Romans & histoires Jayy Von Monroe Now

She didn't care about office rules, she wanted him after a long time of staying away "It doesn't matter...it's you I want and no one else...you make me feel like a woman Jayy"Monica mumbled with utter desperation as she crossed her legs to his sides. By now Justin had managed to unzip her dress and slipped his hands in and started caressing her.

“Something worse. Something he built before he died. A failsafe to override all others. It’s waking up now because you’re here. Because I activated the beacon.” Kai cursed. “So we walked into a trap?” “No,” the boy said again. “You walked into a choice.” The console blinked. A file opened—Monroe’s final archive. Everyone crowded around as it began to play. [BEGIN VIDEO FEED] Monroe appeared—older than any version they’d seen. Hollow eyes. Paler. A man nearing death. Yet his voice carried the same unsettling calm. “If you’re seeing this, I’m already dead. And if it’s Damien watching—then congratulations. You’ve outlived your purpose.”

While I'd been at home having makeup sex with Zane, Judy Byron had been dying. "Miss Monroe." A detective had appeared—tall, Black, probably in his forties, with tired eyes that suggested he'd seen too much. "I'm Detective Harrison. Thank you for coming in. If you'll follow me?" Richard stood immediately. "Richard Davis, Miss Monroe's attorney. She's prepared to answer your questions." Detective Harrison's eyebrows raised slightly, but he nodded. "Right this way." We followed him through a maze of corridors to a small room with a table and four chairs.

“This is Jace Monroe’s card?!” I winced. “Keep your voice down! People are watching us.” “Jace Monroe?!” She whispered. “The Jace? Like, hot, untouchable, and music industry menace Jace?!” “You’re being dramatic,” I told her, trying to stay calm. More people were looking now. “Molly,” I hissed at her, “sit down before I disown you as my friend.” She dropped into her seat and leaned so close to me that our heads almost knocked together. “How did you get this?"

Things were getting too creepy around here. Tom was sitting in his pod on the way home from work when his cuff rang. He tapped a button and an image of Brooke's face appeared above it. "I'm at a new friend's house right now. They have invited us over for dinner." Tom's brow furrowed. "A new friend?" "I think you'd really like them. His name is James Monroe and he has a twelve-year-old daughter." "James Monroe? Like the guy that works at the campaign office? Why would we have dinner with him?"

So did the headlines. By that evening, the Monroe Foundation had disabled all public comment sections on their website. Gregory Halser’s legal team released a statement denying everything—and then immediately postponed two upcoming development launches. Valerie Monroe vanished from public view. And Cassidy? She posted a cryptic, darkly filtered photo of a chessboard tipped over, with the caption: “Only fools think victory is clean.” No one replied. But behind closed doors, Cassidy Monroe was not calm. She stood in her bedroom surrounded by broken glass and shattered frames.

Damien was walking into a trap, and I had no way of warning him. Monroe's cold gaze shifted from the phone to me and Ava, his expression devoid of any remorse or empathy. With a chilling calmness, he began to speak, his words dripping with a sense of detachment and indifference. "I want to make one thing clear," Monroe said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "I don't care about Renaissance. I don't care about you, Isabella, or you, Ava. The only thing I want is Damien." His words sent a shiver down my spine, the raw intensity of his gaze sending a wave of fear coursing through me. I exchanged a worried glance with Ava, the gravity of Monroe's words sinking in as I realized

“Survival? You sound like a paranoid foreigner. If there's real evidence, we will need it . otherwise…” "I don't think you know who is here with you. I'm Jace Monroe, Owner of the Monroe corporation Enterprise. One of the youngest billionaires before age fourteen, Oxford best business graduating student, elite to the United Kingdom royalty, you don't want to act nonchalant with me, I will put a call across and make sure you never get to see the light of the day in your entire life." The man was shocked, he didn't believe his eyes, he stood up and saluted.

He laughed again, softer this time. “So you really don’t know, huh?” Monroe said. “Know what?” Jeremy asked, brow creasing. Monroe bowed slightly. “Have a nice evening, sir. Ma’am. Really huge birthday festival for your son.” He turned and melted into the crowd. Jeremy’s jaw tightened. He waved over two security guys—big, mean, all business. “That old bastard,” he said, nodding after Monroe. “Looks too American. Find out who he is. Now.”

Her dress was tight, expensive, provocative—the kind of outfit that doesn’t ask for attention, it demands it. My heart tightened in my chest, but I kept my face impassive. I couldn’t let Mark notice anything. “Today, we’re chatting with influencer, model, and entrepreneur Vanessa Monroe,” the host announced with that usual fake enthusiasm. “She’s going through a special moment and is here to share some news with us.”