The Legacy Elle Kennedy Novels & Stories

anything. Lillian's mouth became thinner. "You're allowing your feelings to influence your decisions. Nicholas, this is bigger than you.” It has to do with legacy. Once more, there it was. Legacy. He felt the word scratch him like nails on a whiteboard. His voice was forceful and low as he continued, "I won't let you control her." "Or the twins." Lillian's face remained unwavering. "You lose track of who you're talking to."

But the sheer volume of lethal intent that suddenly radiated from his posture made Evelyn’s instinct scream at her to turn and run. “Careful, girl,” Arthur said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. “You are playing with things that can make you disappear.” “In 2008, your late wife, Eleanor, transferred forty million dollars to a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands under the name 'C.H. Legacy,'” Evelyn said, her words rapid but precise, pulling directly from the memories of the hidden ledger she had memorized in her past life.

The elder of legacy spoke. The Elder of Legacy is the second lady in the lair of leaders after the Viking wolf. She is the Luna of the supreme leader who eliminated 3 million enemies in the Great War of Sirens. She was also sympathetic compared to the rest of them, and that was why the board never made any aggressive decisions for fun. “I chose to be without a mate.” The Executioner murmured. “What did you say?” She giggled. “We have a case on our hands; no time for humor.” The supreme leader spoke.

“That’s impossible.” The screen flickered. Then displayed a single sentence: You saved the children. Another line appeared. But can you save the future? Adrian’s voice hardened. “Trace it!” “I’m trying!” Lucas’s fingers flew across the console. “Signal is piggybacking quantum noise. There’s no fixed source!” The screen went black. Then one final message surfaced: Legacy is not a person. It is an idea. Elena stared at the words, heartbeat steady. “Victor,” Adrian muttered.

Not a press release. A mission. A plan. Elena hadn’t just given her memories. She’d handed her a legacy. And Ava had no intention of letting it die.

I hadn’t begged for his company, hadn’t begged for my mother’s excitement or her misplaced hope. I didn’t even want him. What I wanted… My legacy. The fire Lily had stirred in me was no small flame. It burned hotter with every second, a furnace roaring deep in my bones. Her smug smiles, her veiled threats and her crocodile tears had pushed me to the edge, I want to challenge her. I can’t fight for a man, but I can fight for what rightfully belongs to me. She could have Lucas and play the sweet fiancée, flutter her lashes until her eyes fell out. That wasn’t my war.

Remember running away from the wedding is not the end of it, you still have so much to do if you really want to reclaim your Father's legacy, your legacy" " Hmmph" I breathed heavily into the phone, it was as if someone slapped me back to reality. I needed that "Stay with Mr McQueen and try to get him to marry you. He is the only chance you have, be brave. I mean it's even better now that he already knows everything and still helped, It means that even if he doesn't marry you he can still help out in some way, don't let yourself loose this opportunity" " You are right" " Good luck don't worry about me I will be here when you return" " Ok I will call you when I can"

"The one with the porcelain ballerina? I hope it’s still there. I want Leo to see where I grew up, but only the good parts. I want to show him the garden where my mother planted the white roses." "He’ll love it," Sarah said. "He has your eyes, Elara. He deserves to know the legacy he’s actually inheriting the legacy of the woman who fought for him, not the people who tried to erase him." They spent the next few minutes talking, not about stocks or litigation or the Vanes, but about the future. They laughed about the absurdity of their parents' vanity and planned a quiet dinner away from the cameras and the chaos. For a brief window of time, they weren't the architects of a financial massacre

His jaw clenched. “Watch your big mouth, little nosy bastard,” he said. The oldest of the lot—a Fat Man with the stained silk tie and short temper—leaned back in his chair and tapped the edge of his glass. “Calm down everybody! You can’t have both the girl and your legacy, Elky Jennings. You have to pick one or another.” Legacy? What a poetic word for a stash of blood money in a dodgy Swiss account and multiple floors of empty rooms with 18th century closets full of skeletons. I swallowed a smirk with my wine but my face didn’t move a muscle.

“Legacy and three others will meet us in Miami. It’s not ideal, but they aren’t in the city right now and it doesn’t make any sense for them to come back when we are heading out tonight, anyway.” “And this Legacy is who exactly?” I rolled my eyes. Why did they always have to have such stupid nicknames? “He’s trained in…?” “He’s an ex-marine,” Elodie whispered, and all eyes turned to her in surprise. Too late, she realised she had spoken out loud. She visibly shook herself, straightening her shoulders. “Jesus, I can’t do this.” She was on her feet in a second, her phone gripped in her hand. “If you will excuse me.”