Back Rooms Mga Nobela at Kwento

Gloria said. Callie nodded. “Of course.” “We want to do a quick walkthrough of the back offices. Where all the managerial magic happens.” Her stomach did a nervous somersault. “Sure,” Callie said, voice steady. “Follow me.” The back office of BuyMore was not impressive. It was small. Dusty. A little too humid on the left side, thanks to a mystery pipe no one had ever identified. But it had been her workspace for months, even without the official title.

Elias urged me to pack up and take away Aria's and my belongings that day so that he could clear up the rooms for Larissa and her son to move in. Since I had no objections, I immediately followed him back to the house to pack things. After all, I wasn't planning on living in that house again, even if I managed to secure the ownership. When we opened the front door, there was no one in the living room. Then, we heard the sounds of someone moaning coming from Gabriel and Rhonda's room. A soft female voice said flirtatiously, "The plan for Tommy's organ transplant fell through. You need to come up with another plan…"

"Got some good news and bad news for you. Which do you want first?" Theodore let out a cold snort. "What's the bad news?" "Someone hacked into the clinic's system and created a backdoor. Two days ago, your medical records from your visit were stolen." "And the good news?" "The good news is, the hacker only took the records from your last visit when you couldn't… perform. The details about the surgery you had here are still safe."

Her polite, distant tone carried an unspoken warning, as if reminding me that this was the office and our roles were strictly professional. I caught the hidden meaning in her words and forced myself to suppress my emotions. "Good morning, Ms. Thorne," I replied. Beatrice responded with a faint nod. She kept walking, as if I were nothing more than a stranger to her. I smiled bitterly, the words of my resignation hanging in my throat. But then again, she probably wouldn't have cared. Suddenly, my phone lit up. It was a message from my son, Parker Bainbridge, sent via his smartwatch. "Dad, will Mom come back to celebrate my birthday?"

“Federal agents. Open the door.” Reeves exhaled slowly. “If you walk out that back exit, there’s no coming back from it.” I glanced toward the hallway behind the counter. A narrow door. Probably leads to an alley. “You said this becomes bigger,” I said. “It already has.” The agents hit the door harder. “Last warning.” I met his eyes one final time. “Choose,” I said. And stepped toward the back.

“It’s not like you’re going to win. Just show up, that’s all.” Then, with mocking emphasis, he added, “Oh, and bring those three little supermodel babies of yours.” But he forgot to hang up. In the background, his friends jeered, “See? Your wife’s so obedient. Even if you told her to walk into fire, she’d do it!” Natalie’s faint laughter carried through the line. I let out a cold laugh of my own. “We’ll make sure both you and Miss Natalie remember us well.” Backstage at the Supermodel Showdown, Natalie leaned on Jared’s arm and whispered, “I’m still a little nervous about Clarissa…”

I added. The penthouse greeted us with warm lighting and absolute silence. I kicked off my heels by the entryway. Adrian loosened his tie, tossing it on the console. He moved towards the kitchen island. I followed him, reaching for a glass of water. **** That evening, I waited until Adrian was deep in his study, attending to business mails and messages, then I slipped into the private server room off the master bedroom. My fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing the main security layer with the backdoor access Adrian had given me three years ago. He said it was for emergency use only, in case something happens to me.

Even stranger, Maggie hadn’t even deleted the backup, as if she wanted us to see it on purpose. Suddenly, I remembered a glint of reflected light under the passenger seat after practice that day—something like a tiny lens. A chill crept up my spine. I realized then that this carefully designed trap had been laid long ago. But who was behind it? And why were they determined to push us into a corner like this?

"I said, out." After everyone had gone, I stood alone in the empty conference room. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the sun was sinking below the horizon. I walked to my desk and opened the bottom drawer. Inside lay a business card. My father gave it to me before he died. He said, "This is the Moretti family's last resort. Never use it lightly. But if it truly comes to that day..." He didn't finish, but I understood. After a moment's hesitation, I dialed the number.

I say. “Agreed, but it can’t come from us. We can’t have alphas looking our way, songbird,” he warns me. Shit, he is right. “I sense something alive in the back room, but otherwise it’s empty,” he adds. We go to the back together, and Caleb opens the flimsy door. It’s a long room, and the back wall is filled with cages. The cages are all broken and dirty, and it stinks. The doors are all open except for a few at the bottom. I try not to look at the piles of bones and red dust in the open cages as I head to the closed ones.