Vanitas No Carte Novels & Stories

The netizens jokingly called him a hopeless romantic, and the fans who shipped us were utterly obsessed. But one day, when he was still logged in on his WhatsApp account on the tablet, a woman sent him a message with a video. In the video, the woman was cosplaying as a bunny police officer, and her gaze was suggestive. She was sitting in a kneeling position with her legs spread apart, and both her hands were unfastening the buttons of her shirt, revealing supple skin that seemed eager to break free. "Bunny really misses Benny. I want Benny to do things to me!"

“To those who doubted me, consider this my resurrection.” Leo stood beside her, expression unreadable, but I saw it, the cold confidence, the power. Behind them was a logo I recognized too well. Lorenzo’s symbol, reborn, rebranded. Marco burst back into the room, eyes wide. “Dante, you need to see this—” “I’m already watching,” I said quietly, my pulse pounding. Vanessa leaned closer to the mic, smiling into the camera. “To my dearest Carina Russo and Dante Vale… thank you for the fire that forged us.”

Without the Master Plate, his authority had dissolved into the noise. ​But there was something else in the mail today. A single, heavy envelope made of 17th-century linen paper. ​I opened it, my heart skipping a beat. Inside was a photograph of the old shop in New York. The steel plates had been removed. The black SUVs were gone. In their place, a small sign had been hung over the door: VANCE & CO. – RESTORATION IN PROGRESS. ​"Moretti bought the lease," I said, handing the photo to Damian.

CHAPTER 98: THE INHERITANCE TAX The vault was thick with the scent of ozone and old money. Silas Vane adjusted his cufflinks, his eyes scanning the Obsidian Statue of Dante with the clinical detachment of an appraiser looking at a foreclosed property. "You always had a flair for the dramatic, Zora," Silas said, his voice a smooth, terrifying baritone. "But this? Turning a Prime-Asset into a paperweight? It’s inefficient. It’s bad for the brand."

That was suspicious. Aveillie never gave up on toys easily. Never. But she was already pointing. “Vanilla. Please.” I studied her for a second, then shrugged. “Fine.” I left the cart by the freezer and reached in, fingers numb from the cold as I grabbed the vanilla tub. It took less than ten seconds. When I turned back, the cart was empty. My heart dropped. “Aveillie?” I called softly. Nothing. I spun around. Panic climbed fast, sharp and ugly.

The music on the huge screen stopped and returned to the karaoke's usual interface. A staff member's voice echoed from beyond the door, asking, "Are you alright, miss?" I looked down at my hands. The wounds on my wrists were still there, but they were swiftly fading away before my very eyes. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Tiffany. "I just had a very long dream, Clara. I dreamed that we were at karaoke, and then I disappeared…" "I had the same dream!" Rosalie exclaimed in her own message. "I also dreamed about that bastard, Seth. How repulsive!"

"No trains." "No roads." Madame Celeste smiled. "They'll realize eventually." "They're too intelligent not to." "And when they do?" Vance stood. His reflection disappeared into the darkness. "They'll head exactly where I want them." Celeste raised an eyebrow. "The Vatican. Vance smiled. "No." He opened an ancient leather folder marked with a seal centuries older than any modern nation. Inside lay two birth certificates. One belonged to Arthur Blackwood. The other— Vivian Vance. Except that wasn't the name written across the original document.

Vani commented and this time I rolled my eyes as she started her praises. “Don’t start praising him, Vani.” Satvi said shaking her head but she continued without listening at all. “I mean there is a chance to think Karthik not loving Leela Di and there is also a chance to think for a second that Kamal doesn’t love me but there is zero chance to think Rohan Jeeju doesn’t love you, Di.” I stared at her with my jaw-dropping after hearing those words. “Hey! You can praise your Jeeju without looking down on my love and don’t forget your husband is with us this time.” Karthik said in a teasing tone.

Pansy, though respectful of Genevieve's wishes, rolled her eyes as she forced the butt of the cigarette against the counter before her, "When did he do it again," Genevieve pulled her eyes away from Pansy's, instead settling her gaze on the thin line of smoke that left the cigarette and curled through the air, slowly suffocating in its final glory, consuming what little moisture remained on the bathroom counter. "He didn't," She shrugged, pursing her lips.

Photos came flying out instead, and I shot a quick look at Parker, who just stood, waiting for me to make sense of the whole situation. I squatted down and picked the first picture that got my attention. “FREE THE COUNTRYSIDE” was painted in red, white, and black over a dirty wall. I picked up the next picture, and the next, and the next, and it was all pictures showing the destruction of several warehouses and properties belonging to members of the table. My hands paused mid-air as I stretched to pick the last picture. I wasn’t sure why my heart leaped, but it was not because I was scared or worried.