Vanitas No Carte Novels & Stories

Violet began to synthesize the words that Marys spoke and she looked at Marys and Aiyana who nodded like they understood what her facial expressions meant. “The bond you speak of. It is the bond between Scarlet and I, isn’t it?” They nodded in agreement. “And this room, it belongs to her, isn’t it?” She added and they nodded again. Her shoulders dropped and she looked at the door once again.

I mean, I am not sure of my thoughts. I need an answer but no one can. Vani looked at me for long seconds, as if he was waiting for something. "Oh, before I forgot. Sorry, Vani but no one bought from your heart." "My banana heart," he interjected, "Not my heart. It's not fo sale. This is not for sale." Vani drew a heart shape on his chest using his two index fingers.

This life… still feels unreal. Ethan didn’t stop there. When they reached the counter, he didn’t step forward. He didn’t take the card. Instead—he let her handle it. “Use it,” he said simply from where he sat at the lounge, relaxed, composed, as if this was nothing. As if this was normal. Belle froze. The black card in her hand suddenly felt heavier than all the bags she carried combined. Her fingers tightened around it as she approached the counter, her steps hesitant. A thin sheen of sweat formed on her forehead despite the cool air inside the boutique.

Not always the friendly kind. Lydia felt a chill run down her spine. "That's... not funny." "Welcome to Luxemount. Again," Vanessa's grin returned as she held up her wrist. Something caught the light, making Lydia's eyes widen. "Is that...?" "Cartier? Custom-made." Vanessa's smile turned almost dreamy. "Just got it tonight." Lydia reached out, then pulled back. She had learned during her childhood to avoid touching valuable items. Vanessa took hold of her hand and put it on the bracelet. "Look at the engraving."

she said dramatically, like we were opening a cake box or something lighthearted. I peeled the lid off slowly. Inside was a single dead rose. Wilted, blackened at the edges, like it had been plucked from a graveyard. And a card. No name. Just my current address written in the most formal handwriting I had ever seen. My breath caught in my throat. He had found me and his games were about to start again. Vanessa laughed awkwardly. “Uh… dark romance vibes?” “I....I need a sec,” I stammered, jumping up.

Far across the city, Carmine Vitale was smiling. He stood in his high-rise study, surrounded by wealth soaked in old blood. Rain tapped against the windows, soft and rhythmic, like a lullaby from the devil himself. His glass of red wine shimmered in the dim light, held delicately in one hand, while his other hovered above a stack of pristine invitations. Each one sealed with the Vitale crest. Each one a grenade disguised as civility. He traced a finger along the embossed lettering, admiring the illusion of it all. So elegant. So inviting.

Vivian flashed a smile, bestowed a lingering kiss upon Louis, and whispered, "I gotta go, bae!" He was evidently reluctant to let her leave, still utterly captivated by her enchanting kiss. As the secretary stepped in, announcing that Ms. Vanessa Hart requested to see him, Vivian made her way out, only to be met with Vanessa's gaze. The mysterious smile playing on Vanessa's lips unsettled Vivian. She did not recognize this woman, so why did she seem to look at her as if they shared a secret? Vanessa's eyes held Vivian's, her smile unwavering, creating an ambiance filled with unspoken words and hidden implications. Increasingly unnerved, Vivian found herself questioning the true intentions be

“I can help you select a few clothes. Seeing you walk around in white clothes like a ghost hurts my eyes.” Vanilla was pulled up by Imaya who took her straight to a sleek, black, car. “To the shopping Oasis.” Imaya cheered, holding the black card in her hand with shinny eyes, while Vanilla turned her head to the where she had been sitting before, there, standing and tracing the vines was Darkness, his dark gaze focused on her direction.

Her gaze was completely blank, locked entirely on the frantic, hammering pulse at Jessica's throat. "Phase Four: Part One," Vane whispered. He stepped directly behind me. I could feel the cold, sterile draft of his presence. He rested his pale hand lightly on the back of my steel chair, leaning in close so his voice slithered directly into my ear. "The Death of Devotion," Vane murmured, watching the screen with clinical fascination. "Watch closely, Lolita. This is the precise moment your feral, beautiful empire begins to bleed. Let us see how much your hounds truly love you."

"Funny how that works." Vanessa examined her manicure. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. The evidence was stacked on the table like a courthouse exhibit, a timeline of betrayal, neat and damning and completely fabricated, and Vanessa sat there watching it work with the quiet satisfaction of a woman admiring her own handiwork.