Henry The Secret History Novels & Stories

His chest felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Six years ago, in a small boutique in the pack village, he’d bought a set of three. He’d hidden them in the back of the nursery closet, a secret gift for the child Joshua was carrying. A child he’d been told died on that cliffside. He turned the toy over in his palm. On the bottom, in faded permanent marker, were the initials: H. H. "Henry Harrington," Richard whispered, the name a jagged shard of glass in his throat.

The sword in Henry’s hand was now resting at the other side of the chamber. Slowly the unknown man lifts the mask off his face to reveal himself. Arnold smiles charmingly at the fallen King and crossed his arms over his chest. “Henry, it’s been a long time. I hope you were enjoying all the luxuries for which you so fearlessly stabbed the old King in the back.” Arnold mutters bitterly, making the fallen beast go rigid. This unknown man knew his secret. Henry thought with his heart galloping to be released. Who was this man?

said Harry, who was sitting casually next to Aiden. Two of Harry's men were driving the car, and the other was sitting in the front passenger seat. Harry was the sole heir of a large entertainment and bodyguard training company. "Is it certain that Catherine is being kept there? Aiden asked. "I trust my men won't be mistaken," Harry exclaimed confidently. "You're too confident. I'm afraid this is all Robert's trap," said Aiden. "Tsk. Why are you being so chatty? Harry exclaimed. "Even more so than Mike. It's true that people in love will get out of character."

"Everything you need to know is here. But before you open it, let me tell you this: Henry is using you. Just like he used someone I used to know." "For personal reasons I won't be giving a name, but I need you to at least read through those files." Lily persuaded. Annabelle’s hand hovered over the folder, her brows furrowing. She hesitated before opening the folder. Her expression shifted as she flipped through the photos and documents—photos of Henry with other women, evidence of his secret bank accounts, and messages to the other women with similar backgrounds as her. Replication of the same messages he had sent to her to get her to invest in his business as well as give him part of her co

He then grabbed a chair from beside me and put it in front of me before taking a seat on it so he was just facing me. "Listen up, darling, I've dealt with enough shit for the past years and I'm not in a mood to deal with more so spill the fucking beans already. Tell me where the hell he's hiding and I'll let you go." "Well, darling, I'd like to tell you if I knew who the fuck you're talking about. I've been alive for twenty years now and never have I ever heard of any Joseph or whatever." I replied honestly with a hint of annoyance in my voice. "Unless you're talking about Joseph Morgan. I tell you, that man is so—" he cut me off, "shut up."

Despite myself, I leaned back into him for a brief second. Henry motioned for me to sit, and we settled on opposite sides of the small, weathered table. The room was lit only by a flickering candle, casting long, dancing shadows across our faces. “My world. His world,” Henry said, motioning to Matt. “The world where werewolves exist.” “You know what I am?” Matt asked and it was his turn to sound surprised. Henry let out a snort of laughter. “Of course I know what you are, boy. I also know who you are. I’m still a Screiber,” Henry said, as if that explained everything. I guess it did for Matt because he shook his head, a small smile on his face.

He promised me, he had promised to leave all his illegal work behind. No my Ansh, my Ansh can’t do this to me. I trust him, I trust him with my life. ‘That is why you are still hiding,’ her inner self mocked as her throat ran dry. ‘I know my Ansh will prove me wrong,’ I said to myself as beads of sweat rolled down my spine. The cold chill of terror is not helping at all. I curled myself to the side on the floor of the car so that his graze does not land on me; he drove for a full 30 minutes before he stopped. And walked out of the car.

“Dragons hoard jewels, while this beast hoards gold! This must be the fortune Henry amassed over a thousand years!” “I knew Henry was a hidden tycoon!” Dad froze, his hand trembling as he pointed at Henry. “You… who are you? Who let you in?” Henry calmly moved to my side, instinctively shielding me behind him. Facing Dad’s fury, his expression remained detached and slightly arrogant. “I’m Henry,” he said. “Claire’s boyfriend.” He snapped his fingers. Immediately, the men behind him opened the chests. Gold glimmered, almost blinding me. Bars upon bars of pure gold, not ordinary bullion, but stamped with ancient official seals.

He's wearing dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a baseball cap with a giant B in the center. “You finally ready?” he asks. “Ready for what?” “For your tour of the city.” He holds out his arms and smiles. “Welcome to Boston, I'm Jace Herondale and I'll be your tour guide today.” “Wait, what? I didn't—” “Ask me? I know, my sister did. So, here I am.” He looks down at his phone and pulls the keys from his pocket. “Let's go, I know this great coffee shop up on Newbury Street.”

Ryan nodded in silent agreement, his gaze fixated on the pen recorder as they listened intently to the conversation unfolding from the device. Isabella pressed Henry, asking why he had arrived at her office without prior notice, even going so far as to shut down the CCTV cameras for the sake of secrecy. Henry’s chuckle reverberated through the recording, his voice oozing with a sinister edge as he explained his motive. The anticipation between Ryan and Scarlet thickened as they listened to Isabella probe further, wanting to understand the purpose behind Henry’s secret visit. Henry’s response sent a shiver of apprehension down Scarlet’s spine as he demanded that Isabella provide audio and vid