Descendants Doug Novels & Stories

Doug came back empty-handed again, his chest churning with regret and refusal to accept how things ended. He convinced himself Monica just needed one more chance to see her true feelings. That had to be it. So he put everything he had left on the line and set up one final kidnapping. - When I woke up again, I found myself locked in a basement. In my hand was a simple device with two buttons, one on the left, one on the right. Chad and Doug both had timed bombs strapped to them. The countdown ticked steadily, each beep cutting through the air.

“That’s true. There’s no place like it if you like quiet. Speaking of which, Denver, this guy needs to get married too…. How old are you, and you’re always out golfing.” “Mom, I’m still in my 20s. Twenty-seven is still a baby.” “Ugh, disgusting.” “Honestly, it is the age to be disgusting.” Douglass’s words made Denver’s mother burst into laughter. “We have someone we’re supposed to meet inside. We’ll see you later, Mother.” “Okay, see you at the wedding.” Douglass and Sandra exchanged brief greetings with the mother and son before moving further inside. After confirming that there were no people around, Sandra spoke.

Seeing her daughter this way hurts her to the gut. "Mr. Nolan, I think we have a common enemy here and that is Broderick. I can go any length to help you destroy him. Eventhough he's from my clan and my grandson as a matter of fact, I hate him with passion. Did you know that he killed Michael, my lovely grandson? I want Broderick dead," Lord Douglas said.

Preston stared at the guy holding a baby "Let's start with who you are" "My name is Douglas but most people call me Doug. I would shake your hand if my hands weren't full" he said so cheerfully earning himself an instant dislike. Preston didn't like cheerful people. They were either too nice or psychopaths "You have a last name, Doug?" "O'Leary" "Okay O'Leary, what do you do?" "He's a handyman" Thea answered for him making Preston give her a stinky side eye

"Yes, he will do well from now on. I'm certain his uncle will be very happy to come on board. From what I understand, he also had certain investments in Las Vegas that could come in handy." "Good to know," Elijah said, lifting his glass in salute. I realized at that moment the very reason Douglas put his stamp on anything—greed. I was sickened even more, wondering if there was a decent bone in Elijah's body or if he'd merely fallen into his father's footsteps. What did it matter? After my contract expired, I'd find a way to get the hell out of San Diego. There had to be a way. "If nothing else, Pops, you threw a fantastic event."

Then, he logged into a secret communication network to contact the Chapman royal family. "Douglas, why are you reaching out suddenly? Weren't you in Goldspire?" A middle-aged man appeared on the screen. He was the chief of the Chapman family's internal communication system, Nathan Leeds. "Something's happened!" Douglas' tone was somber. "What happened?" Douglas hesitated, finding it hard to put into words. But he knew he couldn't hide it. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Cade is dead!" "What?" Nathan was shocked.

Aspirin. At this point in time, he would take a twenty-pound sledgehammer upside the head. As long as it knocked him out or just completely put him out of his misery. “Douglas?” special agent in charge David MacFarland called out as he followed Douggie down the hall. Douggie let the hand that was rubbing the bridge of his nose, he turned around and plastered his professional smile on his face. “It’s just Douggie.” “Mac.” He held out a hand and Douggie took it.

My mother rubbed her palms together and asked her for mercy. Douglas yelled at her, interjecting our plea. Douglas was once a member of the vegetative pack before his parents were killed by my father. Ever since then, he moved out of the vegetative pack to the North were he struggled to meet up with his needs, gathered rogue members like him, and had made promise to come back someday and take a brutal revenge. Cena, Jason, and Jeremy ran up to where we were. " What's happening here? This dude has been killed?" Jeremy asked as he saw the guy on mask laying dead on the floor.

I asked, my eyebrows furrowed. Don Morano shifted on his chair. “What you're feeling is a normal thing for anyone in your position. I myself felt the same way when I was declared as the Don.” he said and I nodded as he spoke. “Your father, may his soul rest in perfect peace, left a great legacy that seemed very difficult to uphold. Even with his short while as Don, he made the underworld tremble at the mention of the name Morano. That seemed terrifying, even for me.” He continued.

Marcus Doug Douglas had played many roles throughout his long and rather productive life, including those of son, brother, husband, father, uncle, friend, industrialist, politician, strategist, artist, and for the last six decades, village blacksmith. His biological body had died years before, which explained why, with the notable exempting of his brain and some spinal cord, the rest of Doug Douglas was synthetic. Nor was this the first such body. After being forced to occupy a blue eyed monstrosity immediately after his "death", the businessman had commissioned bodies that looked a lot like the original had. Pleasant but portly. His Asian-Parsian ancestors would have been proud.