Liane Moriarty Mga Nobela at Kwento

Even in such a humiliating situation, she didn't want to show too much vulnerability in front of Cline, like a wounded but still defiant creature. Dressed properly, she got out of the car. Just as she was about to leave, Cline called out to her. Luana's steps faltered for a moment, and when she turned around, her face was full of smiles, "Mr. Moriarty, you wouldn't really miss me, would you?" Cline didn't even look at her, throwing a check directly onto her face. "For sleeping with me for five years, this is your well-deserved service f*e."

She wore the seat belt and turned her head to Mark. “Today was not a good day, Mark,” Lily stated. “Why? What happened?” Mark was inquisitive. “There is this woman who runs an orphanage. Her name is Alieana MacGavin. I went there for reporting. She is accused of murdering 5 people and burying them in the old building nearby the orphanage she owns. I asked a few people there and they all were saying that Miss MacGavin is a kind woman and cannot kill anyone. But the CCTV footage was saying otherwise,” Lily with a tensed expression spoke.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard for almost a minute before I typed the name. Liana Moreau. The search results flooded the screen. She was a model. A very successful one. French-Algerian, with striking features, long dark hair, and piercing green eyes. There were hundreds of photos. Runway shots, magazine covers, campaigns for luxury brands. She had been everywhere a few years ago. But as I scrolled deeper, the tone changed. Articles from gossip sites and fashion blogs mentioned her sudden disappearance from the industry. “Liana Moreau’s Mysterious Breakdown,” one headline read. Another: “What Happened to the Face of Parisian Glamour?”

Rebecca Morrison, dead at twenty-eight from organ failure. Jennifer Morrison, dead at thirty-one from autoimmune complications. Michelle Morrison, dead at twenty-six from kidney failure. And now Lily Morrison, slowly dying of mysterious symptoms that doctors can't properly diagnose. The pattern is clear once you know what to look for. Alex finds wealthy women, marries them, isolates them, then kills them slowly in ways that look like natural deaths. He's been doing it for over a decade, moving from state to state, changing his identity slightly each time to avoid detection.

Liam pushed through it and found Morgana Prescott waiting for him. She was a woman who defied easy descriptions. Maybe forty, maybe fifty. Blonde hair that fell in waves past her shoulders. Eyes that were either green or blue depending on the light. She wore a black dress that probably cost five thousand dollars and made it look casual. A martini sat on the table in front of her, untouched, the olive speared on a silver pick. "Liam Sinclair." Her voice was smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "You're late." "Traffic."

......"Lily Martini?" Nadia read out the name on the DME card "You have a DiCaprio Mafia Empire card, only those that work there have the card, do you work there?" Nadia asked as she handed the card to Lily "Yeah I do, I work as a digital designer though I'm currently suspended, do you work there too?" Lily asked....... "Lily Martini?" Nadia repeated the name as she remembered a lady bearing the same name that she had encountered at the hospital John works at

She had spent the entire night rereading his message: “Don’t decide yet. Just imagine what you could do if the world finally saw you the way I do.” The problem was, she had imagined it. And it was terrifyingly beautiful. That morning, Liana entered the studio earlier than usual. She needed calm. Control. But calm was the one thing she didn’t get. Her assistant practically ran toward her. “Miss Carver, you have… visitors.” Liana blinked. “Visitors?” The assistant nodded, nervous. “Mr. Cross and Mr. Moretti.” Her stomach sank. Aiden Cross and Viktor Moretti. Both.

Morrison We had to come back early and I was not happy about it. Liam called and said that we needed to come back because something had happened. We were still setting up the trap to kidnap Aliya, Tallyn, and Lailani when I got his call. We left the next day and got back late last night. I could tell by the way he sounded that something bad had happened but I had no idea what. I hadn’t heard of any attacks in the area so I didn’t think it was that. I sit up and that is when I notice that my little mate is not in the bed next to me. I stand up and walk into the bathroom. I can tell by her scent that she was here not too long ago. I take a quick shower and pull on some light clothes.

Natali Hye Chen sat behind her desk in the marketing division, her eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of her. On the display was a photo—taken from the charity gala security footage—of Kayla Reeds standing beside Jordan More, their hands just barely touching as they watched Qing Lin dance with Liam. Natali had been collecting information on Kayla for weeks, ever since she’d spilled coffee on her hand in the break room. Something about the woman had rubbed her the wrong way from the start—too quiet, too determined, too close to Liam for Natali’s liking.

Lily Morrison stood on the deck of the beach house, watching the sunset paint the ocean in shades of orange and pink, and thought: This is exactly what I needed. She was twenty-four, had just quit her soul-crushing corporate job in Manhattan, and had decided to spend the entire summer in this rental on the coast of Maine before figuring out what came next in her life.