Loid Forger Novels & Stories

To repay Victor for saving my life, I gave up a brilliant career as one of America's finest neurosurgeons and willingly became his trophy wife. For seven years, Victor lavished money on me and treated me with bone-deep tenderness. Yet his obsessive rules suffocated me. Every other week, I had to subject my scalp to agonizing bleach treatments to keep my hair icy platinum. I had to bathe in a discontinued Venetian white iris perfume. And I had to wear a fake beauty mark at the corner of my right eye. I once mistook it all for the obsessive devotion of a Mafia Don. Then, on the eve of our wedding of the century, I found a wall covered with portraits of another woman. The measurements of my gow

Elena, who had clearly been watching longer than he had understood. He called Cooper from the window while Jules stood behind him in the lobby radiating a very controlled, very quiet kind of devastation, and Cooper confirmed the forgery in eleven minutes. Marcus Veil. Elena's lawyer. A forged authorization with Adam's signature — good work, professional, close enough to fool a clerk but not close enough to fool a forensic examiner. Cooper had both the file and the original authorization template they had used within the same day. "She's building a case file against herself at this point," Cooper said, and there was a flatness in it that was not satisfaction, just tired resignation.

“Looks like I’ll have to depend on Cordelia… Hah, Xyla’s a good teacher. The daughter she has taught bewitches men easily! Mr. Zephyr’s completely enthralled by her!” “Depend on Cordelia?” Fredric raised a brow. “But she’s not your birth daughter.” “How is she not?” William brandished the DNA test result. “Look. Didn’t you get someone to forge this?” Fredric pretended to go over for a look and asked him with emphasis, “Forged?” “Yeah, you forged it!” William rolled his eyes and kept the document carefully. “Did you forget what you made?” “Oh, I remember!” Fredric smiled. “Yeah, I did get someone to forge it.

Only now, there were no secrets…. There was no denying I had missed my friends. I just hoped they missed me, and could forgive me. I nodded. “I think you may be right.” “Nico is now married with a young baby. And Freddie has just taken a chosen mate. So there would no doubt a lot to catch up on. I am sure the two of them would be delighted to know you have found a chosen mate too.” Dad said with a smile, as he glanced toward Presley. A chosen mate... Of course, that was what they believed she was. A wave of guilt flooded through me. I suddenly felt bad for lying. They had no clue that what they believed was nothing but a created story to gain my own way…

Someone had been forging it. My stomach dropped. "Moon Goddess." Jeremy looked equally horrified. "They forged your approval." I grabbed another file, and another, and another. The evidence piled up into dozens of reports, maybe hundreds, every single one of them carrying an imitation of my signature. Whoever did this had studied me carefully. The realization sent chills down my spine. This wasn't just corporate theft anymore, this was deeply personal. Jeremy slammed a file shut. "They planned this. They've been planning this for years."

“We make it public that they were funneling deals through Heti merchants. We present the merchant complaints, the private investigator’s ledger and the broken contracts. We hit them where it hurts; credibility and money. If they lose reputation and funds, their allies scatter.” Gregory’s jaw tightens. “Good. Fast and clean strikes. No theatrics.” “No theatrics,” I agree. “Only law. The CIP can shout, but we’ll be precise. We won’t let emotion drown the proof.” I gather the photocopies of the handwriting comparisons, my neat legal notes beside the forged letter and set them in a neat stack. “If the judges see the ink, then the place it was bought, then the witness who handled it, they will se

“It was forged.” My body goes cold. “Forged?” “Yes,” he says. “Completely fabricated.” I let out a short laugh. “No. That’s not—no, I’ve seen that will, Languini. You showed it to me yourself. I burned my copy once. Dorothy burned hers. You kept the master copy in the vault.” He nods slowly. “And the master copy is the forgery.” “You’re telling me… the will my entire life has revolved around—the one I fought for, the one I—” I stop myself before I say created and destroyed my marriage for. “That was fake?”

No. I lifted my phone with my bruised hand, swiped it open. The photos glared back at me. Letters. Numbers. Signatures that stank of lies. My ribs throbbed as I bent forward, zooming in, heart pounding like fists against a door. A misprint. A wrong digit in the lab’s address. Sloppy. Valerio was many things, but careful with truth wasn’t one of them. He forged it. He lied. The pain in my body melted into heat that wasn’t just pain anymore. It was hunger. Hunger for her, hunger for truth, hunger to rip his lies apart with my bare hands.

His fingers cramped as he flipped it open. One glance. Two sentences of text. His name. Thomas Moretti’s name. No biological match. The ground beneath his feet trembled. The words were biting and useless. His fingers gripped the paper so tightly it crinkled. No. No, this was a forgery—a lie. “Where the hell did you get this crap?” Angelo’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. Max stepped forward, lowering his tone. “You think I would fake something like this?"

With a sudden, sharp, and violent motion of his arm, Michael threw the object flat onto the polished white marble floorboards right before Amelia's face. The object struck the stone with a loud, metallic clatter that echoed hollowly against the towering floor-to-ceiling glass panels like a gunshot. It was the mass-produced consumer retail long-range USB network injection dongle—the exact thirty-dollar plastic box Amelia had physically hidden behind the louvered door of the eastern gallery utility closet. Its small green circuit board was exposed through the warped, heat-damaged plastic casing, the microscopic indicator lights completely dead and cold under the brilliant morning sun. It lay f