Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)
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This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Morally Corrupt
(Morally Questionable Book I)
Copyright © Veronica Lancet 2020
CONTENTS
PREFACE
PLAYLIST
CAST OF CHARACTERS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXV
CHAPTER XXXVI
CHAPTER XXXVII
CHAPTER XXXVIII
CHAPTER XXXIX
CHAPTER XL
CHAPTER XLI
CHAPTER XLII
CHAPTER XLIII
CHAPTER XLIV
CHAPTER XLV
CHAPTER XLVI
CHAPTER XLVII
EPILOGUE I
EPILOGUE II
GLOSSARY
AFTERWORD
WHAT’S NEXT?
BOOK II SNEAK PEEK
PREFACE
Dear reader,
Instead of going off popular (media) depictions of sociopaths, Bianca’s character is modeled on the textbook definition for Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD). Like any other disorder, there is a spectrum for ASPD, and Bianca may not exhibit every single trait. That being said, MayoClinic proposes the following definition for ASPD.
Antisocial personality disorder, sometimes called sociopathy, is a mental disorder in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others. People with antisocial personality disorder tend to antagonize, manipulate, or treat others harshly or with callous indifference. They show no guilt or remorse for their behavior.
Individuals with antisocial personality disorder often violate the law, becoming criminals. They may lie, behave violently or impulsively, and have problems with drug and alcohol use. Because of these characteristics, people with this disorder typically can't fulfill responsibilities related to family, work, or school.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: This book deals with abnormal behavior, and as such, it involves: blood(gore), bullying, cannibalism, child abuse, death, drug addiction, guns, graphic violence, graphic sexual situations, kidnapping, light BDSM, murder, prostitution, suicide, rape, serious injury, torture.
Please proceed with care!
PLAYLIST
BTS – Cypher pt. 4
BTS – Fake Love
Fabri Fibra ft. Gianna Nannini - In Italia
Faydee ft. Valderrama – AWAY
Gatilleros ft. Tito - Cosculluela
HOMIE - Эгоист (SL Remix)
Jackson Wang - 100 Ways
Maître Gims - Habibi
MARUV - If You Want Her
MARUV - Siren Song
Minelli x INNA - Discoteka
Miyagi & Andy Panda – Minor
Monatik ft Lida Lee – Добеги
Monsta X ft. French Montana - WHO DO U LOVE?
Morandi – Kalinka
Sexion d'assaut - Désolé
The Pussycat Dolls – React
Trevor Daniel, Selena Gomez - Past Life
Артем Пивоваров – Дежавю
PROLOGUE
20 years ago
"Did he tell you what his homeroom teacher said?" My father smiles at my mother; pride reflected in his gaze.
My father had come to pick me up from school, and my homeroom teacher had informed him that I'd been nominated by four of my teachers to represent the school in the upcoming debate contest.
"What?" My mother was moving around the kitchen, preparing dinner.
"You're looking at the next National Debate Champion." My father seems set on inflating my achievements. I give him a playful shove before shaking my head.
"Don't listen to him. I'm merely going to participate in the competition."
"Congratulations, honey! It's still a big thing! You're going to a national competition."
"And he'll win it too."
"Don't jinx it, dad!" I argue, and he immediately makes a line across his lips with his fingers to suggest he'd shut up. As if!
"Honey, go change your clothes and wash your hands before dinner!"
"Yes, mom!" With one last look at my parents, I dash up the stairs to change into something more comfortable.
My dad always said I was too humble about my achievements, but I didn’t like to be in the spotlight. I'd never tell him, but I get embarrassed when he talks with other parents and starts listing my accomplishments. I understand he's proud, but his approach hasn't made it easier for me at school. It was hard enough being the nerd of the nerds, but when even the parents encouraged their kids to bully the nerd, that was too much. My parents have no idea about it, though. They seem to think that I should be treated like royalty because I have the highest grades in the school. They don't realize it's the exact opposite. I can't even count the number of times I've had to excuse my dirty clothes or my bruises to the fact that I'm accident-prone. They think I'm so clumsy I can't be left on my own.
I sigh as I take off my shirt to reveal the ugly purple spot across my rib cage. Mark, one of the popular kids, had gotten it into his head that I was attempting to steal his girlfriend, Stacy, and he'd decided to teach me a lesson. The rest of the football squad had joined him in delivering that lesson. I wince as I exert myself to put on a casual shirt. The thing is, I'd only ever talked to Stacy once, and she'd been the one to ask me the solution to a homework exercise that everyone was worried about. I don't even like her if I'm honest. So, I don't understand how he'd thought I was hitting on her.
