Dear John Novel Summary Novels & Stories

The past does not just haunt you. Sometimes it walks up and calls you family. We had barely slept after the rescue. The documents from Elena’s secondary compound sat spread across the dining table like poisonous snakes. John had been reading them for hours, his face growing paler with every page. I sat beside him with my hand on his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. “John talk to me,” I said softly. “You have not said a word in twenty minutes.”

He said. "I don't like her nor am I in love with her. I just told you, she's mine. That's all. Mine to hold, mine kiss, mine to fuck." Lorenzo said. John tilted his head, eyeing his best friend. John has known Lorenzo most of his life. When Lorenzo's father Alessandro moves the Mafia to America after he had won a war between the him and the American Mafia, he found John. John was homeless. An 11 year old homeless innocent little boy, stealing food to at least stay alive.

If you asked me he was a bit overdressed for a dinner. “This is Mr.John, a high top lawyer that is known for his adequacy. He runs a firm as well.” I introduced the un-motioned Mr.John. I had the impression that he didn’t like me the first time I was introduced by Jed which was few hours ago. The meeting had to take place as early as six in the morning. Dad’s flight was scheduled for noon and he wouldn’t be happy if he found out I snuck out behind his back to alter the contract. “Nice meeting you Mr.John,” he offered his hand for a shake. John nodded in reply and sipped his stale water. The waiter was back with wine and an appetizer, a French croissant that was famous for it warmth and delic

Date = 8 November Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house) POV - Melaena “This whole thing has been coming for a long time,” Uncle John says, his voice roughening, like the words are scraping their way out. “We just never thought it would touch you. Not like this.” He swallows hard. “Turns out … we were wrong.” The room seems to shrink. Even the house — this warm, beautiful dream of a place — feels like it’s holding its breath.

Miss Grace asked. “But mum, I have to be worried, John haven't picked up the calls. In fact, he is the best man tomorrow, oh my goodness,” Ivana stated. She was about to call him one last time when John walked in staggering. “She hear..tbro.. ken my heart, ….she......she killed my baby…she is a monster.....oh … I hate her….” John struggled to form a sentence. The moment John stood in the living room, liquor smell spread in the house.

“You did touch me, didn’t you?” John shook his head quickly—then, just as fast, he nodded. His whole body trembled like a leaf in a storm. I inhaled deeply, my cold gaze never wavering. “Tell me, Johnny…” I murmured. “What do you know?” He flicked his gaze toward the officers as if searching for a savior. “You know,” I continued, my voice turning sweet, “Dear old Daddy isn’t here to save you this time.” I leaned in, close enough to see the sweat gathering at his temples. “So you’re going to do me a favor. You’re going to tell me everything, or I swear, the last thing you’ll hear before you go deaf is the sound of my palm against your cheek.”

Zack had no choice but to keep his mouth shut and go back to his work. Back when I was three years old, John found out that Wendy Sawyer, my mother, had remained in contact with her first love. Hence, he firmly believed I was not his. The fatherly love I enjoyed disappeared since then. I was curious. Would John be upset if he knew that body was mine? At the end of the work day, John had carefully put the ancient corpses away. Then, he happily went to the market to buy groceries. The food he bought was all meat and Fred's favorites. He had completely forgotten about the headless corpse.

It had been two months since she had last stayed here, yet nothing in the room had been moved. She took a shower and lay down on the bed. Being back in this room gave her a strange feeling. She thought she would not be able to sleep, but she dozed off not long after lying down. She even dreamed about John. In her dream, John was treated terribly at home. His grandfather was harsh while his parents kept comparing him to others and demanding that he be the best. Solomon, his older brother, watched coldly from the side and schemed against him. John was bruised and miserable, yet he kept pushing forward.

Catherine's POV: My drive to him, though silent, was filled with so many voices in my head. I couldn't shake off the fact that John was the one carrying out the killings. How had things gone from peaceful to chaotic all of a sudden. I remember the first time I met John. He was such a nice man, attending to me and asking me questions. I remember breaking down in tears before him after lamenting my situation to him and he had listened to me without even judging me.

He leans over and as he skims his fingers over my cheek, he says, "How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?" I lower and close my eyes as I lean into his touch and the tingles that spread out from his hand. I then lift my eyes to his as I say without answering his questions, "What happened? Where is John?" "John got what he deserved and is now serving his punishment in hell. The town itself has been given new leadership, and we can monitor their progress from home." I look at him with wide eyes as I say, “We can go home?”