain.”

Just another piece in the room. Galli nodded to one of his suited men. “Bring us something proper.” The man bowed slightly and disappeared. Galli turned back to us, his smile sharpening. “She’s different from the last one. What was her name again? Isadora? The singer from Naples. Legs that didn’t quit, if I recall.” Elian said nothing. His face remained unreadable, calm in the way a loaded gun is calm. My throat went dry. Isadora. I’d written about her a month ago. A missing persons piece, barely two hundred words. She’d vanished without a trace. A small club singer with a bright future, last seen at a gala on the Amalfi coast.

she kissed my temples "Let me go into the kitchen and prepare your favorite dish" "What about the maids? Allow them to prepare it" "No, you are coming to visit me in a long while so allow me to prepare it for you. Moreover, they don't know how you like it" I won't lie. My grandmother's gazpacho was the best and I must admit that I have missed it a lot. I brought out my phone and dialed Eulalia's number, I was missing her and I needed to hear her voice. She picked up on the second ring