Widow Of The South Book Novels & Stories

"His car... It swerved to avoid a big truck driving the wrong way down the road... It smashed through the guardrail and rolled down the cliffside... It caught fire and exploded... Mr. Adrian... He didn't make it out…" I could no longer hear what Cyrus said after that. My entire body gave out, and I collapsed to the floor. So… even though I'd been given a second chance at life, I still couldn't change a thing. Even after giving it everything I had, I still couldn't defy fate. In the end, he had still died. News of Adrian's death soon became a trending topic. Some sighed, others pitied him, but even more people shifted their focus to Rowan, who had instantly become the sole heir.

I hang up without waiting for a farewell, tossing the phone back onto the desk. My jaw clenches as I pace back toward the window. Violetta survived. She didn't fold under the compressed timeline, and she didn't run crying out of the building. The quiet, fragile woman who used to sit silently at the end of my dining table, nodding along to whatever my lawyers dictated, is completely gone. She is fighting back, using the very skills I allowed her to cultivate during our marriage. I reach down and press the speed dial for Gideon. He answers instantly.

"Something's on fire in the south side of the city. The flames are lighting up half the sky." A sudden sense of unease gripped Luca. The house he shared with me was in the south. At that moment, the butler rushed in through the side door, his face pale. "Don Salvatore, something's wrong! Your villa in the south. It's on fire! The flames are too strong and can't be contained at all!" Luca felt like the blood in his veins had frozen. He grabbed the butler by the collar. "Where's my wife? Where's Xandra? Was she rescued?"

She said as he handed over Victoria’s picture to him. “It seems like lately Ian has taken some interest in this woman. Her name is Victoria Howler. She is the widow of Wilfred Howler. Initially I thought their relationship is strictly business but rumors and pictures have been circulating lately that indicate otherwise.” She explained. Cedric raised his brow, still not getting his sister’s plan. “Okay, so what are you thinking of?” He asked.

He was letting me drown in this silence, a punishment for the five days I had squandered. "The North is a region of ghosts and myths," I continued, my voice hardening as I shifted into the lie we had constructed. "Marie... the woman I once called wife... has proven herself to be a part of that darkness. She has chosen the exile of the mountains over the glory of the South. I have seen the truth of her heart, and I have found it wanting. She is no longer a daughter of the South. She is a name stricken from our records, a phantom we shall no longer chase."

Domenik moved—closer, never touching, but every inch of him a barrier. “She’s not leaving with you.” The Widow tilted her head. “I never asked her to.” She leaned in, low enough for only Eirwen to hear: “Find me when you’re tired of letting men decide your price.” Then, louder, almost bored: “Run.” A crack split the stairwell. Gas hissed again. The Widow turned and was gone—slipping into the storm, a ghost made real by reputation alone. Chaos crashed back in. Boots. Orders. Guns primed for war.

“Our money… Mary. When we got married, we became one, which means your money became mine and mine became yours. So you bought them with our money, and my new wife gets them now.” She laughed. Oh! She had been a fool. What had she been thinking when she picked a wretched grape farmer boy and dusted him, dressed him to become a CEO of a company she had sold almost half her soul to build? What had she expected? She looked into the mirror and winced. Who was this haggard old woman that stared back at her? How had she been reduced to this? How? “I have transferred all your assets and cars to Selena. It's right that she has them all since you made her lose the most precious thing in her life. The

Somehow, we had to push him back, force him to retreat, and keep him confined to his own territory. With dread pooling in my stomach, I opened the letter that had arrived in a plain, ominous envelope. The words on the page sent a chill through me: —- “Dear Over Privileged Fools of the North, I recently heard of your underhanded deal—securing the South through a forced marriage. Poor, powerless Vladislav; it’s almost laughable. I never thought the three of you had it in you to rob a defenseless woman, but here we are. I guess I underestimated your cunning. It’s a move I’d expect from someone like me, but you? I’m impressed.

She knew the secret Victoria was still carrying—the belief that Daniel was the father. “The ‘Perfect Wife’ is about to become the ‘Widow of a Living Man’,” Sophie murmured, her fingers flying across the keyboard to finalize the ‘Gala Massacre’ press kit. “And Daniel Sy is about to find out that you can’t build a dynasty on a foundation of stolen blood.” The debt was five years long. And tonight, in the quiet, expensive halls of the hospital, Zander Blackwood was finally starting to collect.

Losing both would be a living hell for her. Lynne nodded and replied, “That’s fair. Everything she owns comes from our family. It’s only right that we take them back. “Come back with me. After what happened today, I can’t stand the thought of you being out here on your own.” I looked up at Lynne, her slender frame somehow giving me strength. “I’ll go home with you, Lynne.” On the bright side, Lady Luck smiled down on me. At least, I had the support of family when I faced the betrayal of love. I was able to find strength during these trying times. Perhaps that was the power of blood ties.