Legacies Stefanie Salvatore Novels & Stories

Layla and Savannah make polite small talk and then thankfully the alcohol starts to kick in and my nerves start to cease. “Tell me about Aeron and Cain.” I say, after I’m a few drinks down and my courage is growing. “What do you want to know?” Savannah asks. “Anything, what were they like growing up?” Savannah smiles. “Cain was a nightmare. He was always getting into trouble. Aeron was my dependable one, my reliable one.” “What about me? I was reliable.” Layla says and Savannah snorts. “Oh please, you spent your childhood either daydreaming or chasing the boys.”

“You wanted honesty.” He leaned back, looking up at the broken ceiling of the chapel. Light filtered in through the shattered stained glass, casting broken rainbows on the floor between us. “So she’s out there. Somewhere. A version of you who believes everything should be razed and rebuilt with fire. And she’s walking around with your face and possibly your memories.” “Not just memories,” I said. “Instinct. Legacy. And worst of all—freedom. She’s not bound by the things I still wrestle with. She doesn’t carry guilt. Or fear. She’s past all that.”

A cruel smile spread across her face. “Today is your lucky day,” she purred, dragging a long, yellowed nail down my jawline. “I don’t feel like eating you… But your friend—” her gaze flicked toward Beth, who was frozen in horror at the foot of the basement stairs, “—she’s definitely on my menu tonight.” My eyes widened. “No! Please!” I begged. The witch only laughed, a bone-chilling cackle that echoed off the stone walls. And then—she vanished, her form melting into the darkness like smoke.

“Because of you, my life is in ruins. This is my only chance at happiness now.” “Elara…” Lucien’s voice softened, breaking. “Go,” Stephanie ordered. Elara left as the door closed behind her. “No…” Lucien exhaled sharply, taking a step forward before his strength gave out as he collapsed back onto the sofa. “Don’t damage that chair, or you’ll pay for it,” Stephanie said coldly without even looking back. “That chair is far more valuable than you are.” Lucien’s fists tightened at his sides; a tremor of rage passed through him… but he held it in.

“I’ve waited years for this moment.” Matteo’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Who the hell are you?” She tilted her head, studying me with unnerving affection. “I’m the one who made sure you survived. The one who pulled the strings when the Architect grew too arrogant. I am the true Legacy.” Red laser sights danced across our chests from the shadows. Dozens of them. We were surrounded. I stepped out from behind Matteo, heart hammering. “You’re my aunt. You were supposed to be dead.”

But they carry everything. Matteo will be Don one day. I see it already—how he grips my finger like he’s claiming something. How he stares, unblinking, like he’s memorizing the world. Salvatore’s gentler. He hums when he sleeps. He’ll take the KC Family in the States, GreenLee’s legacy in his blood, her name behind him. He’ll be her second. Her heir. Her son. She’s still the boss. No one questions that. Not here. Not in New York. Not in Naples. But she’s building something bigger than power. She’s building a future. One where the boys don’t have to choose between love and legacy. One where they inherit both.

"You'll never touch her again." A soft laugh echoed. "Oh, Dominic." The voice turned colder. "You still believe this is about love." Scarlett's fists clenched. "Then what is it about?" Silence. Then "Legacy." The word echoed like ice. "My legacy. Your mother's failure. And the bloodline that must continue." Scarlett's stomach turned. No. She was not some inheritance. Not some experiment. The countdown dropped again. 02:02 Her father looked at the central server. "We need the master drive."

“…An honor?” For a moment, he thought he had misheard. Nobody ever spoke to him like that. Not in his world. Inside the Hayes mansion, he was called useless. A burden. A mistake. Honor didn’t belong anywhere near his name. He let out a short, bitter breath. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m not interested.” “This is not a joke, sir,” The voice replied immediately. “My name is Victor Hale. I am the chief steward of the Cross family.”

"She reminds you of her, doesn't she?" "She makes you fear that it could happen to you too, isn't it?" Nathan's breath momentarily stopped as soon as he heard those words coming out of Estefany's repulsive mouth, his hands starting to shake at his sides as he fought with all his might not to think about any of those specific memories. "Estefany..." He growled under his breath into a silent warning, unfortunately only managing to stir her some more as she let out a cynical laugh. "Who would've thought? Our Alpha, our mighty, powerful soon-to-be king brought to his knees by a puny little-"

“Yes. Because we didn’t want the daughter we created to be the child of someone else’s obsession.” Savannah turned away, tears stinging her gaze, reflecting in the broken frames. “Then it’s time to burn down every lie we built on her ashes.” He rose then, reaching for her—but she held still. “I will,” he whispered. “But only if you choose to stand with me.” She watched him, saw grief and love and something like regret ripple across his face. For a moment, she thought: Maybe some truths are stronger than legacy. *** Savannah closed her eyes and let the world tilt. She walked to the center of the room, surrounded by her reflection mirrored a dozen different ways—broken memory captured in glass