Liane Moriarty Novels & Stories

I tuck the few strands of hair which has fallen off the clip behind my ears, looking around I move myself to the first row bench. I take my seat beside the lady seated next to the man, her blonde hair pulled up to a neat high bun, her skinny legs crossed the point of the heel getting contact with me. I clear my throat as I lean over to my right closer to her and whisper "Excuse me, your heel," I point at her shoe. The hazel eyes takes a glimpse of me, she purses her red velvet lips as she rolls her big eyes and moves her leg. She is Tira Liam, A lawyer who will do anything to win a case. It's tragic that a beauty like her has committed a quite number of murder yet not caught red handed.

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."

I knew. She always came in alone. Late. Eyes darting like she was keeping track of exits. Her tray never full—just a sandwich, sometimes tea. And her badge, tucked slightly behind her coat lapel like she was trying not to be noticed. But I noticed. Lia Moreno. Junior lab personnel. Nervous hands, lowered gaze, constantly checking the time. That girl knew something. She had to. The way she avoided eye contact with the senior staff. The way she hunched her shoulders like she carried secrets in them.

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.