Is Max Mayfield Dead Novels & Stories

"That we'd end up here?" "Definitely. She planned everything else." My phone rang. Maya. "Turn on the news. Right now." The headline read: "Catherine Mills Found Dead in Holding Cell—Apparent Suicide." But underneath: "Investigators Find Evidence of Second Conspirator Still at Large." Alex grabbed my hand. "Damien…." "I know.”

Sliding her slim finger to the phone to take the call, she could hear Harry's family wailing from the background. “ Harry, tell me this is not true. Those pictures aren't Maya’s right? Tears stifled Eleanor deep inside as she struggled between believing what she saw. “ Eleanor,” Harry called with pain in his voice. “It's true. It had just been reported that Maya died on her way to the airport. We are yet to claim her body but were told that it has been taken to the morgue by the police” Harry’s voice struck coldly, bleeding with anguish and a lost hope.

Finally on what felt like the hundredth time, she picked my call. “ Hello….” But that wasn't Emelia's voice. “ Hi, please I want to talk to the owner of thr phone.” “ Hi, Cassius's this May.” “Hi May, can you please pass the phone to Emelia? I need to talk to her about something important.” “ Am very sorry, she won't be able to talk to you…..” She heaved loudly “ Why?” “ Actually…….. Maverick is dead,” she said, her voice cracking.

The officer's words hit the courtyard like a charge. "Dead?" The color was already going out of Tristan's face. "You said May is dead?" The officer glanced at him. His tone was flat. "Yes. The owner of this house. May Fairfax. Time of death roughly seven days ago. The neighbors called us in because no one had come or gone for a long time. We found the body. The initial assessment is suicide. Multiple injuries on the body. The fatal wound was to her wrist. She lost too much blood."

“ I haven't been able to speak to May or Maxine since that day. I thought they left early but then I called May and she wasn't picking up. I also called May but she didn't pick up. May called me while I was at the ice cream parlor. She said her grandmother just died and she had gone for a burial. The thing is May knew only one grandma and she died six years ago.. I think they're in danger as well." Max flew out of his seat to his phone. He was obviously calling her but I knew she wouldn't pick up. That morning, when I woke up, I had suspected something had happened but I just didn't know what exactly to do. Max leaned on his table and breathed loudly. The next thing we heard was his phone br

Maya turned back to Marcus. “Take me to the prison tomorrow,” she said. “I need to see that man.” Marcus nodded. He did not argue this time. But before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed. He read the message and his face changed. He showed Maya the screen. It was a message from one of his men. “The mechanic was found dead in his cell ten minutes ago. Someone got to him before we could.” Maya stared at the words. Her hands started to shake.

Like his son, he convulsed in pain like his head was going to explode. Kayson left the mansion and called Michael. “Patrick and Hector Allen, as well as a so-called Master Jo, are dead. Can you take care of it?” Michael seemed to be doused in extreme shock as Kayson failed to receive any response as half a minute lapsed. “Mr. Whitman?” he repeated with furrowed brows. It was only then Michael replied hastily, “Yes! Of course! “But Mr. Yarde, the head of the Allens, Tuckson, might go berserk due to Patrick’s death…”

I was sure the moment he finds his type he would forget about me and move on quicker than his promises. "Thank you Max for telling me," I smile leaning into my chair, I turned to the window looking outside as I brought out my phone scrolling through the news page to see any new updates. It was like the whole Brianna's death was just wiped off completely, no news channel or page was reporting about it even the rumor of my marriage to Aiden had died down but I suspected Aiden had told them too, I was about to check another page when I heard a loud gunshot. My heart skipped a beat then started racing as I looked up to see Max staying calm and focused.

--- Maya Price had been thirty-one years old when she died. Financial journalist. Sharp, meticulous, the kind of writer who spent six months on a story before she was willing to put her name on it. She had worked for a mid-sized investigative outlet — not the largest platform, but respected, the kind of publication that serious people took seriously. She had been found in her apartment five years ago. The official cause was blunt force trauma. The case had remained open and inactive for four of those five years.