Marisol Garcia Novels & Stories

Mr. Jericho del Fuego had this impression of Teacher Maria. She is quite far different from all the women being linked to him. Maria is more of conservative type and naive. She was the only one who doesn't show any interest in him when he accidentally send her to their home in Rosario.

Marisol accepted and i watched them grind on eachother for what felt like forever. When the song was over Marisol and Richard parted ways, Marisol walked in my direction "Buy me a drink?" she asked. i turned to the bartender and waved him over. "what are you drinking?" i asked. "Peach Margarita" she responded as she sat in the seat to the right of me. for the next two hours we talked about work and about our personal lives. I dont know what came over me that night but i just forgot to mention Janet.

Diego whistled. "I am dating your sister" I cut him off looking at him like he was crazy. A knock sounded throughout the room earning all our heads to turn in the direction of the door. "That's everything, Wait for my update" Lorenzo finished as The door opened and in walked María. She was wearing white jeans and a dark Green long sleeve crop top. She looks beautiful as always. I swiftly stood to my feet, My eyes glued to her as she slowly but cautiously entered the room. "Baby sis got him whipped, did you see how fast man's moved then?" Diego laughed, Lorenzo and Marcel Chuckling along at his remark.

Thalia responded, seamlessly transitioning from business to attend to her surroundings. "Detective Wallace is here," Marie informed, adding an unexpected twist to the routine. "Show him into my office. I will be there in a minute." "Okay, Mom," Marie walked back, leaving an air of anticipation in the room. "Detective Wallace? What do you have with that man?" George inquired, highlighting the intrigue surrounding Thalia's connection with law enforcement. "I'm his informant. We talk about Gabriella. Is that enough for you, George?" Thalia answered politely with no hesitation, subtly revealing her dual roles.

I asked. "Surviving," Marisol said simply. "Trying to understand what I'd become, exiled from everything I once knew, complicit in danger I never intended to cause when I first started spreading rumors against you out of nothing more than jealousy and wounded pride." She looked at me directly, something raw in her expression that hadn't been present during any of our previous confrontations. "I've had a long time to consider what actually drove me to that jealousy, Elena. I watched you arrive here with nothing, and become someone this entire kingdom eventually needed to survive. I think, if I'm honest, I hated you because some part of me recognized you were capable of something I'd never man

Words she recognized because once, they would have been hers. She was still sitting there, barefoot in Damien’s old shirt, when her phone buzzed again. A name she didn’t expect: Marisol Vega, a producer, director and two-time Cannes darling, known for turning micro-budgets into films that critics described as “soul wounds on celluloid.” They’d met once at a charity gala, both dressed in gowns they couldn’t breathe in, making small talk under the glare of flashbulbs. Celeste read the message twice.

“I’m a journalist, and I’m damn good at it. If you don’t want a weird little story about you starting to make the rounds, you’d better keep that poisonous little mouth shut... or you’re going to learn what power really looks like.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Marcella’s livid face was pure poetry. I heard footsteps outside. Stephanie straightened up, much taller than both of us. “So think twice before you put on another show like this. Victoria Greco... is untouchable,” she said, flat and final, with a level of arrogance I’d never even dared to feel. Marcella’s red-rimmed eyes flicked to her in fear, then landed on me, full of rage. The kind of hate that never leaves.

She stepped closer, her eyes meeting mine. “Maria is locked away,” she said, watching my face carefully. I didn’t flinch. But my pulse jumped. “She claims she is innocent,” Luna Isobel continued. “But I also know that she is on your side, against Elara. And she wants you to be the one to stand beside my son. And sometimes, consorts and slaves would do what they are paid to do.” “She is innocent, and if you are implying that I’ve had anything to do with this…”

Mateo stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching sharply in his chest as he took in the scene. There she was. She was winding her waist against the brass pole, her body completely bare under the red glow for the client on the couch. As Mateo stared at her, his heart hammered violently against his ribs. He saw the intricate silver lace mask covering her eyes. He saw the distinct, incredibly long waves of dark hair falling over her bare shoulders, framing her exposed breasts exactly like the girl from his memory. He recognized the shape of her jaw, the curve of her waist, and the fierce, angry energy radiating from her very skin. It was her. The dancer from the night before.

with that she climbed upstairs After few seconds footsteps were heard from the staircase, looking up ,I saw Gomez's wife now looking pail and fragile due to stress and maltreatment. Behind her I saw a totally different person, her courageous Aura stood out , she was breath taking and nothing close to any of her pictures I saw , her curves were ... No Ace, you shouldn't admire her like that ,oh Lord save me , was all i could pray.