Manoir Vendetta Novels & Stories

‎The Blackwood mansion was quiet when the car arrived. ‎Grace stepped out slowly and looked at the house in front of her. It was large, modern, and cold. Glass, steel, and stone. Nothing warm. Nothing welcoming. It looked exactly like the man who owned it. ‎Nathaniel walked ahead, already loosening his tie. “You’ll have your own room,” he said without turning around. “The staff has been informed. If you need anything, speak to the housekeeper. She reports to my assistant, not me.”

When he clicked on the sentence, he was taken to another page, featuring the image of a man embracing a weeping woman and a paragraph: Maybe you’ve lost someone to violence, or perhaps you have been the victim of a violent crime. Either way, your life has been altered and a hole has been punched open in your world. Through it comes the most malignant, destructive monster of all: FEAR. More vicious than any violent criminal, more evil than the deeds of any killer, fear will rob you of what’s left of your life. There’s only one way out of the haunted forest: You must go through. You must face what you most fear. We can show you how.

this drew growls from all the werewolves in the room. “Vendetta…” “Fine! That's all I have to say, if you manage to court her in the right way…not your usual possessive and dominated way, she will fall in love with one of you.” “How do you suppose we humanly court her?” Knox asked, hating the idea as I do. Vendetta shrugged, “I don't know.” Ten cleared his throat “I don't think Vendetta's Idea is good enough.” he says, drawing everyone's attention to him “how about you all share her like having a threesome or something…”

I glance at the guy and I am ready to lash out and explain myself to him. The guy is wearing a sky blue long sleeve polo that has been folded until his elbow. He locked his gazes to me reason why I stared to him too. Foreign features is evident from his eyes, I am sure that he is not a pure Filipino. His eyes are blue and his pouty lips are screaming hotness with expensiveness on his look. I am still staring at the guy when the manager suddenly grabbed my arm gently and pull closer to him. ‘’Miss Caroline, it will be better if you cooperate now.’’ The manager whispered and smiled to the guy in front of us.

Andrew Reynolds stood at the door of his grand mansion, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He winced as he felt a sharp twinge of pain in his side, a reminder of the brutal fight he had had with Henry. He pulled out his sunglasses and slipped them on, hoping to conceal the bruises and cuts on his face. Moments later, the sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up to the entrance of the mansion. Andrew stepped out, adjusting his shades and taking a moment to compose himself. He stood tall, his hands in his pockets, as Tony rushed to open the car door for him.

Kira Quezada faked her own death to escape a family legacy that wanted to sell her off like a signature on a contract. Three years later, disguised as a cleaner, she's finally safe, until her new boss looks at her twice and realizes exactly who she is. Luciano Rodriguez doesn't expose her. He makes her an offer instead: marry him, save his dying grandmother's peace of mind, and help him bait the uncle circling his empire like a wolf. It's supposed to be a contract. Nothing more. But the man she was promised to as a girl and the man hunting Luciano's throne are the same person, and he's not done with either of them. As old secrets surface and new ones are made in the dark, Kira has to decide

She’d given the maître d’ one name, written in Vivienne’s curling hand: Allegra Moreau. And the velvet rope had vanished. Lethbridge spotted them the moment they stepped onto the terrace. Sixty, tanned, his smile the kind that tried to seduce while it judged. A pale blue suit. Napkin in one hand, flute of Veuve in the other. “Ms. Moreau,” he said warmly, his voice all studied charm. “Or shall I say… her shadow?” Isolde didn’t blink. “Depends on who you’re remembering.”

~ARIA~ Valente Estate, Southern Italy — Many Years Before the Bloodstorm Theme: Innocence in Ash. Love Before War. Dreams That Never Survived. ~~~~~ The Valente estate was carved from black marble and colder ambition. It stretched across the hills like a scar, beautiful only in how mercilessly it consumed everything around it: the olive trees, the lavender fields, the sky. Its beauty was a warning. And inside its walls, nothing grew—not trust, not peace, and certainly not love.

No sorry will work, no reconciliation too. “But it won’t change a thing… you ruined my life and please don’t call me Irish because I am not Irish” I said in a calm voice even though I am irritated already. “We will have a game… I hid a knife somewhere in this house and once you find it… you will be lucky you can use it against me” I said while still looking at Mang Berto and the look in his eyes asking me, if I am sure and without a word, I nodded because I want him to trust me. I already planned it and I know it will work.

"Five years ago, you came to our pack offering peace, but at what cost? You demanded the trueborn daughter of the late Lucian Dumont, Camille Dumont. Moments later, disaster struck, leaving us devastated and sickened. Camille's body was never found, and we were led to believe she perished in the accident. But the truth cannot stay buried forever, can it, Dimitri Galdina?" His accusations hit me like a slap in the face, and before I could stop myself, I lunged forward, seizing him by the throat and pulling him close. "Do you want to die?" I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. Struggling against my grip, Mr. Menard met my gaze with defiance. "I am a dead man walking Lycan," he spat, his words