Me My Mine Mga Nobela at Kwento

me up. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mine to keep. And nobody touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale.

All mine. It has an amazing ring to it.

Dean stopped his search and followed me outside. I tore it open to check the details inside. Inside this paper box were tons of drugs. They smelt like drugs but not the kinds of drugs I made. The research I've been doing also hasn't brought out good results or started producing drugs. They smelt funny. I took out a packet of the drug and opened it. It was meth! What the hell was meth doing in my warehouse? I stood up angrily. Dean had been beside me watching me quietly. "What is that, Your Majesty?" He asked.

Evelyn looked at me, seeing my reaction. “You will get used to it, she told me calmly. I giggled softly. No way am I getting used to it. And I wasn’t. How can anyone get used to something like this? “This mansion is… stunning.” I said, gazing all around me. It belongs to Mr. Valois, Evelyn said, with a small smile on her face. So, that was his name, Mr. Valois. Mr. Valois is not here at the moment, she explained. He left for his work. Later tonight, you’ll meet him.”

Then I typed: ME: Maybe.**

I open the bag. A key glints in my palm. Old-fashioned, heavy, not a practical key at all—one of those glossy, romantic replicas, long neck, ornate head cut into a heart if you tilt it, into a blade if you don't. A tiny metal tag hangs from black thread: MINE on one side, TO KEEP on the other. The room tilts. Sound drops out to a pinpoint. The kettle clicks in the kitchen; I'd forgotten I'd put it back on. My phone buzzes with a calendar ping. The spreadsheet waits on my screen.