Novel & Cerita Ernesto Dela Cruz Death

I knew better than to insist I stay with him. Not wasting another second, I scurried for the stairs. My chest hammering as I heard the newscaster’s next sentence. “Fernando Cruz, the owner of the bombed establishment had been mysteriously found dead in his own home, along with his wife and two teenage sons. All bodies mutilated.” Goosebumps peppered across my skin and I stopped in my tracks. “Cellie,” Demetrio’s voice was a warning growl. I ran up the steps, my stomach churning with an unpleasant feeling. I didn’t know who the hell Fernando Cruz was but whoever that killed him had to be the same enemy Demetrio was fighting.

Raphael, "It's not just a common guy who died. I bet they'll broadcast it for another week for sure." Eduardo sighed and said, "You know how these cases get... They won't stop until we solve this one." Raphael shrugged his shoulders. "We'll just have to find that killer." I interrupted and asked, "Who are you talking about? who died?" Eduardo, "Didn't you see the news channel? It's been over a week since it happened but they're still talking about the whole city." "Was that guy a big shot?" "It's not some guy. It's Paulo Cruz, the head of the Pandora gang. He died in a terrible way and no one knows who killed him."

The second Sterling tried to move, a wave of bullets broke through the air and struck him dead in the chest. Cruz was truly dead by the time his body hit the floor. But from the amount of blood that was pooling around Lorenzo, there was a likely chance that Cruz wouldn’t be the only body they’d be carrying out. “Please,” Eleanor sobbed. “Help me get him to a hospital.”

I suddenly stopped cursing myself and glanced at him when he added that. His face was now serious and without any tinge of joke on it. "If it wasn't Mr. Ronaldo del Fuero who killed Mrs. Enriquez, then sino? Wala namang matibay na ebidensya that he had done that crime...and besides, he died just a few months after that murder incident.." Pagpapatuloy nito with his creased brows and fingers tapping his chin, talagang pinag-iisipan ito ng mabuti.

“How long was Estevez there?” “Five months,” Marco said. “Then, terminated. But not by Cortez.” “Then by who?” “He died,” Marco said flatly. “Two weeks before the Paris summit. Car crash. No autopsy was made public. Cortez’s studio paid for everything. No family statement. No funeral records. Sealed report.” Ximena’s stomach turned. Not in fear—**in fury**. “Someone erased him,” she whispered. “Someone didn’t want him talking,” Marco corrected. “Someone who knew what he saw inside your vault.”

Think. "Uhmm..." I looked at her. "Yeah?" she asked after she take a zip from her coffee. "Did you know why Senior Enril died?" I asked. I lift up my teacup and zip coffee from it. I can't think of anything to ask her. She lean towards me and started to talk using a low voice. "They say that seven years ago, he was killed by his own granddaughter, Erica Roberts," she narrated like she was telling a scary story.

And I did not make a mistake there because when I tried to look up the grim reaper I was waiting for was in front of me and holding a gleaming but burning sword. "Ralph Recto, son of Luisito Recto. As one of the angels of death. I am putting you to death today. Get lost." At the same time, Saint said that was the gesture of his sword splitting into Ralph's body that traced the shock in his eyes. Even I was shocked, unable to speak and fear completely invaded my whole being. My lips parted in pity when I slowly saw Ralph's body burning in front of me until it turned to ashes and vanished in the blink of an eye.

-———————————————————— A week after Rico’s death, the police report was released, the headline flashing across newspapers and television screens: **"Detective Rico Morales Found Dead in Apparent Suicide." At the precinct, detectives gathered in somber silence, discussing the details of the report. The forensic team had found a glass laced with poison, Rico’s fingerprints smudged across it, alongside a handwritten suicide note. The note was short but sorrowful, expressing his regret over his failures in solving recent high-profile cases, including those of his friends Jack and Carlos.

When he saw Chris' name on the screen, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face. "Hello?" "Connor, we found a dismembered body during our patrol by the southern riverbank." On the morning I was killed, Connor had told me to help Vivian with the ceremony preparations. I refused and told him I had already promised to volunteer at the orphanage in the southern district. "The ceremony isn't over yet. I'll go tomo—" Chris gently interrupted him, "Even though the face was destroyed, one of the severed hands was wearing the bracelet you gave Sylvia."

Yeah, he forgets he's too old for that stuff. And Julie, according to Cole, didn't seem to care. She had moved on with her flashy life, pretending that the divorce was the best thing that ever happened to her, and that she'd never been happier or freer. Yeah, more like bitchier than ever. Then there was Ernesto, the person considered important but the only one missing from the funeral. Fortunately for everyone involved, he was still being held in the station, awaiting trial. The judges didn't really buy the "self-defense crap" he and his lawyers were peddling. He'd almost killed Alejandro, who was in prison but at least alive, and he had actually killed two other men or so. They'd pulled up