Novels by Flimxy Victor

13: Blood on the RooftopThe helicopter blades tear the night apart as we rise above the city, Marcus at the controls, two of his best men strapped in beside me. Bella sits across from me, white-knuckled on the seat, bulletproof vest swallowing her frame. She wouldn’t stay behind. I didn’t waste time arguing.Fifty-eight minutes to deadline.We land on the Lockwood Tower helipad hard enough to rattle teeth. The same rooftop where Ethan and I used to smoke cigars and plan world domination when we were kids.Now it’s a killing ground.Wind whips across the concrete. Floodlights are off. Only the red aircraft warning lights pulse every few seconds.I step out first, pistol in one hand, the other reaching back for Bella. She takes it without hesitation.Marcus and his team fan out, suppressed rifles up, moving like ghosts.Then the lights snap on.Blinding white floods the entire roof.Ethan stands dead center, thirty yards away.He’s thinner than I remember, prison pallor, but the smirk

Chapter 12: The PackageThe message sits on my phone screen like a live grenade.She’s very pretty.It would be terrible if something happened to her.The photo is crystal-clear: Bella asleep on my chest, my arm locked around her, the penthouse terrace lights soft in the background. Taken less than ten minutes ago. Someone was close enough to zoom in through the glass.My blood turns to ice.I’m out of bed in a heartbeat, careful not to wake her. I pull on jeans and a black hoodie, grab the pistol from the nightstand safe, and move silently to the windows. Forty-eight floors up. No balcony access from below. No adjacent buildings tall enough. The only way that shot was possible is a drone. High-end. Military-grade lens.I kill every light in the penthouse with the master switch by the door. The whole place drops into darkness except for the city glow.Bella stirs behind me. “Damian?”“Stay in bed,” I say, voice low but sharp. “Don’t turn on any lights.”I hear her sit up. “What’s happ

Chapter 11: The First CrackThe elevator ride back to the penthouse was silent except for the soft hum of machinery. Bella’s hand stayed in mine, our fingers laced tight, as if she was afraid I’d vanish if she let go. I kept stealing glances at her. My shirt swallowed her frame, her legs were bare, and her hair was messy from my hands. She looked like she belonged to me.Because she did.The doors slid open and we stepped into the living room. The city sparkled forty-eight floors below, but the warmth we had an hour ago was gone. Vanessa’s poison was already seeping in.Bella finally spoke, her voice small. "She’s not going to stop, is she?""No," I answered honestly. "She’s never known when to quit. And right now, she’s desperate."She walked to the windows, wrapping her arms around herself. "The things people are already saying online… gold digger, mistress, charity case. They don’t even know my name, and they hate me."I crossed the room in four strides and pulled her back against

Chapter 10: The Ex Who Refused to Stay BuriedThe next morning hits like a bomb.I wake up with Bella draped across my chest, her hair fanned over my shoulder, one leg hooked over mine. Sunlight pours through the windows, turning the room gold. For about ten seconds everything is perfect.Then my phone, the real one, on the nightstand, starts vibrating so hard it nearly falls off.I reach over and silence it without looking. Thirty seven missed calls. Ninety one new messages. The headlines are already screaming across every screen in the country.LOCKWOOD HEIR RISES FROM THE DEAD, TAKES EMPIRE BACK IN BLOODLESS COUPVANESSA SINCLAIR’S FIANCÉ RETURNS, AND HE’S SINGLEWHO IS THE MYSTERY WOMAN SEEN LEAVING WITH DAMIAN LOCKWOOD?That last one has a blurry paparazzi shot of me carrying Bella out of the old house yesterday. Her face is half hidden against my neck, but it’s unmistakably her.Bella stirs, blinks up at me. “What’s that noise?”“Welcome to my life now,” I mutter.She sits up, s

Chapter 9: The PenthouseThe elevator opens straight into the living room, and Bella’s breath catches loud enough for me to hear.Floor to ceiling windows wrap the entire penthouse. The city spreads out below us like someone spilled diamonds across black velvet. It’s dusk now, the skyline just starting to glow.She steps out slowly, barefoot on the heated marble, duffel still hanging from her shoulder like she forgot it’s there.“This… is yours?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.“Ours,” I correct.She turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. The seventy foot living room, the floating staircase, the kitchen bigger than her old house. Everything is sleek lines and warm woods, quiet luxury that doesn’t scream money, just states it like fact.I watch her face the whole time. The awe. The disbelief. The tiny flicker of fear that this might still be a dream she’s about to wake up from.I drop my keys into the bowl by the door, solid onyx, custom, and shrug out of the suit jacket.“Y

Chapter 8: HomecomingThe drive to the old neighborhood feels both endless and too quick.The city blurs past, skyscrapers giving way to strip malls, then to the familiar cracked sidewalks and sagging chain link fences. Every turn is muscle memory, but I’m seeing it all through new eyes now. The blacked out Maybach sticks out like a spaceship among the beat up sedans and minivans. People on porches stop and stare. A couple kids on bikes follow us for three blocks before the driver loses them.Marcus is in the front passenger seat, quiet. He knows what this means to me.We pull up in front of the house at 10:47 a.m.The lawn’s still patchy from where I mowed it four days ago. Claudia’s ancient Buick is in the driveway. Sophia’s pink Mustang is crooked across two spaces like always.I step out before the driver can open the door.The street goes still. Mrs. Alvarez next door drops her watering can. A dog starts barking somewhere down the block.I don’t knock.I just open the front door