Fabiana Cantilo Novels & Stories

JILLIAN “Who is Carina?” The doctor asked leaning a bit closer. “She is my proof,” I answered confidently. The doctor took his laptop of the bag he has with him and typed things on it. “What is her surname?” I realized I don’t know that I can’t answer. My stepmom’s smirk made me grin. “Suero,” Angelo whispered. “Suero,” I said smirking back to my stepmom. The doctor continued doing whatever he is doing and turn the laptop to me. There are arrays of pictures of woman with the same name on the screen. It’s an online site with tons of users. I pointed at her picture, so the doctor clicked on it.

I quickly step out to see a woman whose voice sounded awfully familiar, arguing with Delilah, the only model acquaintance I got along with because she was just as bitchy and spoilt as me. “You think I am a loser with no friends. Okay, first of all you couldn’t be more wrong, I have a lot of friends, Elizabeth, Victoria, Danika…..umm...my mother, my grandmother who, fun fact, knitted this sweater for me.” The woman said proudly as she gave Delilah what she thought was a savage reply. Yep, that’s Emily. Delilah just shook her head as she tried to process Emily’s personality, “What’s going on?” I intervene before the fight gets out of hand.

Ingrid was a little hesitant to obey her alpha’s order since her health was at stake, and considering the fact that she just returned from a warfare and was supposed to eat healthy foods to help revitalize her system. “Yes, alpha.” Ingrid, who was in no position to question her alpha’s orders quietly replied, and started her way to the kitchen. “On second thoughts, I think I’ll like to have chilate de pollo (a fiery chicken soup) for lunch.” Isabel’s voice halted Ingrid in her tracks. “Still… Don’t forget my bottle of tequila.” She concluded through mind link before heading upstairs. She needed something hot and spicy as her emotions were all over the place. She needed something to keep her

"Thank you for saving her." "I am Gabby Florence, a cultivator, and I just came from 3 years of training in Mt. Alebasi. My clan were physicians; it's my duty to treat any patient, regardless of their nature and status." "I'm sorry for my impudent actions awhile ago. Please let me treat you to dinner as my apology," I humbly offered. "That will do! By the way, how can I address you?" was his nice response. As expected, people from Mt. Albasi were really humble and kind. He lived up to their reputation.

He walked through the doors, his assistant trailing behind him with a digital tablet in hand. Inside the private lounge, Santiago removed his sunglasses and sat in front of a large display screen, where both **Ximena Antonio** and **Miguel Ricardo’s** profiles were glowing. The assistant scrolled through them. “Antonio Fashion—growing fast. Risky moves, but smart ones. She’s bold,” she said. “And Ricardo Tech,” she continued, “still limping from recent attacks, but starting to regain market confidence. He’s sharper than he looks.” Santiago smiled slightly and murmured, “The marriage was a mistake.”

Automatically, Camila's images appeared, on many occasions, especially with her family and friends. She's a little wild, drinking with her friends in these photos. Huum, daughter of Fernando Cavalcanti, huh? — I know a Cavalcanti in Brazil. Ferdinand, actually. Do you know him by chance? he asked, pretending he didn't know the answer. - He is my father. - Serious? I did business with him a while ago. Uncle Gregorio introduced us. I didn't know he had such a beautiful daughter. He said, grinning mischievously.

I said in confusion. "I forget, you weren't aware of her family history; not many know her." "Camilo, I run one of the most important mafias in the world since I was 18; I have businesses in different countries, if I dedicated myself to be aware of the gossip and family drama of the people around me, I would not be in the place where I am now," I said staring at him. I continued looking through the papers I had on my desk. "Don Santelli has two children; Fabrizio is the oldest, and Fiorella is the youngest who is 8 years younger; she should be about to turn 18 now," said Camilo.

His voice was warm, inviting, as though the intensity of the previous moment had never touched him. “Elena,” she replied with a faint smile. “I’m Elena.” “Ah, Elena. Mrs. Kensington mentioned you,” Fabian said, stepping forward and extending his hand. His grip was firm but friendly as they exchanged a brief handshake. “She said you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And from what I see here, you’ve already made a difference. Sanitation and maintenance are critical to our operations—health inspections, safety audits, client perception—it all matters.”

Monty I chuckled provocatively. "I doubt that, anyway I'm not here for us to compete about who looks healthier than the other." Fabiola shifted her weight to her other leg. "How long have you been working for the Glacier Cartel?" She asked. "Hmm, if you want me to answer your question, then you should tell me what I'll get in return." Monty strolled back to his bed confidently. "What makes you think that my question isn't in your favour?" She tilted her head to the side and asked.

But the power dynamic had shifted completely. “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the same chairs we'd occupied during her previous attempt at intimidation. “We'll stand,” Killian replied. “Suit yourself.” Eleanor settled into her throne-like chair with theatrical grace. “Now, what's this about?” “Isabella Martinez.” Eleanor's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes. “I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name.” “Maria Santos, then. Professional actress from Barcelona.” “Still not ringing any bells.”