It Wasn't Me It Was The One Armed Man Novels & Stories

There was another man beside me now. Ross stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at me. His voice shook as he asked, "This is...?" "I'm Jennifer's husband. And you are?" Douglas Hubbert, my husband, shot Ross a look of irritation, already bracing himself to throw a punch if necessary. "Y-you're married?!" Ross couldn't believe it. I almost didn't want to answer him, but then I realized that all of that—everything that had happened—had long faded into the past, like dust blown away by the wind.

Then, he was gone. The man rolled himself into the room. I hesitated for only a moment. As I walked away, the door closed behind me with a firm bang. I took in the luxury room for only a second before he spoke, "I expect nothing less than the best, or forget about getting paid a cent!" "A shiver ran down my spine. This was it. My first time. My very first time. And with a stranger… in a wheelchair. A wave of unease washed over me, a mix of fear and something else I couldn't quite name.

Uno said, gesturing to one of his men, who immediately unbound the man but restrained him from behind. The man started to panic as Uno stood, picked up a small hatchet from the table, and approached him. "No, Master Uno! Please have mercy! I promise I won't do it again, I'll never do it again, Master Uno!" the man begged, crying, as Piero held one of his arms, presenting it to Uno. "You should have fucking thought first what would fucking happen to you when you betrayed me," Uno said, his voice filling the small warehouse as the man screamed when Uno chopped off his arm.

The next moment, Oskar Armstrong’s assistant was brought over as soon as he waved his hand. A man in a white suit drew out a watermelon knife and chopped off the assistant’s left arm. Ugh! The assistant convulsed with pain and kept rolling on the ground. However, he did not beg for mercy. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said, “Senior Armstrong, you can’t help him. The Americans are shameless. Even if you did operate on him, he would never let you go.” “Keep quiet. Slap him!” Butler Yates said coldly.

Luckily, we are at a party. Unnoticed, they vanished out from our side. Oh shit! I couldn't feel any tears in my eyes as if there were no more water to cry out. "Don't tell me you are going to cry from that, Dreanna? You don't even know them." "Huh?" Now, what is this guy spattering? Is he having a crack on his head? Why I couldn't read him. He changed from a total sweetheart to a deadass insensitive man. "I told you, I am Erina!" I argued.

Uno, in his white polo and black slacks, is holding a glass of brandy with his eyes staring at me, his jaw clenching hard, and his lips in a grim line. My heart started to beat wildly as I faced Dylan–and what the fuck? "What? Why? Don't you want to dance anymore?" An unfamiliar brown-eyed man spoke in a different accent, telling me that he is not a Filipino. "Excuse me? Who are you?" I glared. The man raised his brows but was then followed by a playful expression. "I'm–" "No need to introduce yourself, skank. I'm getting my wife." Uno's voice behind me made my legs tremble in fear and embarrassment. I shut my eyes close and let myself walk behind him when he pulled my wrist away from the gu

My breath caught. Even with the dim lighting, the face was unmistakable. I froze. So did Rico. We stared at each other, exchanging a silent Do you see what I’m seeing? look. The old man didn’t seem to notice our confusion. He gently pulled back the blanket—and my stomach turned. The man’s left arm was gone. The wound was wrapped, but the injury was unmistakable—the missing limb, the pale skin. It was horrifying enough on its own, but the real shock came with recognition.

the man in charge finally spoke up with a sinister grin before turning to the other men, shrugging his shoulders in victory. However, I wasn't quite sure what was going through my mind as I grabbed hastily onto his arm with both hands and slipped my foot behind his ankle. With my swift reflexes, I pushed his arm back, pulling him off balance to the point that he met the dirt of the grass with my hands still wrapped firmly around his bicep.