Monochrome Rumors Novels & Stories

It immediately called for my attention as the subject was a single dark heart and three continuous dots. The hell? What was that supposed to mean? Dear Becca Monroe, It would probably take a while before you open this mail but I'll be patient enough until you read what I have to say, I'll cut to the chase. I'm the doctor who attended to you when you were six and an old couple brought you to my hospital after they found you bleeding near a railway station. You might be wondering what happened, I do too but I may have an idea. Since nineteen years ago, ever since you were admitted here, I never stopped checking on your brain scans. Together with a neurosurgeon, Mikael Baldowski, we discovered

"You're defending him already?" "I'm correcting inaccurate statements." "Uh-huh." Ines finally emerges from her room, carrying a notebook filled with what I suspect is poetry. She sits beside me, quiet as always. Ines Moreau has the kind of calm presence that makes people instinctively lower their voices. "What are we discussing?" she asks softly. "Professor Hale," Priya announces. Ines glances at me. "And why exactly are we discussing Céline's professor?" "Because he's apparently devastatingly attractive."

Why is it that the mermaid in your painting really looks like Juno? It was such a good thing that I memorized her limousine’s plate number. I made a promise to myself that I would be able to find her, sooner than expected. [Copyright© Nihc Ronoel] “The car was owned by Ondrea Laxamana, bro!” said Jerome, my college buddy who was now the Finance Director at Montecillo Group. I called him over the phone and gave him Drey Laxamana’s plate number. Montecillo Group of Companies or MGC mostly handled the land transportation in Manila as well as all documents related to private car registrations. Though, their main business was all about construction.

I went straight to the bathroom after I entered. I waited for the one woman in the bathroom to leave. I leaned on my hands while I looked into the mirror. "Remi," I whispered. The lights flickered and dimmed. "We really need to stop meeting like this," came his deep gravelly voice from behind me. In the mirror I could see his dark form. The red ember flew about his shoulder. "Do you recommend some other place I can meet you?" He shrugged. "What do you want?" "How do I get my mother's blood?"

Paris, again. The sun filtered through the tall windows of Amara’s apartment, but she hadn’t noticed the light all morning. The news of Liam’s near slip with his ex had reached her like a slap in a silent room. Not from him. From Monroe, of all people—whose inbox, apparently, was still full of Blackwood gossip and whose lips were always poised for a scoop. "They were at the Ritz," Monroe had said casually, like she was talking about a business meeting. "Two drinks in, and apparently, her hands were not where they should have been."

Adjusting Justus in his arms , Marcus glanced towards Rithambara only to find creases of tension on her forehead while her eyes were transfixed on something. "Your highness! I can see something bothering you? May I get to know what is it? " The pause was so heavy that Marcus felt that Ritha didn't hear the question and he was about to repeat when Ritha moved her heated gaze from the suspect towards Marcus and spoke with an identified determination, "Today, either truth would paint future's canvas or despicable red would be the only prominent colour " (Author's Note : here despicable red colour symbolises impure blood of the conspirators. Gosh! I was forever stuck on this line and kept pacing

I opened my notepad to list another very important line of action with my small smile morphing into a full on grin. Centre of excellence, the Badmus' are coming for you. ⭐ AN: Mike's POV comes next and fortunately, you don't have to wait :) Till we meet again folks, I really do love you, ✌illusionistic.

My name is Elora and I reside at the Blue Mountain Packhouse. I have a slim figure, long curly blonde hair which I usually wear up in a bun so it is out of my face. My eyes are a deep blue which I love. I am not a normal girl though. You see I am a shewolf, my rank at the packhouse is an omega. I don’t know my parents because they passed away when I was just a tiny baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. The only thing I have is a necklace locket from my mother. I have never taken it off because it makes me feel close to her spirit.

That’s all I can promise. Her face lights up again. “Any word from the Blonde One?” “Said it might take longer than expected and she'd add more to the paycheck. Then poof. Radio silence.” Britney raises a brow. “She’s probably on the run from the Illuminati. Or hiding a secret baby.” She grins and pulls a protein bar from her bag. “Or buried someone with a Moncler coat hanger.” We're still laughing when a notification buzzes on my phone: Reminder: JONES FOUNDATION GALA - TONIGHT, 8PM

It has computers everywhere, with red and blue lights giving the room a cool look. Marcus reclined on his seat, it had tires underneath so he was swaying it gently, he wore his headphones as it played music, helping him think, but all he thought about was Monalisa and the fact that he hasn't seen her in weeks. Susanna was frequently coming with the excuse of meeting Polaria just to hang out with him but he refused all her advances, not wanting to talk to her about what happened that night. He decided to go to Monalisa's I*******m account, turns she doesn't post her pictures, at least the thought of it being her account can help him out, he kept scrolling, when she made a new post.