Novel & Cerita Violetta Idv

he started with a kind voice, one I was afraid to interrupt. “I heard very shady things about Violet, and she cornered me today. She is hiding something Michael, I just know it,” my voice felt hurried. There were voices behind him, and I heard him hush them. After a few seconds, I heard him again. “I will slap that woman… what did she do?” I chuckled, his comment making me laugh in a moment when I shouldn’t. “I was asking other members what they knew about her, some said they didn’t know anything, then others knew pieces. Her real name is Violetta Russo, and she is supposedly from Russia.”

I stammer, heaving. Please don't, I am nothing special, just Violet, a suicidal woman, a sad pathetic mess, a lying mess, a stupid mess, a mess that is riddles in panic attacks, Celia doesn't have to carry the burden of carrying my name, she is innocent and I will taint her. "I am sorry, Lia, I have to go." I say, getting up, ending the call, then run, I run as fast as I can. I run faster in hopes that I will be able to outrun the fact that I do not want Celia and Blu having my name because I might not be there to watch them grow, it will really suck having a dead woman's name.

Vincent's voice cut Violet's thought short and dragged her out of her reverie. "Huh...?" She shifted her attention to him. When she saw his confused face, she smiled and nodded her head, "Yeah! My name is Violet Rhodes. The CEO of SHAVIO AUTOS AND ELECTRICALS," she removed her business card from her purse and handed it over to him. He also did the same thing.

"Violet, get your ass work and others too." "You don't have an ass." She hung up. "Oh, cold-blooded witch," Conrad mumbled. "Who was Violet?" Johanna asked. Conrad grinned and took a pizza. "She was Victor's ex-girlfriend. Or I should say, ex-fiancee." "Oh," Johanna blinked. "Poor her." "Yes, I know. Both of them were captured and kept in the facility. Violet had a smaller dose because her skills were unknown but that woman is a great deal. Victor had a high IQ, physically strong and good at marksman and combat."

Rafael barely looked up, nursing a glass of scotch in his hand. “We found her,” Dante said. “Who?” Dante opened the folder, flipping to a photo. A stunning woman in a black cocktail dress, sharp eyes and a cruel smile, standing beside a burning SUV. “Isadora Virelli,” Dante said. “The puppet master behind Voss.” Rafael’s grip on his glass tightened. “She’s supposed to be in exile.” “She wasn’t. She was watching. Waiting. Financing Voss. Feeding him information. Setting traps.”

She is in the grave, unable to watch her child grow. Ramon Fridling was the only thing in her mind, Violet was hell bent on killing him, it was another mission of hers, to kill Ramon Fridling because he was the reason why Scarlet died. If Scarlet didn’t marry him, she was going to be alive today, but she isn’t.

Vincenzo's POV “Boss, look at this girl her name is Violet Thomas Philip, I don't know why she's bearing her father's full name but that was what caught my attention, she deplaned 9 hours ago and my men alerted me, she's currently at Rostanios and I've been trying to do some diggings on her but I'm unable to do so because I have been denied access from the server, to be sure she's Thomas daughter we need deeper information about her so we can determine if she's his daughter or they just look alike because if you look closely at her passport she has a striking resemblance to Thomas,” Gio narrated to me briefly and somehow he was good at what he did.

It was Violet. Dressed in a flowing gown that mirrored the moonlit sky, her ebony hair cascaded like a waterfall, framing her delicate features and illuminating eyes the color of twilight. In her presence, a sense of both vulnerability and fierce determination resonated—an echo of her turbulent past and her unwavering spirit.

The steak actually looks quite good. “Vivianne, I want you to go into town. There is someone very important I need you to find.” I look up at Papa and swallow the bite I had just taken. “Of course. Tell me the details.” A folder is placed on the table beside me. I open it slowly. There is no name listed, only a photograph of a woman in her early forties or fifties. She has features that remind me of someone from Egypt. “This woman needs to be brought back to me. She owes me a debt — and your mother, too. I also suspect she may be involved in whatever happened to Nova.”