Vic Fuentes Young Novels & Stories

Just lifted his glass and sipped his drink, calm as ever—like this was just another business deal, another corpse he’d stepped over on his way to power. Back when Yuri and I were together, I’d asked him what family he belonged to. He refused to answer. I should’ve known then. Should’ve walked away. I only learned the truth weeks ago, when I returned to Colombia for his funeral. That he was Vargas. That I had unknowingly dated one of the sons of one of the deadliest cartels in Bogotá. “It was business,” he said flatly. “Stepan got careless. I did what needed to be done.”

“A Russian woman, Jera Young turned herself into the Philippines National Police admitting that she was the mastermind behind the death of Kendra Vidal three years ago, the daughter of the billionaire tycoon Kendrick Vidal. If we will remember, the news shocked the entire country as the woman died thru an explosive tied to her body, and none of her body has been recovered. Finally, justice will be served for her death as Jera Young disclosed the crime, and will fully take responsibility for it.” I still can’t believe that she turned herself in, probably the reason why she withdraw her candidacy for Presidency. “J-Jera Young?” I was taken aback when Trinity speaks. I know the news startled he

Ray only smiled at this and decided to completely trust Alicia. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Have you heard about Chase Fuentes?” “Named as a billionaire at only 25 years old. He hasn’t inherited FuenTECH yet, if he did, that would make him multi-billionaire doesn’t he?” “Which family do you think will start leeching off of him?” “If anyone could actually leech, then I would give congratulations to how brave they are with that decision. Remember, he isn’t just any brat, he’s the son of that Gabriel Fuentes.”

“Holy fuck. Seriously? No way.” Vicente says with a smile on his face as he looks to Luis for confirmation. Luis smiles and nods to him. “You are a legend. Dude do you even know who this lady is?” “Of course, I do.” Luis says and he winks to Veronica. “I’m already impressed. Sorry didn’t mean to cut you off but I got a little starry eyed.” Veronica chuckles and says “It’s okay really. So, I have been doing deep dives into both my mafia family and the cartel. We were coming back to deal with an issue with my mafia family. Actually, Hector, would you grab those 7 files please?”

Modern furniture in the shade of crimson stood in the center. I didn’t have time to explore any other differences and I continued my journey down the hallway. When I saw the name plaque that said, ‘Alpha Remy Marcel Boudreaux,’ I didn’t even bother knocking. I stood in front of it for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what I was going to say to him. After all, I was angry. His parents had murdered mine. For what? I didn’t even know. I wanted answers.

Maybe she would still be alive. I missed her so much it hurt. I sat next to Dad for a moment, and then I stood up, and while I was leaving, I heard the news playing from the TV. I turned back. ”Victor was on the screen. He looked different now. Thirty-four years old. More powerful. He was one of the youngest and most successful CEOs in the World. I had once dreamed of working in his firm before I had to drop out of school to help Dad run the shop.

"Tell me what you really think about the Cruz boy." Alejandro sat in the dim light of the Vargas Grand Casino executive suite, his eyes fixed on the digital dossier of Sofia Ramirez. She was twenty-two when the desert claimed her. A overdose, the report said. Tragic. Common. But the deeper he dug into the data, the more the narrative fractured. Sofia had been a ghost in the system, a foster kid with no paper trail until she hit the city—and she had listed Victor Cruz as her sole emergency contact.

"We found a lead. An offshore account linked to Victor. Funds were withdrawn last week. We tracked the recipient." "Who?" "His son," Harris said. "Matteo Russo. 20 years old. Born in Switzerland. Mother unknown." I exhaled slowly. "So he’s real." "Very real," Harris said. "Victor's been setting this up for years. Matteo’s account received half a million dollars three days ago." "For what?" "Unknown," Harris said. "But I don’t like it." "Find him," I said. "We’re trying. But Leonardo...Victor might be dead, but Matteo has resources. We’re talking high-level encryption, professional operatives. This kid didn’t just inherit money. He inherited a network."

“What does he want? Normally he sends one of his soldiers with a letter or flowers or something. Why did he send you?” “How do you know who I am?” Fernando asked. He had hoped this was going to be easy. “My mom wasn’t stupid. When she realized who he was, she made sure to learn. In fact, I think she forced him to tell her everything, so she told me. You’re a very popular guy. Fernando Franco , one of the youngest capos ever, and you have a reputation for torture and fear. I would offer you congratulations, but I heard how you rose through the ranks, so I will say, my apologies on the loss of your parents and family.” She gave a head bow.

And when I did—when I had proof of every lie, every betrayal—Elianna wouldn’t just regret deceiving me. She’d beg to take it all back. An hour later, my phone buzzed. I had been pacing my office, replaying every interaction I’d ever had with Elianna, every moment I had let her whisper in my ear and twist my reality. I grabbed the phone, pressing it to my ear without a word. "We have a name." I stilled. "Go on." "Victor Vasquez. Twenty-eight. Low-level but well-connected. He’s been running illegal errands for different mafias—clean-ups, deliveries, covering tracks. Smart enough to keep his head down, but dirty enough to know where the bodies are buried."