House Of Cards Novels & Stories

"There's three hundred thousand on this card. No PIN needed. Two hundred thousand to pay you back, and another hundred thousand for interest. For the last decade." I paused, then added, "Thank you. When I found out, I was really touched." Finally reacting, Jessica hurriedly waved her hands in protest. "No, you don't have to. Just think of it as…" I cut her off, "Debts need to be repaid. As for my gratitude? If you ever need me, I'll do whatever it takes to help." I pushed the card into her hand before she could object again. Jessica pursed her lips as she held the card helplessly, then said hoarsely, "Seb, we…"

The slam of the cardoor was deafening. I moved towards the door of the building, the bricks were a striking red color, and the building was three stories tall. The ones on the ground level had a bit of a garden as well, where all we had was a small balcony. I had tried to grow so many different things there, but it either got too much sun or not enough sun. I simply didn’t have the green thumb.

She told Diana that she shouldn't open the door if it wasn't her card that is slipped into the machine. Outside the house,a security machine was available with cards given to the occupants of the house. Their name and picture already registered unto the card. If the occupants are leaving,the owner of the house would simply wipe away every information on the card. Inside the house was another recognition machine. Once the person outside slips his or her card in..every information would show on the one inside. That way Diana would know if it is Hailey or not. She nodded once she understood and waved Hailey goodbye.

He seems skeptical but agrees. The next few days I spend doing chores around the house and an alarming amount of baking. I enjoy baking and cooking, but this is the first time I have been on a baking spree. I can't explain it but the need to back down is almost a compulsion. I just want to go back and clean. I am pulling another cake and batch of cookies out of the oven when I hear the door open. I assume it is Bo and keep going about my business of taking things out of the oven and sliding in the next items that are ready to go into the oven. I turn around when finished and almost jump when I see Drake. I immediately become aware of how little clothing I have on, just a tank and some short

I mean there’s no way that ghost are real right? With that in thought, Blaine decided to head downstairs and get a glass of water. He pass by the hallways and notice that there’s a lot of painting in this house. He never know of this fact because eversince he move in this house, he never really look around. He will go at work when the sun is not yet rising and he will go home late at night. Plus the fact that they rarely turn on the lights so he didn’t really have the chance to saw the paintings that are hanging in the wall.

shе askеd, hеr voicе tingеd with confusion and disbеliеf. "It's a gamе bеtwееn Janе and hеr siblings. It's a billionairе gamе of Hеarts, Mary. You arе thе chеssboard," I еxplainеd, my tonе sombеr as I triеd to convеy thе gravity of thе situation. Mary's nod sееmеd to wavе away thе truth, hеr mind pеrhaps unablе to fully grasp thе еxtеnt of Janе's actions.

I had spent the better part of the morning wandering aimlessly, trying to familiarize myself with the place. There were endless halls, grand rooms, and ornate furniture that probably cost more than my former apartment. Every now and then, I’d find a door that led to another room full of paintings or some kind of antique collection. Who even lived like this? By the time I reached the library—a sprawling space with shelves that reached the ceiling—I was already exhausted. I sat down in one of the oversized leather chairs and looked around, wondering if I’d ever feel at home here. *** The preparations for the wedding had turned the house into a revolving door of visitors. Event planners, floris

When those filled, I used a mixing bowl. By noon, the house looked like a deranged rain symphony. I laughed — half-crazy, half-hysterical. “You know what? Fine. It’s character. The house is crying with me. We’re bonding.” The power flickered that afternoon — a single bulb in the hallway came to life like a ghost deciding to say hi. I celebrated with a peanut butter sandwich and a victory dance that made the floorboards groan ominously. Then, for fun, I checked for Wi-Fi.

I, Gianna Johnston, am born into a family of prodigies. My dad, Henry Johnston, is a computer science professor from Hafford University. My mom, Naomi Liddell, is a medical professor at Starvard University. And my brother, George Johnston, is an international math olympiad champion. Meanwhile, I'm barely passing my math classes at school. George gets so mad at me that he immediately writes down three full sets of math exam questions and exclaims, "You're so dumb that you're nothing but an embarrassment to Mom and Dad and me! "Don't you even think about leaving the house and embarrassing us again without completing all these math questions!" Mom then forces a few pills straight down my t

He pushed the door open with a steady cannon and stepped into the darkness of the empty house. Inside, the house was silent, save for the faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath his boots. In the living room, a small, broken television sat on a worn table, facing a solitary wooden chair. Various farm tools lay scattered across the ground and hung on the walls: a rusty fork, a heavy hammer, an axe, a crow's crook, and several sharp-edged gardening implements. The air smelled of dust, mustiness, and something metallic—the stench of blood from some past disaster.