Vanna Grace Novels & Stories

She turned, and gripped Genevieve's arm, steering her into a store with a fake smile, so warm and dripping with affection that one would have actually picked emotion from the gaze. "Mona," A woman greeted her with a stretched smile before she extended her arms up and gripped Mona on the shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You're still looking young I see. What's your secret?" The woman jokingly asked, admiring the radiance of the woman as her eyes sparkled in the rich lighting. It was piteous. The smile of youth was expensive and safeguarded by a thick mask of daily serums. The 'secret' was tedious and hardly glamorous. The 'secret' bore inconsistencies on the skin of both her arms and

Elena POV Vanessa was crying and I'd never seen anything like it before, never seen someone break down so completely, and tears were streaming down her face while her whole body shook with sobs. "I just wanted to finish our work," Vanessa said and her voice was broken and raw. "Everything I did, all of it, I just wanted to make her proud." She was talking about Grace. After forty years she was still trying to make a dead woman proud. I watched from where I was still strapped to the table and I felt something strange twist in my chest because this was the woman who'd tried to experiment on my babies, who'd murdered Grace and probably Sophia too, who'd ruined so many lives.

Every step she took in her heels radiated quiet strength. Reporters hadn’t been informed of her identity ahead of time—just that someone tied to the Élan G scandal would be appearing at this hour and place. That was reason enough not to miss it. Then came whispers: Isn’t she the Bellavance heiress? Escorted safely to center stage, Grace stood tall and steady. Her presence was cool, composed, and commanding—exactly as rehearsed. "I'm Grace Bellavance. For the past three years, I've served as the lead creative force behind Élan G—anonymously until now..."

It had been a long time since Kennedy visited the facility. He arrived with Griffin at the function hall where many agents were practicing. Griffin suddenly exclaimed, catching Kennedy’s attention. "That's the woman!" Griffin shouted. He pointed to Johanna, who was busy chatting with her brother and doing nothing but pulling pranks. "That's the woman who attacked us during the war." Kennedy furrowed his brow and recognized Johanna as the CEO of the Golden Age. However, he already knew she was Hannah Grace. She was surprisingly beautiful without the dark makeup she used to use to intimidate everyone.

I pulled up my laptop, searched for news about GRACE's IPO. The offering was scheduled for six weeks from now. Projected valuation of two billion dollars. Grace would personally net over a billion from the sale. All of it built on the narrative that she was a survivor, a feminist icon, a mother protecting her children from the men who'd wronged her.

She weighs nothing for him. Grace crossed her path with them in hallway. "Get a room you guys..." She rolled her eyes at them. "Yeah, just about to do that..." Vlad smirked. Grace smiled at Vera. "Have fun!" She winked. "What are you wearing?" Vlad frowned at her. Grace looked at herself. "Booty shorts and crop top..." She shrugged. Vera suppressed her smile at her reply, she was practically half naked with her crop top hiding nothing and her half of the ass was on display.

Within it shimmered a faint pulse rhythmic, like a heartbeat. The inscription read: PROJECT GENESIS – ACCESS RESTRICTED. Victor knelt, brushing away layers of dust. “Your mother’s signature is here… but look another name.” He hesitated. “Grace Vance.” Adanna froze. That name she’d seen it before, buried deep in corrupted data fragments. Her heart quickened. “Grace Vance,” she whispered. “She was… the one who began all this.” Victor’s eyes met hers. “The woman from the myth the one who vanished after the digital revolution.”

“Move aside. I’m bringing the suitcases in.” Old and sick, Nazi could not find her voice. Tears simply streamed down her face, and she made a few pitiful sounds. Sara approached her and wanted to hug her, but she smelled urine and only gave her a light embrace. From the other room came the creaking sound of a wheelchair, and a very thin, yellowish-looking Vahe rolled out. He recognized his sister and niece, or rather, he guessed by instinct who they were, because no one dressed so beautifully ever came to visit them. But Vahe could not speak, and he expressed his happiness only through strange sounds.

"Your mother?" "Frances Delgado," Vanessa said, and the name landed in the room like a stone dropped into still water. "She has sat on this board for thirty one years. She is also, though almost no one alive still knows it, Grace's daughter." Alexander's grip on my hand went slack with shock. "Frances is Grace's daughter," he repeated slowly, as though saying it aloud might make it easier to believe. "Then that would make her my grandfather's." "Yes," Vanessa said softly. "It would make her your father's half sister. Your aunt, Alexander. A woman who has spent three decades voting on this company's future while hiding exactly why she cared so much about protecting it."

I wanted to ask what she meant, wanted to demand the full story behind that particular venom, but some instinct told me pressing would only feed whatever hunger drove her here in the first place. “You should leave,” I said instead. “Grace’s clients don’t wait on your convenience.” Something sharp crossed her face, gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same practiced sweetness she’d walked in wearing. “Of course. I only stopped by to offer some friendly advice, woman to woman.” “We’re not friends.” “No.” Vanessa’s eyes swept over the half-finished gown, something calculating behind them. “But we might be sisters in grief someday, if you’re not careful. Enjoy the gala, Evelyn. I hea