I quickly wash my hands and head downstairs for dinner. I'm at the top of the stairs when I hear my parents talking to a stranger. Not wanting to interrupt, I stop and sit down on the stairs.
"He knows, Michael." The stranger says, and I can hear my dad pacing around.
"I told you to leave it alone, dear. Now what? Do we have to move? He's not going to leave us alone."
"Jimenez can go screw himself. I'm not about to let him win this too. He's already done too much. You know that more than anyone, Paulina..." His voice seems to be
pleading, but my mom interrupts him.
"That's the thing. I know exactly what he's capable of. We need to drop it. We have our son to worry about. What if something happens to us?"
"That's why I called Greg here." There's some paper shuffling, and then my dad continues. "Here's the entire list we compiled. If something happens to us, make this public."
"Are you sure?" The man asks, and I strain to see who exactly it is. My head suddenly bangs on the railing, and the noise alerts them to my presence. Feeling guilty for eavesdropping, I run back to my room and close the door. I hope they won't tell me off.
It's a while later that my mother calls me down to dinner. They don't mention my listening in to their conversation, but they seem tense for some reason. My mother keeps on tugging on the curtain to glance in the driveway.
"Michael..." Her voice is trembling as she says my dad's name.
"You sure?" He asks, and she nods, her mouth slightly open, a frown marring her forehead.
"Honey, me and your dad need to do something in the house for a few hours. Why don't you take your bike and go to Mr. Lawrence, play with his kittens?”
"Mom..." I start protesting. "It's late. I don't think Mr. Lawrence would like that."
"Don't worry about that." She says, pushing the issue. "Come, give me a hug and go." My shoulders droop in defeat, and I hug her. My dad opens his arms too, and I hug him also.
"I'm proud of you, kiddo." He says, his tone defeated.
"Dad?" I ask, something feeling off.
"Go, go, through the back!"
With one last glance behind, I take my bike and ride further into the town to Mr. Lawrence's house. I knock a few times before he answers the door.
"Mom said I could come to hang with the kittens," I say reluctantly, almost afraid he's going to be mad I'm at his door at this hour. He isn't. He shows me to the room where the kittens usually are and tells me to stay as long as I want and to close the door before leaving.
Mr. Lawrence is a friend of my parents’ and a big animal lover. He's always going around rescuing cats or dogs, and over time he's accrued a motley crew of furred friends. The five white kittens are a recent addition, and I've been coming to play with them ever since he's rescued them from a trash bin.
One of them is incredibly cute. I'd named him Spot because he has a tiny black spot on his otherwise white fur, right on top of his head. Spot also seems to have a particular affinity to me because he is the only one who doesn't shy away from me.
At some point, Mr. Lawrence comes to the room and offers me a bag of kitty goods.
I frown.
"What's that for?"
He proceeds to tell me that he'd talked to my parents, and they'd decided to allow me to keep Spot, seeing how we'd bonded and because they felt I was too lonely sometimes. The lonely part strikes a nerve, but excitement for being able to take Spot home overrides that.
"Thank you!" I tell Mr. Lawrence and hug him.
I say goodbye to the others and then put Spot and the supplies on my front basket, smiling at his mewling. Excited about getting Spot acquainted with my room, I pedal my way back to the house.
"Mom! Dad!" I yell as I open the front door, putting Spot on the ground to let him roam around. They don't reply. Weird.
"Mom?" I ask again, and I see Spot head to the kitchen. I smile and follow.
What greets me is a sight that even years later, I will not be able to scrub from my memory. My mom is on a chair at the dinner table, her mouth agape, her eyes wide in wonder. A single hole is at the top of her head, leaking a red liquid between her eyes. I gasp, and my first instinct is to run to her, but as I do, I trip on something and fall.
Raising my eyes, I see Spot licking blood from the floor. My gaze trails further until I see my father, sprawled on the floor in a blood pool.
"Daaa...d?" I whimper, crawling towards him to check for signs of life. I cradle his face in my lap, my trembling hands checking his pulse. There is none.
"No... No..." I shake my head, sobbing out loud. This can't be happening. No...
The police later called it a robbery, but nothing was stolen. When clarity returned, months later, I remembered the conversation with the stranger—the looming threat of Jimenez.
And I've been going after him ever since.
CHAPTER I
Present-day
I adjust the grip on my rifle and start scanning the area. I knew I had to be here earlier than the designated time to do a full swipe for potential dangers. For my spot, I'd chosen a small hotel a few blocks from the port where the meeting was about to take place. I'd scouted the area a few days back and calculated the angles and range to be fully prepared for any outcome. I know my limits.
