Victoria Vance Novels & Stories

So I crept around the village, darting from tree to tree and glancing into every house. At long last, through a kitchen window, there she was. Jessica Michaels. She stood at the sink, washing the dishes as her parents sat in the next room. I picked up a stick and threw it at the window, hoping to catch her attention. Her eyes snapped to the forest as she froze. She glanced through the door to where her parents sat. They hadn’t heard, and I prayed she wouldn’t call them. And the Goddesses listened. She grabbed a towel, dried her hands, and shut the door from the kitchen to the living room. She slid the back door and stepped gingerly onto the porch.

And the most cataclysmic thing was, I was not afraid of having witness Madeline's murder. Yes it left an impact on me, I still shivered whenever her dead lifeless eyes drifted in my vision but.. I was more scared of Marienne. As soon as the the police enquiry session had come to an end, I ran straight to my flat, brought out my laptop and tried to find as much as information I could manage about them. And what I found about them wasn't shocking but still, it chilled me to the core. Marienne Carlisle Victor. A French-American businessman, who is best known for his ruthless statistics and strategies in the corporate world. Devilishly handsome looking but taken from at the age of 19. Well known

What in heavens is going on here? The lady slowly walks over to me with a devious smirk on her face. She stands before me and places her index finger against my chin, tilting my head to look at her. " Hello, my name is Victoria," she says with a very beautiful silk voice and I can tell she must be the most beautiful lady I have ever seen in my life. I can't deny that fact. She is extremely gorgeous. Perhaps that is what Damien saw when he felt she was far preferred as Mrs. Vance than me.

"A coworker of mine today—Victoria Vance—tried to claim that I was a kept woman. She told the entire floor that some midtown billionaire was funding Julian’s showcases just to keep his favorite creative asset entertained." The temperature in the glass terrace instantly plummeted to absolute zero. My fingers froze against the stem of my glass, the primitive, violent instinct of the Volkov network flaring behind my eyes like a sudden lightning strike. A dark, freezing rage flooded my chest, my jaw locking so hard the muscle leaped beneath my skin. Victoria Vance. A minor variable in a secondary branch of a fashion family. To utter

🌹 Victoria 🌹 Victoria Fontaine stood in the dimly lit war room of her private estate, the scent of expensive bourbon and aged leather filling the air. The walls, lined with bookshelves and surveillance monitors, cast eerie flickers of light against her sharp, composed features. Despite the chaos unraveling outside, she remained poised. The world was beginning to turn against her, but she had not built an empire on panic. She had built it on control.

I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Victoria leaned back, sipping her wine. “Baby girl, those idiots you call ‘followers’ are nothing as compared to people like us. If you want to be Vance’s daughter-in-law… if you still want my brother…” she paused, letting the words sting, “…this is your moment. I am giving you a stage. The Vance princess is offering you a spark. All you have to do is burn like fucking hell. Do what you do best, sweetheart and let them fall for it”

VICTORIA Victoria pushes the laptop on her desk further away from her, getting up from her chair in anger, not being able to concentrate on any of the work she is supposed to do, neither being able to sign any of the contracts that had come in for her early that morning. The tabs were bothering her; with everything she had done, she still wasn’t the top business macho in New York. She had done everything she could possibly do, involved herself in shady things and yet she wasn’t the best, and yet someone who hadn’t gone through half of what she had gone through always managed to top her on the list every single year; Nicholas Bennett.

"An offshore platform. That makes it a fortress. Who runs the North American sector?" ​"Victoria Vance," Lyra said, tapping the screen to pull up an encrypted personnel dossier. "Charles Vance’s older sister. A former logistics architect for the Defense Threat Reduction Agency. If Charles was the blade of the family, Victoria is the concrete. She specializes in deep-sea containment and structural fortification." ​"She’ll know her brother's node fell the moment the financial routing cut off," Julian noted, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register. "She won't be waiting for us to knock on the front door."

--- At the end of the night, Daniel took the stage. The room fell silent. The music faded. Daniel stood at the podium, his hands gripping the edges, his face flushed with emotion. "Thank you all for coming," Daniel said. "Tonight, we've raised over two million dollars for the Vance Foundation's trauma recovery program." The crowd applauded. Glasses were raised. Smiles spread across the room. "But none of this would have been possible without one person," Daniel continued. "Emma Vance." Emma's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Go with Vance. Drop the statement. Keep it simple, keep it legal, and don't tell them a damn thing." The man nodded, his face blank. "Yes, boss." With that, he turned and walked toward the police line. Victoria wiped a thick layer of gray dust off her outfit, her chest tightening as she looked back at the smoking ruins of Aces and Ales. Her fingers curled into tight fists. She gritted her teeth, the fury boiling right behind her eyes. When she found out who was responsible for this mess, when she found the person who dared to touch her property and her people, she was going to dismantle them piece by piece.