Her Little Black Book

Her Little Black Book

N Shairah

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Ever wonder what a first kiss can do to a lonely heart? Daniella Anne knows. She knows she want him for herself alone, and she also knew that she never have a place in his heart not more than his best friend. All these time, she always there for him, but this time she decided to run. Run from him, run from their childhood memories, run from everyone who care her more than herself. But, her hide and seek game wasn't long. He found her.

Chapter 0 Author's Note

Hey guys, I am N, a hardcore wattpad reader and now going on making my own story. I have read a lot of amazing stories and amongs my favourite was romance, teenfiction, billionaires, bad boys, bad girls, and a lot more interesting and superb stories I have ever found in this application.

Thinking of making my own book have ever cross my mind ever since I read my first romance, historical story of Royal Blood by 4evahannah. But then, that was two years ago.

I spend almost two years spending my time, reading and searching for a good source of idea therefore my story later on will not be as cliche as you ever read.

So then, I hope, I am not dissappoint you guys, and most hopefully you satisfy with the plot I created. As I mention before, this is my very first story, so I really wish I get your support and comment, they really help me to further finish my story.

And finally, here I presenting you my story, Her Little Black Book, hopefully you enjoy reading, and of course feel free to point any mistake, typos, or even grammar for all I know.

I am a learner and still learning.

Lots of love from afar, NShairah??

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I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

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