My shooting skills wouldn't beat any distance records, but I could hold my own against any army trained sniper. I'd been coached by one my entire life. Drew, my bodyguard since I've been a little girl, is ex-military. He's also the father I never had, even though my own is very much still alive. The keyword is still. Drew spent years training me when no one was around to question my activities, and I'd taken my lessons seriously.
As I look around the docks and areas where potential shooters might hide, I hit the jackpot. Two men, at twelve o'clock and eight o'clock, are on their stomachs with their gears ready. The position of their riffles tells me they aren’t even looking for other targets but the one set to arrive... now.
Two black cars pull up in between the shipping containers. Three people get out from the first one: two nasty looking men that appear to be bodyguards and then another shorter man in a tailored suit. That must be Martinez. I know all about this meeting and its purpose, which is why I’m here. You don't do business with a cartel and expect them to honor their safety assurances. Even I know that. Just as I know that the man that steps out of the second car hasn’t even considered the possibility that this could be a setup. He is, after all, buying information from the second in command of a fucking cartel. He's dressed in a sleek shirt and fitted pants that emphasize his physique and make my insides burn even now.
Focus, I tell myself.
The second man, Theo, has a briefcase in his hands. He takes a few steps towards Martinez, and words are being exchanged. I can hear them, but they don't know or need to know that.
Theo opens the suitcase to show rows and rows of cash, to which Martinez removes a flash drive from his jacket. It's all about to go down. I quickly turn to the other men and note their tense positions. They are about to shoot.
My finger squeezes the trigger with practiced speed. Once, twice. They drop dead. The shots have alerted the others to the presence of another sniper. The bodyguards are now in shooting position, and I know that the next few seconds are invaluable. Target set and target down. I manage to get one of the bodyguards, and I'm glad to see Theo seek cover. I don't care about the other bodyguard, but Martinez won't make it alive. He dared to threaten Theo's life, and that makes him a dead man.
I take a few breaths and scan my surroundings. He hid, that motherfucker. Knowing he must have taken refuge behind the car; I take a couple of random shots to draw him out in the open. He must have taken the bait because he starts running towards one of the containers to his right, all the while ignoring his bodyguard's warnings. I don't hesitate, putting a bullet right through his skull—a kill shot.
I breathe out, relieved. Screeching car tires alert me to Theo driving away.
Yes, run!
Pulling myself to my knees, I start taking apart my riffle and storing it in the violin case I use as cover. Quickly, I hurry from the roof and into the staircase where I change into my disguise. I put on the wig, an elegant bob with straight bangs. I add a pair of spectacles and fake braces. Then I take off my blazer to reveal the high school uniform to one of the schools in the area. No one would question my guise. In this outfit, I now look completely underage. Taking my violin case, I exit the hotel and hail a cab.
I stop at Chinatown and walk around for half an hour before tak
ing another cab to Midtown, where I've left my car. Once I’m behind the wheel, I quickly shed my disguise and go to my spare apartment to deposit all of the materials. Not lingering more than necessary, I then hop in my car once again, going home.
The moment I'm inside the penthouse, a voice greets me.
"Darling?"
"Yes," I answer and turn to see my husband walking towards me with a strange expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" I ask, as he takes me into his arms and holds me as if there’s no tomorrow.
"Just glad to see you." He whispers in my hair, kissing my forehead, eyes, nose, and finally lips. He looks haggard, as if he's just been through a harrowing experience.
"What?" I manage in between kisses.
"I missed you." He says.
"Oh, Theo! I love you!" I squeeze him to my chest, knowing exactly what prompted his display of affection.
"I love you too, dear." he murmurs, taking me to our bedroom and proceeding to make sweet love to me.
I can tell that Theo’s shaken up by what happened. He's always been uptight and unyielding when it comes to crime and violence. That's why he must never know. My husband must never know the things I do to make sure he is safe.
Never.
"You look amazing" I’m looking in the mirror, adjusting the ribbon at my shirt's neckline. Theo comes from behind, fitting himself to my back and making me shiver. I smile at the interruption and tip my head to kiss him.
"You too." I take in his appearance. He's always been handsome, but he is most attractive when he looks at me with love in his eyes because I know he is mine. His short dark brown hair has the silkiest texture I've ever felt, and I take every opportunity to run my hands through it. But it’s his eyes that made me forget myself all those years ago. Not quite brown, not quite green, they sparkle with warmth and intelligence. He's now dressed for the office, in a dark blue suit and a white dress shirt.