Sofia Torres Sloan Novels & Stories

“T-The top floor, Miss Montero.” “Thank you.” With a polite nod, Sofia strode past the receptionist. Her high heels echoed against the floors as she made her way toward the elevator. On her way, she passed a group of junior employees clustered around desks, their eyes wide as they shamelessly whispered. “Is that her?” one of them whispered. “She looks even more powerful in person,” another murmured. “She’s the one from the summit. I didn’t even know the Monteros had a daughter.”

Allen was already thinking about the next step of his plan — how to solidify his image as the company’s true leader. “You are truly one of a kind,” the man complimented as they walked down the stairs. “I thought for sure that the Rodriguez group would finally crumble when they announced a woman as the next chairman.” “She was a capable woman though,” Allen defended, pretending to be annoyed by his words.

Matteo POV. I’m laying in bed going over the events of recent days. We had not long returned from Sicily with Andros. The girls went with Lola and Cassian back to my compound and I headed with Andros to Bristol-Romano International HQ. That was when it happened. The moment tesoro mio remembered her brother. Then she collapsed and had a seizure. Not long after that, her assistants arrived to find her and Andros was instructed to let Cass or Anastasia or whatever you want to call her rest.

Tanya said, waving over her shoulder as Jessi rushed out of the room. ************************** Sofia packed little and took a flight to New Mexico. She booked a room at a resort beforehand and checked in once she got there. Then she freshened up and left for the cemetery, buying a bouquet on her way. 'Rosita Huerado' '1938 - 2018' Sofia's eyes brimmed with tears, and she dropped to her knees, letting the tears flow freely,

(SOFIA QUISPE’S POINT OF VIEW) “You’re lurking in the shadows again, Toby. It’s a bit cliché for a vampire aide, don’t you think? Either come into the light or find a more original hobby,” Sofia said, her voice cutting through the heavy, pressurized silence of the Montague archives. She didn't turn around to face him. Her focus remained on the ancient, holographic maps of the district borders, her violet eyes scanning the flickering blue lines for any weakness she could exploit.

he told Isabella slowly and she looked at him shocked. She couldn't believe the man standing in front of her was the same man who used to do the trafficking of women and treat them like slaves. She tried to search any lie or bluffing in his eyes but couldn't find any. He extended the scissors towards her and she took it with her shaky hands. He gestured his men to remove the cover from the name of the NGO building and when Isabella saw it her eyes widened not believing her eyes. The name of the NGO was "ISABELLA FOUNDATION", she looked at him with her wide eyes and he simply passed her a small smile.

"Dr. Hartman's team conducted extensive studies on the follicle, attempting to understand its unique properties and potential applications. Their research aimed to uncover the origins of the creature and explore its genetic makeup." The next image showed a young woman with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a lab coat and glasses. "Dr. Rebecca Torres," Dune continued. "Assistant to Dr. Hartman. She holds a master's degree in Molecular Biology from Stanford University. Dr. Torres has been involved in several key projects at BioTech Innovations, focusing on cellular regeneration and advanced gene therapy." Alex studied the screen, his mind racing with possibilities. "So these two h

Torres. He picked up and put it on speaker without asking Kira, because she was already leaning forward slightly, and Torres’s voice came through. “I’ve got the match,” Torres said. “Confirmed across three separate recognition databases. Isabel Morrison and Sophia Mitchell are the same person. I’ve got a full report with source documentation, I can have it to you within the hour.” Kira sat back in her chair. Adrian looked at her across the table, at the expression on her face that was not satisfaction, not relief, just the particular stillness of someone watching something they’d known for a long time finally become provable.