Novel Victoria Novels & Stories

I smiled, imagining it against the pale skin of her neck. “Thank you,” I told Viktor. He nodded and turned to leave. I wanted to ask him which lucky woman he had bought that bracelet for, but I didn't want to be nosy. I called Novel the second he closed the door. “Hello?” she answered with a long yawn. “Are you just waking up?” I asked. “Yes,” she replied, her voice hoarse and heavy with sleep. It was noon, and she was only just opening her eyes. My mate was truly something else.

Every move now had to be calculated with painstaking caution. Victoria, determined and quiet, made her way toward a door hidden behind Viviana’s couch, one I hadn’t noticed before. She opened it with purpose, revealing a vast study I had never set foot in. My eyes widened at the pure magnitude of it—endless shelves lined with books, each one possibly holding a secret or spell that could change our fate. The room smelled of parchment, ink, and memories long past. Victoria's fingers danced over the spines of countless volumes, her expression focused, intense, as she searched for one book in particular. When she found it, there was no hesitation. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning the ancie

Now, it was just anger—a fire deep within her chest that refused to be extinguished. She couldn’t help but replay everything that had led her here: the lies, the manipulation, the betrayal. Isabella, Lord Thomas, even the Duke, all of them playing their parts in a cruel game of power. But Victoria had never been a mere pawn. She wouldn’t be. Not now, not ever. She had already lost so much—her freedom, her dignity—but she wasn’t going to lose herself too.

he groaned, his voice a low vibration as he finally stopped resisting. He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck. Victoria let out a sharp, shattered breath. To her, every touch was an explosion of sensory overload. She couldn’t see him clearly; he was a silhouette of safety in a world of static. She felt the coolness of his skin against her feverish body and clung to him like a drowning woman.

The maid, meticulously trained to cater to Victoria's every whim, had arranged the tea on the table, a testament to the seamless efficiency that permeated the luxurious household. With her iPad in hand, Victoria immersed herself in a realm of social media, scrolling through amusing comments with an air of detachment. The comments were a mere backdrop to her current state of triumph. She reveled in the glory of her ascent to wealth, a journey meticulously navigated through manipulation and strings artfully pulled around Richard.

And just like any billionaire heiress out there, Victory has a LOT of STUFF in her apartment in the form of clothes and shoes. Victory was so busy with packing and moving into Arthur's apartment that by the time the last box had arrived in Arthur's apartment, the sun had dipped in the horizon. Glancing at the time, she hurriedly entered her bathroom, she was feeling all hot and sticky and desperately needed a shower. Almost an hour later, she exited her walk-in closet, wearing a demure, white Ted Baker dress with a huge black bow across her chest. Perhaps this is Victory's way of saying she's gifting herself to Arthur, all wrapped nicely in Ted Baker's oversized bow.

She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to travel back to the weeks leading up to the forced wedding. Think, Seraphina. Think. Victoria had been going out nearly every night, coming home at three in the morning smelling of expensive champagne and Cuban cigars—not the cheap lifestyle their family's crumbling finances could afford. Then, there was the sudden influx of high-end designer bags hidden in the back of Victoria's closet, and finally, that custom silver necklace. Seraphina opened her eyes and began writing down a meticulous timeline on the paper. March 14th: Victoria claims she met a "gullible trust-fund boy" at an exclusive club downtown.

Victoria attacked Grant by moving quickly forward and slapping him hard across his face. He fell back into the stone table after the impact, which created a red mark that burned on his cheek. He bit his lip until it bled, refusing to let a single cry escape his throat. Victoria realized she had gone too far with her predatory instincts after she started to breathe in quick breaths. A dark plot took root in her mind. "You little scavenger!" she shrieked. "How dare you attempt to pilfer the Donovan ancestral relics!" Grant stared at her in shock. "You are weaving lies out of thin air."

His dark e‌yes were fixed on Victor‌ia, who stood i‍n front o‍f the de‍sk, flanked by Ma‍rc‌us and Julianna. Victori‍a looked​ like⁠ a ghost. He⁠r spi​ri​t was comp‍le⁠tel​y brok‍en, t‌he real‌izat​ion of her absolute ir​r‌elevance in this new wo‌rld fi​nally sinking in​. "‍You're going‌ to k​ill me," Victoria said, her voice fl‌a​t and hollow.⁠

Alexander’s dark eyes locked onto Victoria the moment he stepped inside, a faint glint of dark warmth softening his sharp features. "Am I interrupting the smear campaign review?" Alexander asked, his deep voice vibrating through the room. "Not at all," Victoria replied, a genuine, sharp smile touching her lips. "We were just discussing Penelope’s sudden career change into tragic fiction." Alexander approached the table, resting one hand on the back of Victoria’s chair, his presence establishing an immediate, protective perimeter around her. The subtle scent of cedarwood and faint rain drifted off his tailored suit. "Fiction doesn't survive when exposed to reality," Alexander said, turning hi