Fake Heiress's A Pet-speaking Detective の小説・ストーリー

Pete asked and I nodded “I think so, I overheard a doctor over the phone. A patient recently passed and I’m sure he was administered the same drug and the person on the other end wasn't so pleased about it. I was able to get some pictures though” I explained and handed over my phone to Pete so he could go through the pictures. “This undercover detective thingy fits you” Pete teased, smiling as he swiped through the phone. "So…we're done right and can also leave?" Vegas asked

She says with the quirk of her perfectly arched brow. She takes a step towards me. I take one back. “I-I’ll clean this up!” I stutter out just as my back collides with the wall and she steps towards me again with a grin that holds a promise of pain and suffering. “Meera Florence.” She chimes, “the heiress to the biggest mafia empire in the entirety of Europe. Now pushed down to rags.” She says looking me up and down and giving me a feigned look of pity. “Who would have thought?” She wonders out loud, looking up at the intricately carved ceiling for a moment.

He said that there is more toil. "What do you need from me?" Saint promised weakly. "We want your power! Your position! And your wealth. And Deus wants to know where the hell is the mafia heiress." Mafia Heiress? Savienna is the real mafia heiress. But I am still claiming it as me because that's what they thought too. "Okay, I got what I wanted. Now I need to erase you to keep your mouth shut." Because of what Saint said, I saw a strange fear that enveloped Gayle's entire being.

After all, the quest for answers about her past lingered deep within her soul. It had been over forty agonizing minutes before Adrienne finally emerged, gracefully making her way down the grand staircase. She was adorned in a sleek, form-fitting black dress that accentuated her figure, paired with elegant black heels. In her hand, she carried a small, black clutch purse. As usual, her attire was skimpy, leaving little to the imagination. The matching black earrings and bracelet added an air of mystique. A wavy, curled black wig cascaded down her back, completing her alluring ensemble.

In my last life, I had screamed myself hoarse trying to make him look at me. I had cursed Lilian White for stealing my man, begged Vincent to remember who his fiancée was, and fought for a place he should have protected without being asked. In the end, all that noise won me nothing. I picked up my phone from the desk. “Professor Hartmann,” I said, my voice steady. “This is Isabella Rossi. I accept your invitation. I will be at the institute in one week.” “I knew you would call eventually, my dear. We have been waiting for you.”

After Afro took a look at all the items that were on sale, he exclaimed, "Look at all the anti-bird items here! I'm telling you, the final boss must be some sort of seabird!" "Seems like whoever defeats that thing will get the reward for this scenario!" But at that point, none of them had enough coins to buy anything that would have been useful. More ironically, the highly-priced items were all the gifts that the Swans had discarded, the ones that I had tried to give them upon returning. The discomfort in my throat still hadn't faded. I took out my coins, planning to buy a digestive solution, but Anna's voice came from beside me. "Mom, Dad, I want to buy the Sea Maiden's Dress. This banquet

The billionaire heiress touches Celeste's arm like she belongs there. I notice her immediately — because I notice everything, because noticing things is how I've stayed alive in rooms full of people who would happily watch me drown. She's young, maybe twenty-five, with dark hair and a smile that's been polished by the best surgeons money can buy. Her hand rests on Celeste's forearm like a claim. Her body angles toward Celeste like gravity. And I hate her instantly. Which would be easier to explain if I weren't supposedly running a con.

My wolf growled low in my chest. “She knows,” my wolf whispered, teeth barely bared in my mind. “Something about you… your past life. She knows more than she should.” I frowned, unease curling like smoke in my stomach. Seth noticed, stepping closer, lowering his voice. “Iris, who are you talking about?” “An elder,” I said cautiously. “Watching from the shadows. She looked… familiar. Recognizing me. Or maybe… Silver.” Seth’s expression darkened slightly. “Familiar? That’s… complicated. Be careful. Not all who recognize the past mean well.”