Flawless Victory Novels & Stories

The Winter Paris Competition is over and I can finally relax. With Tanya Pennington named the winner, I can finish out the remainder of my Model Perfect contract and be away from the spotlight. All eyes are on Tanya Pennington and her girlfriend, Lucia Perez. Tanya is the first lesbian to become a model girl winner for Model Perfect. All social media platforms are buzzing with the news. As for me, I am glad it's all turning out the way it needs to.

“She seemed so lost. I never thought she would betray you like this.” Flawless - how smoothly it ran. Every piece clicked without a single stumble. Not one misstep showed up. Smoothness ruled each moment. Nothing broke rhythm. People at the top would gobble that story right up. Nothing thrilled them like watching someone crash, then seeing another step in to help. With everyone turning away, Sam would find herself totally alone. Saying her name would bring silence. Out of all that mess, I’d appear calm - someone steady, the person Ethan could count on when things fell apart.

But enough to end it. Enough to let us move forward. Free. Unburdened. Victorious. His final play was surrender. Ours is triumph. We won.

Now* “Terry was the perfect storm, attractive, damaged, kind, mysterious, ruthless, strong, yet vulnerable. He was everything I should have stayed away from, but the second that I met him I was hooked, it was like he was a drug and I was addicted. The truth is, he had given his heart away to someone a long time before he met me, and he had never gotten it back.” “Mom, I don’t understand… you aren’t making much sense.”

Forever. And life continues. Beautiful. Peaceful. Full. Without him. That's enough. That's everything. That's victory. Finally. Completely. Forever.

Evelyn let the quiet of the study press around her like a cloak, but inside that stillness her mind refused to be still. The victory—Abbas falling into the trap—was a clean, bright thing in the center of a very dark room. It felt almost unreal, like a photograph of a moment rather than the moment itself. She knew the cost of celebrations; she knew how quickly triumph could sour into danger. So she did not celebrate. She catalogued.

The shake was gone and she had fixed the mistake. A slow and natural smile spread across her face, the first smile of the day. She felt a sense of joy and understanding and control, which was fully her own. She knew with complete certainty that Marcus Vance never would have found that flaw. He did not care at all for perfection. He would have settled for 'good enough.' She hadn't.

“Don’t waste this.” Her chest stilled against mine. The largest screen flickered one final time. Ramos’s face twisted in fury, his perfect composure shattered, before collapsing into static. His empire burned with him. But none of it mattered. Not Ramos. Not the victory. Not the silence that followed. All I knew was that the spark who had carried us here, who had laughed and cursed and carried more weight than anyone her size should have, was gone in my arms. And the world would never be the same. Not now, not ever.

Their trust in my promise soothed some of the injury to my pride. They had won fairly. Not because the poison had weakened me. Not because either man had become stronger than the Goddess of War. I had thrown both of them down and reached within sight of freedom. They won because Asterion knew which opening I would recognize, and Faolan knew pride would compel me to take it. Individually, I could defeat them. Together, they had become the one opponent I could not predict quickly enough. That deserved recognition. I approached Faolan first. "A victory deserves a reward."

The tenth time my parents flew more than six thousand miles to meet their future son-in-law, Nathaniel Prescott refused to show up. He ignored my calls and never replied to any messages. After God knew how many cups of coffee, I received an update from my best friend, Isla Monroe. Eight photos of snowy scenery surrounded a picture of two intertwined hands. The caption read: “Check-in number ten. He's perfect in every way.” My fingers curled into tight fists. It took twenty-seven calls before Nathaniel finally answered. “Where are you?” Howling wind rushed through the phone, followed by his distracted voice. “Out. What’s up?” “What’s up? This is the tenth time! My parents flew all