Four Faced Liar Nyc Novels & Stories

The city twinkled and glistened in a brilliant aura of lights, a magic carpet embedded with jewels on my feet. I stood at an open view deck on the 72nd floor of The Shard, Europe's tallest building, the wind blowing my hair as I stared down at London. Four days were coming to an end. Tomorrow, we leave for New York. Back to the regularity after four beautiful days that I spend with Liam. It's throwing me away as to how much I love him. It's just weird. For how long have I even know him? Doesn't love need time? But then I guess, the whole concept of love was weird anyway. And ambiguous as well.

The conversation spread like wildfire through the university, and before long, everyone was talking about it. As the story gained momentum, Scarlett disappeared, refusing to return to the dorm, likely hiding somewhere outside. But we saw her again soon enough. A few well-dressed older men cornered her in front of the university gates and began to berate her furiously. "You lying little thing! You've been photoshopping your photos, and now we find out your entire persona is nothing but a fabrication!" "You're juggling multiple boyfriends at once? How scandalous!" "And what's this nonsense about being the daughter of the Becker family? Pfft! You better pay back the money you owe, you fraud!"

I concentrated very hard on the link and heard him thinking about some men, I picked up the words criminals, homeless and death. It all sounded like gibberish to me but it was better than nothing. "Lucian, I heard him thinking about criminals and homeless people. Does that ring a bell?" I asked Lucian after losing the connection. "hmmm.... that sounds like features of the rough parts of the city" he murmured, deep in thought "What part of the city would be filled with criminals, homeless people and all manner of bad people?" Lucian asked me "well, it certainly can't be Manhattan. I heard Hell's kitchen is probably the toughest part of New York" I said, but not very sure.

Hislong hair was tied back in a pony tail. "Hi..." said a scantily clad woman. However, the man just smiled and walked straight towards the place he needed to go. This slump area in New York City, the women who peddled themselves on the side of the road watching him. Mashers pick and choose these women while laughing disgustingly.

245 West 163rd Street, Apt 4B New York, NY 10032. For a woman who loves to go after the rich and mighty she lives in the middle-class side of the city, how fun, guess she knows how to cover her tracks better than I thought. Well Sienna, time to pay you a little visit, you don’t get to go silent on me and not expect a reaction.

New York was a wound that never healed. It smelled of exhaust, wet concrete, and fried food that had been sitting too long. A city that chewed through people, then spit out their bones on the sidewalks. Perfect cover for me. I was hunting a man who thought he was untouchable—a kingpin who traded women like currency, who wore his cruelty like a designer suit. I’d been watching him for weeks. I had his routine memorized down to the minute. At 11:15 he stepped outside to smoke. At 11:28 his runner dropped an envelope. At 11:33 he checked his phone to make sure the alley camera still worked.

Her remaining days would be full of misery. I was momentarily stunned by the news, but soon I calmed down. The moment I decided to let go, I had already come to terms with everything. My lingering feelings had vanished with their schemes. They were just strangers now. I exhaled, looking at Isaac. "Got the gossip out of your system? Let's talk about work." Isaac let out a dramatic groan. I laughed, determined to fight for a good life for myself. The time ahead would be mine and mine alone.

What the hell? This can’t be! I’m probably seeing wrong, they just look alike. I gulped, looking away. “Are you okay?” Frank whispered close to me, his hand gently rubbing my palm. I slowly looked at him, forcing a smile on my face. “Of course.” I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. “I just hurt my nail,” I lied, picking up my purse while avoiding looking at him. “Uncle Frank!” The young man cheered, walking towards us, my body shook from his presence, I could feel the hair on my skin rise in both excitement and fear.

Cleared rooms for my comfort. And behind my back, they helped him cheat. They joked about it. They mocked me for it. I walked away in a daze. By the time I got home, I grabbed my suitcase and left. Straight to the airport. In the taxi, the driver tried to make small talk. “Late-night trip? Vacation?” I smiled faintly, staring out at the lights blurring past the window. “No,” I said. “Immigration.” The stars were bright that night. And I didn’t look back.