Helena Rojo Age Novels & Stories

The door opened before we reached it. Helena Varro was not what I'd built in my mind from the partial photograph and Holt's description. She was in her mid fifties. Composed. Professionally dressed in the way of someone who cared about precision rather than appearance. Her hair was short and gray and she wore no jewelry. She looked at me the way someone looks at a person they've studied extensively and are now verifying against their research. "You're taller than the surveillance footage suggested," she said. "You've had surveillance on me," I said.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." Only then did Helena notice the young woman standing beside him. She looked to be around 25. Her arm was linked through his, and she leaned against him with her entire body. Helena frowned before she could stop herself. Oscar wasn't the kind of man who fooled around. Or was he?

"That doesn't suit you at all. You should just go back and put on your warrior suit. Why pretend to be girly now, huh?" I wince and shift nervously. Helena is the pack's future Gamma and is only mean to me. I have no idea why she hates me. There's no way someone like her could be jealous of someone like me. Helena is gorgeous, with brilliantly long, wavy strawberry-blonde hair, bright blue-green eyes, and long creamy legs. She's wearing a bold sleeveless white-and-gold dress that leaves little to the imagination, and her makeup is on point, making her beautiful features pop even more.

Helena said, and suddenly her appearance began to change. Her hair grew longer and darker. Her face shifted. Her eyes turned a different color. Within moments, she looked like a completely different person. "Glamour magic," Rosemary breathed. "You've been hiding your real identity." Jennifer smiled cruelly. "For two years, I've been working at the Council headquarters as 'Helena.' Building trust. Gaining access to powerful magic. Learning everything I needed to destroy you." "But why?" Rosemary asked. "I investigated your complaint three years ago. The Council cleared me of all charges. I did nothing wrong."

His tone was sharp, but the hunger in his eyes betrayed him. Helena had a remarkable body for a woman of 48. Thanks to botox, bbl and breast augmentation surgery. Years of carefully maintaining her physique had sculpted her into a woman who drew stares and silenced rooms. She’d married Harold Valdez, Marco’s father, at nineteen, a decision that cemented her place in the Valdez legacy. By twenty, a year later, she’d given birth to Marco, trading her youth for a life of power and privilege. Helena didn’t answer immediately. She stretched lazily, the curve of her body on full display, her hand sliding provocatively down her thigh. “Don’t act surprised darling ” she purred, her voice a siren’s c

she asked me with her wide eyes full of expectation. I clenched my teeth until they gritted and sat in my chair across from her. "Kate Johnson in my sophomore year of college," I finally answered. “So, you were...” "Almost twenty years," I said looking in amazement as her pupils dilated and her mouth parted, "Are you okay, Helena?" “How old was the girl?” she asked in turn. Oh no. I shook my head before speaking. “Forget it.” “Was she younger than you?” She asked looking at me thoughtfully, "she was older! Shit... senior year?”

" asked a female voice, interrupting her trail of thought. Helena turned to look up and her mouth slightly opened with admiration of the woman standing next to her.The woman had her hair tied up in a ponytail, the face of a supermodel and amazing curves that were to die for. "Uhm sure go ahead", she gestured with her hand. Helena couldn't help but stare at her as she elegantly took a seat and she smiled when the woman noticed her looking at her. Was she star struck? "Hi, i'm Roselyn. I live on the sixth floor", she introduced herself, offering a handshake. "I'm Helena, from second", she responded, accepting Roselyn's hand. "Did you just arrive here coz I haven't seen you around?" Roselyn ask

Helena closed her eyes for a moment, enduring a sudden sharp pain in her chest. Noticing the change on her mother's face, Selena panicked instantly. "What is wrong, Mom? Is your chest hurting again?" Helena opened her eyes slowly. Her face turned increasingly pale, yet her eyes fixed on Selena with an intense, urgent stare. "Selena... there is still one more thing you must know about your origins and why I kept this hidden from the rest of the family," Helena whispered, her breath growing shorter and shorter.

"It's true, Serena. Helena is... she's the one who saved me from the orphanage." "Orphanage?" I repeated stupidly. Nothing was making sense. "But your parents..." "Are not my real parents," Elena said, tears now flowing freely down her face. "I'm sorry I never told you. I was... I was ashamed." Helena moved further into the room, her elegant dress rustling softly. "It was during one of my world tours. It was twenty years ago. I visited an orphanage in San Francisco as part of a charity event. I was just going through the motions, really. Shaking hands with the director. Taking photographs for the press."

Mario shouted and the sounds of music filled the whole house. Before Adelard could say anything, someone immediately caught him and dragged him along. It was a young woman in a long dress and with flowers in her hair. "Monsieur, look, these flowers were made by me," she said, holding his hand. "Very beautiful." "Dance, Monsieur. There is no need to be shy." "This is Helena. She is only eighteen years old. Don't be surprised, but she's in love with you," Mario whispered in his ear.