Bill Cipher Novels & Stories

Adriana sat at her sleek office desk, her red nails tapping against her laptop keyboard. The screen glowed with fake financial documents—transactions, emails, and spreadsheets all carefully crafted to ruin Leon. She smirked as she clicked *send*, leaking the files to every major news outlet. By morning, the world would believe Leon had stolen millions from his own company. Just like old times, she thought. --- Five Years Earlier Adriana opened her diary, the leather cover soft under her fingers. She wrote in bold, slanted letters:

doctor bill said and flashed the check at him, “you just got paid for assisting Daniel with his mathematics homework. This is check for half a million dollars. Brian raised a thick brow, “When did I assist him with his Mathematics home work?” “Oh yeah you did. Can’t you remember? You did,” Doctor Bill said emphatically. Brian tapped his head, stroked it shrugged as he couldn’t recall, “Well, if you say so, can you please use that money to buy me guitar, pair of boot and leather jackets.”

Bill replied. Cassandra didn't look surprised, "Hm, it's even stranger that you suddenly have them in such a short time. But, who is that man? Doesn't he mind their things be borrowed?" "A friend. No, he doesn't. He's so rich that what I borrowed doesn't even need to be returned," Bill said. In fact, it was all bought with Bill's own money, all from his hard-earned money as a War General that he had never touched before.

And right now, she wanted Elena to pay. “Who do you know that can handle it cleanly?” I asked, cutting to the point. Monica hesitated. “That’s the problem. I don’t trust anyone enough to do it right. We can’t afford mistakes.” That’s when it hit me. “I know someone.” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, landing on a name I hadn’t needed in years—Bill. Bill and I went way back, to high school. He was the type of guy you called when you needed something handled off the record. No questions, no mess. Just results.

I open my purse and fish out a hundred dollar bill. -"Buy some food for this little dog, please" I ask, pointing with my finger. -"Yes, ma'am," he mumbles, confused, but doesn't question it, he was probably instructed not to. I hand him the card and enter the building without further ado. Even though I'm warmed by my clothes, I still feel cold and I can't help but think about how the poor dog feels.

Once out of the room, he placed a call to an unknown person. “Is it ready?” He asked into the phone “Yes sir!” “Go ahead and plant it” he commanded, “and also plan B and C, are a go ” “Okay!” And the call went dead. He placed a second call. “Mitchelle, meet me at bluebox, there's been a change of plans!” He said. “You'd regret this” he said under his breath.

"May I come in." Not a question. Bain stepped back. Rhys walked in and looked around the flat once — the stack of unopened letters on the table, the glass from last night still on the counter, the general atmosphere of a man who had been managing badly for a long time — and said nothing about any of it. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands still in his pockets and simply waited. "Tea," Bain said. "No." Bain put the kettle on anyway. He needed something to do with his hands and his mind was already running numbers — the kind of rapid, ugly calculation he was very good at when money was on one side of the equation and people were on the other.

I asked shakily in the doctor's office. There was a brief silence. "Approximately three hundred and fifty thousand dollars." My breath caught. "$350,000?" "Yes. We need the payment authorization as soon as possible." My hand trembled. "I'll find a way." The call ended. Without wasting another second, I rushed home. I needed to speak to David. He would help. At least, that was what I believed. As I approached his father's study, voices drifted through the partially opened door. I stopped.

Wayne pulled out a folded sheet of A4 paper and slapped it grandly onto my desk. My face flushed with excitement. I unfolded the paper, only to feel my heart sink slowly. This was no gift—it was clearly a bill! Rent was 60 thousand dollars, shared utilities were five thousand dollars, and the management fee was two thousand dollars, making the total 70 thousand dollars. Below it, Wayne had attached his payment details. The room instantly fell silent. I clutched the paper, my knuckles turning white. "Wayne, are you sure there isn't some kind of mistake?"

“To say I uploaded it. To say it came through the channel and I thought it was approved. That’s all I had to do. Say it and keep saying it.” “Did you give someone your login?” He hesitated, then nodded. “When?” “Weeks ago. Someone said they needed access for a project update and didn’t want to wait for IT.” He let out a short laugh. “People share logins all the time when they’re in a hurry. I didn’t think about it.” “And the money?” “After.” His voice dropped. “After the collapse. After the news. Money showed up in my account, and then I got told what to say if anyone asked.”