Love Morrison Novels & Stories

While picking out a ring in the store, I saw Jonathan Baxter for the first time in six months. The salesperson's cheerful commentary on the diamond ring I was trying on barely reached my ears. My eyes were fixed on him, looking slightly preoccupied across the room. When he noticed the ring on my finger, he walked over, expression cool, and asked, "How come you came alone? I was actually going to surprise you." His tone was casual, but I saw the shopping bag in his hand—a set of diamond necklaces. Not for me. For Chloe Morris.

At the bottom, in neat handwriting: "The Collection - Phase One Complete." "Morrison wasn't working alone," I said. "This was organized. Professional." "You think Alexander Richie was part of it?" "I think Alexander Richie learned from it." I showed him another document. "Morrison died of a heart attack in January 2019. Alexander married his first recorded wife, Sarah Mitchell, in March 2019. Two months later." Mills stared at the timeline. "Like he inherited Morrison's... hobby." "Or his client list." I picked up Jason's phone records, the ones that had been bugging me for days. "Remember that mystery number Jason called the night before he died? I finally tracked it down."

Wearing a white wedding dress, Zara stood before the cameras holding a microphone. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Joseph… The wedding I owed you, I'm giving it back now. Please come back." Far away in another country, Joseph saw the broadcast on television. He simply reached over and turned the TV off, then went back to the quiet life he had chosen. He couldn't be bothered with love that had come too late.

And Morrison wanted to destroy it, to bury it forever. “You’re not working for David Chen,” Cedric said slowly, the realization hitting him hard. “You’re working for the buyers. The ones who don’t want to be found. The powerful ones who paid for those children.” Morrison’s smile faltered for the first time, a crack in her composure. “Very good. Yes. I’m not FBI. I’ve never been FBI. I’m a fixer, hired by very powerful people to make sure the drive never sees the light of day.” She leaned closer, her eyes hard and calculating. “So. Where is it?”

The adviser replied, "Now, you have his son. What if you lose him again?" The king grimaced, "keep your advice full of curses to yourself. This time, I will succeed in wiping them out." When he left, he summoned Connor over", Connor, you know your dad was brutally murdered by the witches years ago, right?" Connor replied, "yes, your majesty.

I subjugate my pain to liquor and weed so I wouldn't think or feel the pain that much, I badly needed to let loose of all that caged my heart in a dark empty sorrowful room. In the process of trying to let go of all the hurt, I hurt Diana. Asides my mother she is all I have left. Even after drinking and smoking so much I couldn't let go of everything happened. The minute my eyes becomes clear and the weed wares off I begin to come to my reality. I wish there was a way I could take the pain away forever, so I wouldn't hurt the innocent people I love. Seeing how deteriorating my trauma got I decided to hire a cousin of mine to run the affairs of my company, so far he has done a good job in han

he thought. There was a resemblance between the girl and the woman, so he figured that they could be a family. The woman was on the slim side though. Lemuel realized that he recognized the man as a Reverend who preached on Television. He generally didn’t like preachers because he had discovered that many of them twisted the scriptures to put money in their pockets. This one though had earned his respect when he heard whispers of how he lived an average lifestyle and spent most of his church funds on charity and missionary work.

Roarke Mark existed and was still running, its access to the Aldrich records intact, the record of Lissa Heyden's discretionary expenditures accumulating in its files with the patient indifference of a system that didn't know it was at the center of anything. Morrison. He'd tried twice more before the clinic visit, the day the nausea had crested into something he could no longer manage without intervention. Both messages unread. The number still active — his contact had confirmed that much, the number was live, it was receiving signal — but nothing returned, nothing, three weeks of nothing that was its own form of communication but that he couldn't yet read cleanly. Morrison going quiet coul

My chest tightened. I was more than familiar with this person: my best friend, Nate Flint. He was also the only one by my side when I died. "Christine Leigh, you killed Jason! How the hell could you get a cancer patient to do a liver transplant? And all for that scumbag Henry? You're a monster!" Nate kicked the door open and grabbed Christine by her collar. The veins on his forehead popped. Christine looked at him calmly and snickered. "Cancer patient? What a great lie. Jason's act failed, so he got you to come here and put on another act? Just let him die then. Consider it a payment to our family for raising him."

But life must go on, and if I had to live my life without Krew, then I had to learn to live it that way. “You’re an amazing singer with an amazing voice, River. Why haven’t you done this before?” “I um, I stopped when my mother passed away. When my dad became recluse. I stopped listening to music, stopped playing. It was the darkest day of my life. I felt like everything fell apart. My world became black and white. Then I had an issue with a powerful man. It ruined me in the end. Two months ago, I met this man again. He taught me a lot of things and pulled me out from that dark life I’d been in for years. He made me play songs. That’s how it started.”