Dan Simmons Novels Novels & Stories

Donald snorted coldly before he said angrily, “You with the last name Simmons, I know that you are acquainted and connected to a lot of wealthy and powerful people. Therefore, I have no choice but to think twice about killing you. However, I have no worries or fear at all to smash everything in your clinic and tear your clinic apart.” After that, Donald continued yelling, “Let me tell you something. Anthony Simmons, if you dare to open another clinic in the future, I will send my men to smash your clinic again. I will destroy your clinic every time you try to open a new one. I really want to see who can help you out then!”

Chapter 10 The call ended, but the silence it left behind was louder than the voice that had spoken. Darian stood by the window of his office, phone still pressed to his ear long after the line had gone dead. Below him, the city moved as it always did, cars driving, people crossing streets, lives continuing without interruption. It irritated him, everything should have paused. Something fundamental had shifted, and the world had failed to notice. Simon had been confident. Too confident. “I checked again,” Simon had said, sounding mildly annoyed at being questioned twice. “Everything lines up. She was booked. Paid in full. No irregularities.”

Something that I loathed from the bottom of my heart was waiting for a person. That was why I was sitting in this office room precisely. Waiting for one of the bastards of Chicago was the greatest one that had ever been born in this world. Andrew Simmons. This would be the first time for me to meet him, although he was close with my father once upon a time. But for some reason, I always got that “stay away” cautionary from that man. He literally was the perfect example of a villain, just like my father. He was a womanizer, but he liked to show off, not only his wives but his money, authorities in a word you could describe him as a power-hunger.

Simon knew me well. "You had a fight with your woman, right?" He continued. "I have no idea of what you're saying, Simon." He went forward and picked up Mae's picture from my seat. "She's the one right?" Simon was extremely good in reading minds. I haven't said a word but he has figured everything out. I had invited him countless numbers of times to join me in running Powers City, he refused every single time. Simon was softhearted. He hated killings and its likes.

That evening, in the common room, he found something close to peace, the first since the verdict. Griff worked a hand of solitaire, cards gone soft and gray from years of shuffling, same texture as the book. Simms sat across from him, chalk dust still ground into the creases of his knuckles, reading through commissary requisition forms like they mattered. Nobody spoke for a long stretch. Nobody needed to. The quiet had texture, comfortable, lived-in, the kind that only grows between people who've stopped needing to perform for each other.

Vivian's fingers clenched in her lap, her chest rumbling with frustration, yet her face maintained a smile, even if a bit forced. After dinner was over, Simon invited Damian to join him in his private study. Damian complied without asking many questions, following his father's steps down the hallway toward the room filled with high bookshelves and the distinct scent of aged wood. Once the door closed firmly behind them, Simon seated himself at his executive desk, looking at Damian standing before him with a probing gaze. "Do you have a problem?" Simon asked directly, foregoing pleasantries. "None," Damian answered briefly, shaking his head.

And I knew from the look in Simons's eyes I was about to pay the price for my naivety. Simon's grip on the chains around my neck tightened as he pushed me to my knees, yelping as pain tore through my kneecaps from the harsh porcelain in the slippery tub and how he pulled my neck back with the chains. "Think you can play us, huh?" Simon asked, his voice tainted with amusement. "Silly girl! You think this is my first rodeo?" He grinned down at me as Luke shut the water off. My eyes caught Lukes momentarily; the look of betrayal that he wore had me scoffing.

“Thank you,” I said once the room had settled. “Some of you may not know me,” I began, ”so let me quickly introduce myself. My name is John Simmons, but my friends call me Jay.” “I asked the newlyweds for a few minutes because I have a confession to make.” Jenny almost stood up, but Daniel gently stopped her, and she stayed seated. The crowd began to pay attention. “About a year ago, I made a bet—which, as most of you probably guessed, I lost.” Laughter rippled through the room. Dad started watching Jenny, but her face gave nothing away.

C Damien's POV. The whiskey burned in my throat as I stepped out of the bar. The cold night air slapped my face, but my chest still felt like fire. I had just left Simone at her apartment, and my ears were still ringing from her crying. "Damian, I only wanted to protect you," she had wept on the drive over. "Nadia is a plain housewife. There is no way she is the Holt heiress!" "Just shut up, Simone!" I had slammed my hand on the steering wheel.

“Shouldn’t this order come through officially? I don’t understand what some thug getting shot would have to do with—” “Simmons,” Jack interrupts with a falsely pleasant tone. “I dare you, I absolutely dare you, to call the Black attempted homicide victim currently in surgery, fighting for his life, a ‘thug’ one more time. I really do dare you, Simmons.” Simmons’s face turns a sort of mottled purple, and he practically spits when he says, “Are you trying to call me some kind of racist, sir?”