La Tirana Quiere Vivir Honestamente Novelas e Histórias

“It changes nothing. You still own me. I still want to leave. That’s the only truth that matters.” He was quiet for a long moment. “What do you want?” he asked finally. “Freedom.” “Besides that. If you couldn’t leave, if that option didn’t exist, what would you want from this?” She thought about it. Honestly. “Honesty,” she said. “Real honesty. Not the version where you tell me pieces and hide the rest. All of it.” “Even the ugly parts?” “Especially the ugly parts.” He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“I don’t trust you, Livia. You’ve lied to me before. I don’t need anything from you.” She chuckles, the sound too smooth, too mocking. “I’m not asking you to trust me, Eliana. I’m asking you to think. To consider the truth. Your truth.” She steps even closer, her eyes searching mine with a sharp intensity. “I know what it’s like to live in the dark. To wonder what’s real and what’s not. To feel like everything you’ve ever known is a lie.”

Vlador asked. With her eyes trembling, Triana couldn't focus on Vlador's face. "Please let me down. I will die if I fall down there." "Didn't you say it's better to die than to live with an ugly face?" Vlador's lips curled upward. Triana shook her head. "No. Please… I was just talking nonsense." "First lying, now talking nonsense. It seems like your tongue doesn't match your nobility, does it?" Vlador remarked.

Hated parading her broken body in front of the world, but he knew her, Talana didn’t choose battles she couldn’t win, and this… this was the war she’d been born for. When the red light blinked on, silence fell across continents. Talana drew in a rattling breath, her voice steady despite the raw pain thrumming under every word. “My name is Talana Fabrizio Morelli. Daughter of Pablo Fabrizio. Survivor of the trafficking rings of Lazarus. Today, I speak not as a victim, not as a doctor, not even as the woman you see burned before you. I speak as the voice of every woman, every child, every body sold to satisfy the greed of men who believed themselves untouchable.”

“Only the light seems to flatter you more than it used to.” Tiriana laughs—a brittle thing that sounds like glass caught on stone. Her hair is a mess of tangled dark, but there are still flecks of the old queen’s pride in the set of her jaw. “And you’re still flattering me, Eleanor,” she replies, voice hoarse but clear. “Full of compliments.” “Compliments?” I let the idea hang, fractured. “No. Observation. I prefer truth.” Her eyes flick toward me, iron calm. “Truth is a matter of which side you stand on, isn’t it? You stand beside your grandson and call that truth.”

"That was just for show." Ugh, there was no reasoning with her. I wasn't wasting more time, so I cut to the chase, "Why do you even want the park, anyway?" "Because it makes money. If I had it, I wouldn't have to worry about anything for the rest of my life," she said, trying to sound all practical. Honestly, it seemed fair enough—except I wasn't buying it. "Tanya, let's be real. You want something from me, but you're not being honest. How am I supposed to say yes to that?" I called her out.