Ghost's Son Novels & Stories

And then, a final image — the Grayson Veronin symbol painted across the wall in blood-red pixels. The same mark that had burned itself into the warehouse hours ago. The Ghost hadn’t just resurrected my father’s systems. He’d resurrected his enemies. For a moment, none of us spoke. The air inside the vault felt heavier than oxygen, like the walls themselves were breathing with us. Roman D’Angelo.

"Worth... every moment..." Matthew hadn't let go of his other hand, his healing magic still wrapping protectively around his father. Through their family bond, Ghost felt how his coma had affected his son's confidence. "My boy," he said softly. "You did... everything right..." "I thought we'd lose you," Matthew admitted, his voice catching. "Thought I'd failed to heal you in time." Ghost squeezed his son's hand as firmly as he could. "Never fail... always proud..." Sarah moved to touch his arm hesitantly. "The blade was meant for me. You shouldn't have—"

He looks at his own son as if he is just another piece of trash to be swept away. The old man begins to squeeze the trigger again, the barrel leveled at my face. He wants to finish the job. But he forgot one thing. He isn't the only ghost in this house. From the thick, swirling smoke behind him, a figure emerges like a wraith. It is Lorenzo. His face is blackened with soot, his eyes wide and bloodshot, leaking tears from the sting of the fumes. He lunges, his arms wrapping around his father’s waist, driving the old man backward toward the jagged edge of the collapsed hallway.

The Totality manifests, torn between versions of their mother and their brothers. “We don’t know which side to take,” they admit. “Mama-as-Death-Keeper wants us to stop Marcus. Mama-as-ghost wants us to help him. We can’t support both.” Alistair appears, conscious again despite the pain of severing our bond twice, and he sees ghost-me guiding our sons to steal death authority. “Mabel?” he asks carefully. “Is that really you or some trick?” “It’s me,” ghost-me says. “The part of me that still loves you, that still wants to be with our family instead of existing as death incarnate. Help our sons save me, please.”

Ghost could almost hear his voice in the back of his skull, mocking, claiming, whispering she is mine. No. Ghost’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding until his head ached. Emily was not Kane’s. She was his blood. His daughter. And though she wept now, though she broke in front of all of them, she would rise again. Ghost would make damn sure of it. Grim’s voice called for silence. Hawk and Tank lifted the coffin, boots thudding heavy against the earth as they carried Rhett toward the grave cut deep in the red dirt. The brothers followed in silence, engines rumbling low like mourners.

"Wha-? G-phone has an AI too?" Laura raised a brow. AI? Did this geek really think that an AI would be this intelligent? Was he living in a fantasy world? "No, I have a name. It's Laura and to be more precise, I'm currently an e-ghost. That means I am dependent on your power source in the phone and cannot leave the phone until I level up enough. For your information, this isn't a programmed back story, don't look at me like that. I'm a real human... was a real human anyway. I died many years back, I think."

I heard Custard letting out a howl as Nate and I found ourselves in a hazy scenario. The ghost appeared before us, clearer this time. It was the man in the picture. I could fully see the familiar red hair and green eyes. The man smiled warmly as he gazes at Nate. His eyes brimming with tears as he mouthed one word that made Nate stumble back in shock. His lips quivered that I was the one who had to steady him this time. Son.

The Governor's Son Synopsis: "If disownment is the way to escape… I will file to be by your side." Don Angelito De Silva Marquez is a possessive, lawless but charismatic son of a Governor. He was forced to study law and join his father's legal team—covering up his dirty secrets. By this, at an early age, he becomes cognizant of how dirty politics is played.

The glass shattered, the precious liquid soaking into the hospital linoleum. "You don't deserve Stormriven healing. Not anymore. My heart breaks for the daughter I failed. My heart breaks for the years I wasted on a placeholder." "Placeholder? Is that all I am to you now? Because of a piece of paper? I am the Ghost of Nightfall! I am the one who built the Varkane weaponry! I am your son!" "You are a ghost, alright. A phantom who stole twenty-five years of our love. Garron, find her. Find Seraphina. Bring her home. We have a lot to make up for."

”Sophia, bring him forth. The ghostly, pale soul of a man rose up from the floor where his tomb had been. ”My daughters! My son!” he wailed. ”I failed as a father. Forgive my shortcomings! I failed!” ”Father!” Gaius turned his hollow skull toward him. He walked a bit closer, his bones clicking against the stone. ”I was a bad son. I did this to you. You look so pale.”