Dostoevsky Novels & Stories

Daddy is one of eight Enders in existence. I will say as far as they went, he wasn’t the worst. The things that he destroyed or took to his realm to punish deserved it for lack of a better term. The things he brought back to Ethos or sent to another world, rather than killed were beings he felt worthy to save. Luferine only keeps the rarest and most powerful of creatures in his keep. There was a point and time I wondered about being one of them, the rarest and most powerful. Wishful thinking. Not because I wanted to be a slave, but because I hoped that I would become strong enough to free myself.

His shadow was missing, leaving an eerie emptiness at his feet. Dizziness clouded my vision, and as my consciousness wavered, a figure materialized out of the darkness. Hayden, the enigmatic ruler of the mythological Underworld, stood before me. My eyes widened in shock and fear as I believed he had come to reclaim me, to take me back to the realm of shadows and despair.

I took the laptop up to my room and closed the door behind me. I accessed my email and opened the John Gold file again. He was five foot ten inches, with light brown hair. He was short for a man and his personality showed his affliction. He had short man syndrome. He wasn’t in terrible shape but he could be in better shape. He was filthy rich, exclamation on the filthy part and the surprising factor, I was friends with his son, Robert Gold.

His physique was lean and athletic, with broad shoulders and a confident posture that spoke of his adventurous spirit. Secondly, Aleksandra Ivanovich, The Intellectual brother. He possessed a distinguished and refined appearance. His facial features were sharp, with intelligent eyes that seemed to hold a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. Complemented by a well-groomed beard and neatly combed salt-and-pepper hair, he exuded an aura of intellectual sophistication. His physique was lean and well-proportioned, reflecting a balance of discipline and elegance.

Chapter 1 Jostein De Vere is one of the oligarchs that are well known to be a gentleman all over the country. He is one of the respected businessmen, but what they don't know for is being a psychopath and ruthless. It is some months for the grandest event preparation; before will hold at Caleb Rothschild's mansion. Jostein is one of the hundred businessmen that is excited to be on that night. Jostein De Vere walks to his silent corridor while looking at the window. On the other hand, the maids are preparing his breakfast. He tends to wake up early in the morning to have some exercise routines.

He replied. "I wonder if my dad is looking down at me," I wondered, then faced Alessandro, who I could barely see in the dark, but I saw a slight glint in his eye from the light of the alarm clock beside me. "He's proud of you, love," He whispered in a sleepy voice. "If you don't mind me asking, how did your father die?" I sighed. "He was shot by Russians, apparently some dude named Ivan Petrov. I've been trying to locate him for some time now but he kept moving from place to place so I gave up and just dealt with it, I guess"

Not quite registering the question, she looked at her hand, which now rested on the wooden panel. Derek reached over and took the book from her lap, examining the cover and the blurb on the back. "Fyodor Dostoyevsky, huh?" he asked, proceeding to read the page that Ashlyn had bookmarked. "'But how could you live and have no story to tell?' That was him, right?" Derek asked, and Ashlyn nodded, a ghost of a smile possessing her lips. How had he known that? The quote was not referenced in the pages that he read. It wasn't often that she met someone who knew Dostoyevsky, at least not outside of her World History class.

(Thats enough she belongs to Leonardo now and is not to be touched, this is unless you want to explain to the don that you ruined his birthday gift) the other man said. The man hand trembles as he pulled his hand away with an audible gulp. "No, nemmeno io ho così tanto desiderio di morte"( No not even I have that much of a death wish) the man said fear evident in his voice. Isabella wondered who this Leonardo person was and why was he so feared but as she started to put two and two together her heart began racing in her chest as she remembered where she heard that name before.

It sank even deeper but I tried not to show it. "Why are you telling me? You usually don't." He was quiet, till he breathed. "I don't know," before his footsteps got entirely erased. * * * * My fingers trailed across the spine of the books and I stopped on a white covered book. I pull it out of the shelf and hold it in both hands. "Crime and Punishment," I read aloud before gazing down at the author's name. "Fyodor Dos-tos-to-eeev-evsky?" I squint my eyes. "Fyodor Dostoevsky!"