Brock Lesnar Son Novels & Stories

The bench door opened as I rounded the circle. The equipment manager's young son stepped out onto the floor near the bench. Wearing an oversized Titans jersey with my number on the back and holding a miniature stick, he looked around wide-eyed. When he spotted me, the tennis ball in his hand slipped and rolled across the floor to a stop near his shoe. "Hey, Captain," the equipment manager called out from the doorway, wiping a smudge of machine oil from his hands on a rag. "Sorry, I had to bring him back here for a minute while I finish inventory. He would not wait in the office."

"In there." I march in and hold my hand over my mouth the moment I do. The boy in question is, in fact, Henley Anderson, the son of Jackson Anderson from Oklahoma. We believe that they're currently embroiled in a rather heated war with the Russians on their turf, which means this was the Orlov Bratva. The leader's son is also in attendance here, Stepan Orlov. Henley was only fifteen years old. Stepan is seventeen years old. My stomach churns at the sight in front of me. The blood and gore are indescribable. They have gouged his eyes out of his head and fixed his mouth open with a device. "Inform the family and get Ainsley here to clear it up."

I just entered a taxi real quick. Memories flooded me as I sat in the car. All the moments spent with Jeremy.Jeremy was tall with dark brown hair, a sharp jawline with a hint of stubble.His hazel-green eyes were my favorite features and his broad shoulders with bulky muscles. He was his father’s only son in charge of the multi billion dollar business across the majority of the states.

When I'm brought back to the Gould family, Matthew Gould, the adopted son who's taken my place all these years, doesn't even bother putting on an act. The first thing he does is punch me square in the face. "So what if you're the real son? Mom and Dad already told me all the family assets will be mine, and that you're not getting a dime!" I don't take it lying down. I hit him back even harder, then drag him straight to Mom and Dad, his face swollen almost beyond recognition. "Is what he said true?" I demand. Mom and Dad look panicked, putting on placating smiles as they scramble to explain. "Of course not! You're both our sons. We'd never treat either of you differently." I raise an eye

He handed the stack of papers to the man he considered his son. Knowing Leonel since he was mischievous and taking care of many things related to the boy's mischief, Chris was confident that in the future, the naughty boy would become a star in the Hartono family. His instincts were never wrong, right? Leonel Grisham was one of the most respected businessmen in New York City.

“The Ledger? Sounds like a boring accountant.” “He’s the man who is going to put a noose around your neck if you don’t find him first. He’s tactical, he’s invisible, and he’s angry. Don’t disappoint me again, Ronan. The family doesn’t have room for a son who can’t hold his own weight.”

What the hell? "Anyway, let me introduce myself properly." The car stopped because of a red light, the young man turned to face her. “I’m Wren Leath. Your boyfriend’s half older brother— I’m Dad’s legal son. ”

I whispered. "Sorry?" He let out a sharp, ugly laugh. He walked around the desk, his movements slow and predatory. "You're sorry? My business partners are calling me, Leo. They’re asking me why my son is in a viral video beating a boy half to death at some trashy party. They’re asking if I have control over my own house." "He was talking about—"

"I don't have any earpods on, Bash. No one is helping him." He grunted, removing his hand away from my face. "What about him?" He pointed to another guy. "Harry. Owner of a luxurious perfume brand. His son is a badminton player." I answered, feeling like a kid, answering his teacher. "Wrong. His son is a lawyer." I shook my head. "He is a badminton player. Wanna bet?" He immediately agreed. "You will leave if his son is a lawyer." I scowled at him. Son of a b.... No, I can't say that. Bash's parents are amazing people. After everything, he uses every opportunity to push me away. Fuckard.

Brant I was ready. This was the final round, and I couldn’t wait to face that motherfucker. My opponent was Don Franco’s man. I needed to defeat him not just for the victory, but so Franco would understand exactly who I was. No one would ever dare touch me again. I knew his son was the one who tried to cripple me, but Einstein never did anything without his father’s approval. Leslie walked up to me, confidence etched on her face, radiating from her stride. “Are you ready?” she asked.