Not A Villian Novels & Stories

Besides— “He is a billionaire with everything he wants, perfect body, perfect face, no kids, a wife, and enough stamina for eight rounds in a night. “What exactly needs saving?” The comments exploded. [Holy hell. Villianess’s attack power is maxed out.] [She just says whatever she wants. I’m sweating.] [Eight rounds? Are we serious? Cast me in two episodes please.] [Ugh, this makes me dislike the heroine. Author, please rewrite the romance line.] [Right? She is supposed to be a pure sweet little girl, not a sour grape.] Quincy was stunned speechless. My words seemed to hit a nerve.

Karen. “My wife isn't a traitor, and she didn't sell me out. Lauren Vale is Lauren Valentine, a true Blood, and Isabella is the outsider. I know you were trying to survive, but you would have helped my enemies defeat me in the process,” I said, and the doctor had tears in her eyes. She went on her knees and bared her neck to me immediately.

Let the world see the snake under the skin. "I don't know what happened to you, Val," she hissed, leaning over the table, her voice a low, vibrating growl. "But I am genuinely worried about you. Treating me this way... it doesn't change the truth. You can't let Cillian come between us. He is the enemy, not me!" She was still clinging to it. Still insisting on this petty narrative where Cillian was the only villain and she was my only ally. Did she truly think I was so blinded by my history with him that I couldn't see the strings she’d been pulling?

A chant not for her, but against her. “Villainess. Villainess. Villainess.” Seren’s stomach turned to ice. They weren’t wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She had just hijacked the heroine’s story. Kael leaned down, his breath hot against her ear, his voice pitched only for her: “Let them chant. A villainess…” His thumb brushed the line of her jaw, possessive and reverent. “…is far harder to forget than a saint.” The System hummed in satisfaction.

Valcarcel knows that my soul doesn't belong in this world, sure he would be interested to study this matter and use me as a research subject! Then she heard the butler softly ask. “Is it because Mr. Valcarcel is a psychotic villain?” I subconsciously answered while I was lost in my thoughts. “Yes that's right, it's because he's a psychotic villain.” When I realized her words, I immediately snapped back to reality as I shook my head. “No, no it's not because of that. What I mean is that he's Uhm... he's... he's a...” What is he other than a psychotic villain?

A faint, thrilling heat began to uncoil in her stomach. "If your son knew his father was sleeping with the woman he loves, I imagine he'd be quite horrified," Nicha sneered. The petite woman made a move to get up and leave. This middle-aged man was simply far too charismatic. Even though he was approaching his fifties, his magnetism was undeniably dangerous. "I'm not the only villain here, Nicha. You're just as wicked as I am," Chayon said, his jaw tightening. "And so what?" the younger woman fired back.

The video left everyone in shock, in a span of minutes, a riot broke out, the citizens were angered that the amount of comments on the internet was so fierce. The video left everyone in shock, no one knew how to react to such shocking truth, first they couldn't believe that William Hart, the man that always portrayed a good image was so dirty, they couldn't believe that their best actor, Bryce was killed by his own father!! who could believe such shocking truth? He killed his own wife, if he could kill his own wife and son, then what about a mere commoner, all the citizens shivered in fear.

The law stands intact even for those who are family. I feel my insides clenching in fear. He is doing this. He will do it if I didn’t answer now. Of all, it’s not some cliché world where the hero forgives his cheating wife. Valentine was a hero for only me not for the world and would go to immeasurable depths to prove it right. After all, he was a villain, a devil and he hated to lose.

Unpredictability could be dangerous. She turned back to the bleak garden, the weight of the castle, the title, the terrible fate, pressing down on her. She was Vivian Ashworth, the villainess. Prince Alexander arrived tomorrow. Her brother was plotting. The heroine was nearby. And she had no idea what schemes were already in play.

“I’m not a hero.” “I’m the villain remember,” he reminded me with a grin. “All good villains know how to identify heroes.” He turned his attention to the vine, and the plant pulled back, the vines withering, the flowers and leaves falling, until there was nothing but the faintest shadow on the stone to indicate that it had ever existed at all.