Liana Perlich Novels & Stories

Luca Liana raised her head and looked toward Silas. A smug smile touched her lips. I had made sure my female guards did their best with her. She could barely stand on her own. Her injured shoulder was tightly bandaged just to keep her alive for the next few hours. However, somehow, she found the strength to lift her head and look at Silas. Silas wiped the sweat that had formed across his forehead. “This is Liana Ricci,” I said calmly. “I think you know her. She was the one who framed Mila years ago and humiliated her publicly a few months back.”

Biting my lip in concentration. "I think I'm done," I say, his face is outstanding better already. Patching itself together as though nothing happened. He doesn't move, "you're beautiful." I flush. Looking down and picking at my cracked nails. "Stop." Chris merely smiles, "You are Andrea. And I'm going to remind you every chance I get." I fumble to words, to any response. I've never considered myself beautiful. My almost platinum blonde hair was weirdly natural and my blue eyes where so light they sometimes seemed to reflect clouds. But beautiful? No.

She dialed a number she knew off head and called. "It takes great talent and skill to veil great talent and skill. Little Lotus, how is the brighter side of the world?" A crooked old female voice answered the phone. "Only psychopaths and manipulators can achieve hiding their talents and skills Elder Hoshi. Everything is going as planned thank you for asking. Oh, but a Hian Ji attacked me at my home and knows everything about me. I thought I died and my existence was erased with you and the other Elders' help. What's going on?"

Today belonged to the other side of the Volkov Empire — the part that didn’t appear on any balance sheet. Viktor rode with me in the armored SUV down to the secure underground levels. “Report,” I said once we were alone in the soundproof conference room. Viktor opened a thin black folder. “Liliana Miller. Twenty-four years old. Blood type O-negative. Height 5'6", measurements 34-24-36. No major medical issues beyond the hormone treatments she endured for three years. Financially strained — significant debt from medical bills. No criminal record. Father deceased, mother lives in another state and they’re estranged. Very few close friends. The one she’s staying with now is Jessica Harlan — for

When the doors opened into the grand living room, Liana was already waiting—with another woman. She was stunningly elegant, intelligent, with the poised air of someone who knew power wasn’t given, it was earned. I recognized her immediately. Lone Wolf Gill. One of the most formidable agents in the entire industry. The woman even Justin had tried—and failed—to sign with. I hadn’t expected her to be Liana’s friend. Liana stood and smiled gently, her hand resting on her baby bump. “Mia, I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up myself. I’m feeling a little off today.”

She could barely even swallow properly. “Aren't you going to do anything? Or are you just nervous?” One of the ladies asked, and Liya turned back to look at her. The lady quickly extended her hand. “Liana Sinclair. Xavier Sinclair's sister.” Liya could quickly spot the similarities between the two. Liya took her hand. “Liya Marino.” “Aldo Marino's wife. I know.” Liya found herself blushing. The only thing she could do was watch Liana as she touched her makeup, applied more lip gloss, and fixed her hair. They were soon huddled out of the dressing room.

I shrugged. “Well, I’m fairly certain that my sister-in-law has a cheat sheet I can get for you.” she laughed. “Your sister-in-law? The psychologist in LA?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “Oh, not Larissa. Like me, Larissa grew up around the Frost family. No, I mean Adam’s second wife, Liliana. She made the cheat sheet to keep everyone straight when she married Adam ten years ago.” she explained.

I wasn’t someone who usually thought about things like that. Then, a lady began walking toward us. She wore a soft lilac dress that fitted her curves and her blonde hair was styled into curls cascading down her back. Her makeup looked flawless. She looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. It was her; I quickly recognized the face ;Lianna Garcia. I had seen her picture many times in magazines and gossip columns. She was always standing beside her wealthy husband at charity events or fancy parties. She stopped in front of us and extended a manicured hand.

She ran the remaining distance in long, silent strides, scent-masking compounds already applied, keeping to the densest cover. She did not call the scouts to her. Instead she visited each observation post in turn, appearing only long enough to receive the latest notes and confirm the rotation schedule was holding. Then she began her own work. For three full days Liliana moved along the perimeter of Lowlith Falls. She mapped every ridge, every unnatural thinning of undergrowth, every place where the rock face looked too smooth or too deliberately broken. She marked possible hidden exits by forest density and the depth of the stone formations, carefully noting which theories were strongest and

But for Lilia, none of that mattered. Her eyes were fixed on the painting—the last item of the night. "Horizon’s Lament," a masterpiece by Elian Devereux, the last work from the renowned artist before his untimely death. She had spent months studying it—memorizing every brushstroke, tracing the artist's intentions in catalog prints, and immersing herself in its history. This was more than just a painting. It was her last connection to something pure, something untouchable. And tonight, she was determined to win it.