Historial Novels & Stories

He comes in with a file in his hands, as I expect. I spoke to him on the phone earlier, but this is the first time I’ve seen him today. “Good morning, Max,” I say, extending my hand. “Good morning, sir,” he replies. Holding up the file, he says, “A quick search gave me more than enough proof that Thompson is doing exactly what you suspected. I’ve got five pages of reports from just the last two weeks that show the majority of the time he is on the clock here at Merriweather and Associates he’s cruising porn sites and looking for escorts, not working.”

My mind shifted it's focus to an article that I had read on social media earlier today, Twitter to be precise. It was about the multi Billionaire CEO of Sparta Enterprises, named Simon Lawson. Apparently, he was getting married in a few days, to some mystery girl that no one had any idea about. When the media asked him for his reason for keeping the identity of the girl he was getting married to a secret, his response, was that he just didn't want people harrassing her. It was a sweet response, that made me smile when I read it; how sweet of him.

Thanks for reading ❤️‼️ Hope y'all are enjoying the book❤️💯‼️ Double updating today‼️

; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}

Kaori-nee was a good cook and the food did not allow me to make a distasteful face at him. “That much?” Hiro-san chuckled, raking a hand through his dyed light hair. I still haven’t figured out whether calling it white or silver or grey or a really light shade of black (which would mean that it wasn’t black) would do it justice. Either way, it suited him. It complimented his eyes. “Do you miss playing basketball so much?” “Mm. Not really. I hadn’t really thought about it. The last time that I played was in university. The dream just made me remember it. That’s all.”

Sage led the way, his steps confident as he approached the concierge desk, where a friendly attendant stood ready to assist. “Welcome to the King's Hotel,” the attendant greeted them with a warm smile. “How may I assist you today?” “We have a reservation under the name of Smith,” Sage replied, his voice tinged with excitement. The attendant's fingers danced across the keyboard, swiftly pulling up their reservation details. “Ah, yes, Mr. Smith. Welcome back,” he said, his tone tinged with familiarity. “We have your table ready for you, along with a few complimentary amenities to enhance your stay.”

Mary replied with pursed lips. " Why? What happened to her? " " Hm... Boss, at that point where you were in dire need of blood. Madame was the only one available to donate blood to you. " " How...? " " She's AB negative. " " I know... But why...? " For some reason, Aiden felt very guilty knowing that Malisa had to donate her blood to him... " Well... She was the one who insisted on donating her blood to you... "

I finished. Our eyes met. For the first time since arriving in Switzerland, something colder than strategy passed between us. History. Lucien suddenly froze. "...Uh." Never a good sound. Rowan's voice sharpened instantly. "What is it?" Lucien zoomed in on the reconstruction. A cluster of old records flickered onto the screen heavily buried, deep archive material that most systems wouldn't even index without top-tier clearance. I went very still. I recognized the timestamp format instantly. Not corporate. Not financial.

“That’s strange.” Steve walked over. “What?” “There’s almost nothing attached to it.” “Run the historical records.” Dan pulled up the archived database. The search began. A few seconds passed. Then the results appeared. Dan scrolled. “Three years.” Steve moved closer. “Keep going.” “Four.” Another page. “Five.” Dan continued. “Six.” “Seven.” “Eight.” He stopped. Steve looked at him. “What?” Dan opened another archive. “Nine.” Steve’s expression changed.

But Noor was lost, he was back again, to make her life a living hell, because now he came for a permanent stay. Unconsciously she began remembering the day he left two years back, the bite mark he left on her. It was completely healed, but what he said was true, the mark was still there. Every single time she looked at herself in the mirror, the mark never forgot to bring tears in her eyes. And with that every single time she was reminded of him, how he did it, how he said those words, how he looked at her. The way he touched her. Every time everything left a bitter taste. She would feel disgusted by her own self, her own zaat.