Fictional Law Books Novels & Stories

“This book isn’t for you.” “But I like the story.” “‘Like’ isn’t part of your life curriculum,” she said coldly. “Ace, this is a weak book. One that tries to make justice sound like a matter of emotion. And the world doesn’t work that way.” “It’s just fiction, Mama. For fun.” “Fiction won’t make you anybody.” Her eyes went ice cold. “We don’t read books that justify rebellion against the law. Especially ones that humanize criminals.” “But it’s not—”

At base sa sinabi ni Bryan, the first three letters ay posibleng initials lang ng pangalan. Pangalan... So could it be possible na pangalan 'yon ng libro? Considering that possibility, I mentally nodded my head. And then with that, I quickly bent down to the floor and started checking those books. THE PHILIPPINE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM... THE REVISED PENAL CODE Criminal Law BOOK I.. CRIMINAL PROCEDURE ... AFRICAN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES.. Wala man lang ibang title ng libro that could possibly be the one na siyang hinahanap ko.

Smiling, I knew exactly where I would spend most of my days. Taking this time to explore the books on all the shelves, I can’t help but find all sorts of novels within them. Books ranging from History all the way to Fiction. Law books to Art books, books even leaning towards the Erotica side of things. There was even a shelf solely made for cooking. Hmm… Thinking as to how I was going to start my revenge for all the shit they put me through, I knew only one thing when it came to mind and that was they were definitely way too serious, which was never a good thing. They needed to relax.

"Relax, Ziya. Why should you be so tense that he doesn't come." Haziya didn't reply with words, she tried to take a deep breath and then exhale slowly. Pulling a smile and then sitting up straight listening to the judge give a speech. Shabir's absence benefits Haziya. Zaweel, who is very experienced as a lawyer, did not experience any difficulties during the short trial. Even this is the lightest case he has ever held, before he had never received an offer to become a lawyer for a divorce case because the cases he faced were more severe and difficult than this. However, so far Zaweel can handle it well, so his clients are satisfied using the services of a lawyer from him.

And beneath it, I wrote three words: Find the truth. I spent the next year in libraries and courtrooms.I read everything. Criminal codes. Detective novels. Forensic science. Old news clippings. I started attending open hearings downtown — mostly petty theft and drug cases. But sometimes… sometimes I saw something useful.And then one day, I saw him. Raffaele Moretti.

Fitting. The second shelf held business and economics. Corporate structures, international finance, tax havens. I pulled one out, skimmed it, then slid it back in. For some reason I felt judged by the line of titles about risk management. The third shelf made me stop. Law. International casebooks, journals, commentary on commercial law. A few titles were very familiar. He even had one series I had used as a reference for my thesis. I pulled it out. Flipped through. Underlines everywhere. Notes in the margins. I recognized the handwriting. Firm, slightly slanted, like the man himself.

If I would've seen this page the first day I found the book I would've known it was fake. "Let me hear your summary so we can make sure ours match." Blake said. I looked down at the book and read the small passage to myself. Knowing that none of it made any sense. "It says not to tell anyone and since I don't need help I'll just give my notes to king Alexander." I said with a mocking smile. Turn in the notes that would make me fail because none of it was real and if I put the real laws down they would know. So I had to pray that my tests would help me pass because the notes definitely wouldn't.

However, the current period of my life could not be called iridescent and bright. In the office, the first thing I did was load the gun and put it in a drawer. The stack of documents that I so demanded from the lawyer lay boringly by the laptop, but it seemed to me a symbol of my dependence and helplessness. I could sit over them for a day and memorize every word, delve into every number, but this would not bring me closer to anything. Frankly, after Astakhov's words that it was because of him that I was found, I was even more inclined to believe that all this was a set-up organized by Ibragimov Sr. or one of his cronies.

I guess ignoring is better. With that decision made, I finally controlled my breathing but felt her holding my hand in a hurry asking, "Does my son like you?" I stared at her in shock while trying to understand what is she trying to ask me and nodded when she repeated the question. "Really? This is not just some fallacy to overcome bad articles that were passed?" she asked and I continued to stare at her in shock. "You know, Aunty?" I asked as I remember everyone saying she shouldn't know about the contract or any of this fake scheme that we fabricated because of those news articles.

The room has been unused and deserted for a long time and I couldn't understand why we were standing in front of it. The door hissed. It finally opened. It opened so wide and Xavier flung me into the room as if I were a ball. I moved unsteadily like a wind and my feet kicked against some dirty old cups, dusty bottles and old boxes which let out a shrieking noise that pierced my ears. My gown got swabbed by thick dust as the dirty items smooched it. Some drops of the dust shredded on my feet my smooth feet resembled brownies.