Beck Oliver Novels & Stories

Calvin's expression tightened, but the words kept spilling out before he could stop himself. "Uncle Roger, haven't you noticed? Oliver looks nothing like you. "He has a low nose bridge, and the mole on his chin… The longer you look, the more he looks like Mark Weber, the driver you fired eight years ago. "Oliver's illegitimate! Aunt Sierra had him with the driver! She even bribed a doctor to pass him off as yours. Damn! You really got played."

I asked Wilson as he followed my gaze outside “Yeah Ollie he is” He replied smiling “God!!!!” I whispered under my breath “Oliver look at me …… You don’t have to talk to him tonight.” Wilson whispered holding my jaw to look at him “I want to….. he came all the way here…” “…the least I can do is hear what he has to say.” I said to Wilson somewhat hesitant “Come on then Ollie” I followed Wilson towards the exit….Russell Every step toward the door made my heart pound harder.

"He actually sent his own father to prison. He ruined his own life to give us an answer." Scarlett walked over to the front door. She unlocked the heavy deadbolt. She pulled the door wide open. She looked at Oliver. She gave a small, gentle smile. "He is not like the other rich bloodsuckers. He is different. Go get your man, Oliver." Oliver did not wait one single second. He ran out the door. He ran down the street and jumped into a yellow taxi. "The Ice Arena!" Oliver yelled.

Hearing Oluwole’s voice strangely pacified the once angry Charles. “Maybe having a little chat with the young lad would proffer a solution to this issue bugging me.” Charles thought to himself. “How old are you Oluwole?” asked Charles. “I am 10 years old Sir.” Now that Oluwole was in good health he wanted to talk with him. He took it as something to distract himself from the present situation with the authorities. Charles had been watching the A.I.T (African Independent Television) news broadcast on his smart, flat screen TV. It was via the news that he heard of the arrest of his men. He stood up from the couch he was sitting on and fetched the remote control in an attempt to put off the TV.

Who does he think he is? “I’ll let you go after you tell me what you need.” He says very calmly as if he wasn’t holding his boss’s daughter against her will. “I have nothing to tell you. This is between me and my dad, it’s none of your business.” I say angrily. “Everything related to you is my business, doll.” He says with a smile. “Stop calling me doll. My name is Olivia.” I mutter. “I know. But you remind me of a doll with your big beautiful blue eyes and porcelain skin.”

"Oliver told me about that girl you've been seeing, the pretty brunette who looks a lot like me." Is Oliver blind?! Seeing Bex again is tearing a hole into my being. I don't want her here. I hate her. I just want her gone. Forever. "The fact that you're still talking to Oliver is all I need to know about you," I reply in a low tone, now angry.

“Yeah, it’s sad that she uses her gift in such a selfish way. I’m just glad I don’t drink. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop.” “More of a man than me, I’d say.” Oliver’s face lit up with a sudden idea. He reached out his hand to James. “Let’s start over, shall we? Oliver Burton of London.” James chuckled softly. “James Olympia of . . . Albuquerque, New Mexico.” “I see the possibility of a good friendship in our future.” “Yeah.” He nodded. “Me too.”

Oliver looked at Logan and nodded his head as a greeting and then at Jake, who was an unknown face, then at Joanna, who bowed her head, looking at him after all he was marked and mated with the queen, and then at Bruce. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?” He couldn’t help but ask. Bruce didn’t know what to say. If he would lie, he might get caught. But thanks to Calvin, who answered instead of him. “Uncle Oliver,” He said, rubbing his eyes. “Good Morning.” “Good Morning, Dear.” “My name, Uncle?” Calvin asked, arching his brow just like Colton. “Umm… Colton?” Oliver guessed but seeing his nephew's sad face; he realized that he was wrong. “Calvin.”

“And there’s more. Pictures of me. Of my mom. From years ago. You’ve been watching me. Before you ever moved in. Before you ever spoke to me.” His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. My voice shakes, but I press on. “You knew me, Oliver. Before I ever knew you. You didn’t just show up in my life. You inserted yourself into it.” Still nothing. I step forward. “Who is he?” Oliver swallows. Then: “That man in the photo...” He takes a shaky breath. “That’s my father.” The world goes still. I blink. He lowers his gaze to the floor. “His name was Lawrence Maddox. He was a businessman. Wealthy. Polished. Charismatic. Everyone loved him.” A bitter smile touches his lips, then vanishes. “Ex

The twenty girls from the community which were selected by Obidiya and Ugo had joined the eighty girls in the tent, to Oliver's surprise, his sister was not in the group. “Serves her right.” He chuckled, and walked with the family to the tent. “Is Oliver related to Beck?” A woman from the villagers' section asked when she saw him putting on the funeral clothes. “Who is Oliver?” Shane's mother asked. “Oliver, the son of Bertram the topper.” “Hiss. That fool? He allowed himself to be used for nothing.” “For nothing? He is putting on the funeral clothes.” The first woman pointed out.