Ghost Whisperer Professor Payne Mga Nobela at Kwento

He wasn’t used to humans being bored by his intensity. “Obsession?” he repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low-octave growl. “Yes,” I snapped, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “You are clearly looking for someone, Mr. Vane. A woman who apparently argued with you and had a ‘spirit’ you can’t forget. But I am not your ghost. I am a preschool teacher who just wants to be allowed to do her actual job instead of being forced to play ‘liaison’ to a man who doesn’t understand boundaries.”

I cannot lose Professor Fortez. “You’ve underestimated him.” he whispered under his breath. I didn’t catch it. My forehead creased as I looked at him. “Listen to me, Tiara. I’ll deal with your so – called fiancé and the people pulling strings. As for your professor… he can go to hell.” he said but I didn’t catch the last thing he said. “What did you say?” I furrowed my brows. My face confused as I stared at him.

"Consideration." I bite my lower lip, leaning in as I whisper. "Whatever my professor wants, I guess." At that, he smiles, and swiftly lifts me off the ground. "You're going to cash in your first payment now, Miss Cross."

He looked at me, and something in his gaze shifted. “It’s that professor, isn’t it?” I didn’t deny it. "Goddammit, Aaron.” He cursed under his breath --- Back at home, I collapsed into my desk chair, hands still shaking. My knuckles were split from the punch, but I barely felt it. I refused to talk to anyone and made sure to lock my door tight. My mind was burning. Who the fuck are you, Japheth Wilson? You don’t look like a man who just started teaching. You don’t act like it. You’re too calm. Too controlled. Too rehearsed.

The man who had spent decades crafting a mask of untouchable virtue was gone. In his place stood a hollow shell, his skin the color of damp ash, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the screen. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to breathe, his eyes fixed on the image of his own hands committing the ultimate sin. "The server..." Pierce whispered, the sound a dry rattle in the back of his throat. "It was encrypted. It was off-grid. It was impossible." "Nothing is impossible for a ghost, Pierce," Daniel said, his voice cutting through the stagnant air like a winter wind.

The first thing I registered was a pair of expensive shoes, a deep, polished mahogany that probably cost thousands of dollars, before my gaze slowly, inexorably lifted to his face. The moment my eyes met his face, I let out a loud, shocking gasp that sent me landing back on the ground. It was him. My hot, devilish professor. What was he doing here, and why did he just step out of an expensive car? Isn't he supposed to be a professor who depends on the government for his salary? He walked closer to us, and the man who had been trading insults with me bowed to him. "Boss. She's fine," he said.

The Whisperer’s lips thinned, “Phineas Striker and I have history. Even if I wanted him to look into my eyes, which I do, it’s too dangerous for me to visit him in person. The spies I have in the Eye aren’t very high up. I’m working on gaining more, but it’s not an easy feat. They protect their own very effectively.” Not giving myself the time to back out, I slammed my shoulder into the wall and groaned as it popped back into place. The pain swept me away, stealing my vision for several seconds. When it finally came back I looked into the Whisperer’s eyes and swore I saw a fleeting speck of sympathy in their depths. It vanished before I could hold onto it, slipping through my fingers like mi

Professor is a professional disguiser, he has the ability to change his appearance to anybody he wants to, even a woman. Sorry I forgot, the twist is according to the information collected by the spies Garry would be alone when coming back to the palace which would be easy for Clark to kidnap him but he is not coming alone. He is fully protected with the armed bodyguards. There are four cars, more than 12 bodyguards with weapons and Garry Allen is under their protection. Clark saw the cars coming toward them with his binoculars, 'Holy shit?' "Did you see something?" 'Yes chief, this Garry is an unexpected creature… He is not alone.' Clark passed his binoculars and called Professor.

Once in front of me, she stood casually with her hands clasped in front of her. “Roanne, I am curious to know if your aforementioned progress has had anything to do with the professor,” her calm demeanor made me admire her. "Professor Grant," I began, my voice steady despite the tremor I felt inside, "he's close to slipping up. There are whispers, receipts… a trail leading somewhere dark, and I have a new connection that is helping me achieve this." My heart hammered against ribs that felt too constrictive, each beat urging me to spill the secrets I'd been gathering.

“The word on the tundra is that Professor James Hough’s protégé was a genius who surpassed him! Give me the name!” “I won’t. The Professor kept his secrets for a reason.” The voice on the tape sent a fresh jolt of agony through me. It was Wesley! “Is that so? Since you want to be a martyr, I’ll start taking you apart piece by piece and sending the scraps to the most likely candidates. Let’s see how long she stays hidden.” The voice of the interrogator was a low, chilling growl—the sound of a rogue who had lost all humanity. Then came the sickening thud of a blade hitting a block, followed by a scream that tore through the speakers.