Legacies Stefanie Salvatore Novels & Stories

“But I heard he’s really serious about his studies. Apparently, he sticks to the rules or something.” Emma nodded, a spark of understanding in her eyes. “He is! But that’s what makes him so interesting. He’s not just good-looking; he has depth and ambition. Did you know he’s on a scholarship too? His family lost their wealth, but he still works hard and takes his responsibilities seriously.” Gabrielle's heart raced with new determination. “If he cares about rules and studying, then maybe I should take my studies seriously too!” she exclaimed, feeling excitement build inside her. “If I can be the best, he might notice me!”

She looked as fresh as sea while I looked like a mummy. “Well,” she said, voice dripping honey. “Look who crawled back.” I stopped. “Francesca.” She tilted her head. “You look… recovered. Pity.” I clenched my bag strap. “What do you want?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I want you to understand something. Salvatore and I have history. Real history. Family ties. Promises made long before you ever walked into his life with your pretty dresses and your rich husband. You think one little rescue changes that?”

She spoke in hushed tones and I knew for sure that she didn't want anyone to hear us. “What do you have in mind? Will you like to call Rodrigo over?” I whispered, as my eyes darted around the room, to see if anyone was eavesdropping on us. That was the last thing I wanted, because it'll be used against me, against us and our secrets will be exposed and by the heavens, this will lead to our downfall. I'm sure Lexi, that little bitch will want to see us crumble, more than anything. Rodrigo was the same man my mother had used in murdering my step mother. He had done it in a way that no one would suspect him, but Lexi and trust me, it worked out perfectly.

Victoria stood at the head of the table, her face twisted in a mask of pure hate. ​"You should have died in the water," Victoria hissed. She held a small black remote in her hand. "One button, Alaric. One button and the Sterling patents are deleted forever. Your father's legacy will be nothing but dust." ​"The patents don't matter, Victoria," Alaric said. He walked into the room, and the Elders shrank back in their chairs. The light from his skin was so bright it made the expensive lamps in the room look dim. "The power isn't in the papers. It’s in the blood. And the blood has been healed."

Elena had stripped that history bare long before she ever wore the name Elena Lafayette. The Salvatore name hadn’t been born a thing of dread. It had been forged into something terrifying, chiseled with limitless brutality by generations who had never learned the meaning of compromise. Dante’s grandfather, Enzo Salvatore, was the kind of man who believed honor and legitimacy could be purchased—so long as the stack of money was tall enough and the blood in his veins cold enough. He had very nearly proved that theory. The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.

Can you forgive me just once more? [Stop testing me, Beatrix. I promise I’ll marry you. Is that enough?]

“I was actually going to suggest we do this together. I want you to feel confident in your role here, Elena. This is your legacy.” The word “legacy” made my stomach churn. I’d spent most of my life working part-time jobs, struggling to make ends meet, and barely scraping by. This world of wealth and power was foreign to me, and no matter how much Adrian reassured me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong. --- Later that day, I decided to take a break from the estate’s endless demands. I wanted to do something special for Adrian, to thank him for standing by me through everything.

But she couldn’t. “I can’t,” she whispered. Amaro’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll wait.” Lucia turned and walked away, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the villa. — Later that night, the Moretti estate buzzed with tension. Don Salvatore sat at the head of the long dining table, his silver hair slicked back, his eyes cold and calculating. Amaro sat across from him, flanked by two bodyguards. “You’re young,” Salvatore said, sipping his wine. “Too young to understand the weight of legacy.”

Jason soon returned with a priest. “Start the ceremony,” Lorenzo said. The priest hesitated, then began. Lucia felt a tight knot in her stomach because Lorenzo's hands were around her waist as she leaned on him like a child. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Lorenzo signed the document. Lucia leaned forward, wincing. Something caught her eyes, his full name. Lorenzo Salvatore. Her stomach dropped. “You’re a Salvatore?” “Yes I am.” “As in the mafia?”

I cut her argument short again, spilling the beans “Luke is Salvatore”