Monochrome Rumors Novels & Stories

Late afternoon light had gone flat and grey over the white ground. He didn't turn when I came in. But he knew I was there. "He'll talk about that anglerfish for weeks," he said. "It's earned," I said. "It genuinely is a remarkable animal." A small silence. "Thank you," Julien said. "For the anglerfish?" "For listening to him." He turned then, just slightly, enough that I could see his profile against the window light. "He doesn't always have people who listen the way you do."

I like him a lot—his charm, his fire, the way he’d lean close, whiskey in hand and grunt “Sheila, you’re the one I trust.” Now Monroe’s turned that into a trap, a noose tightening fast. The photos burn my vision—Moretti, Ricci, Voss—blood I’ve dodged, stories I’ve softened, chasing Jeremy’s glow. The seven million’s not bribes, not cash drops, just years of favors, exclusives, a debt I didn’t see ‘til now. My chest heaves, a sob breaking free, and I curl tight, shaking, exhaustion crashing with terror. Sleep’s gone—Monroe’s voice loops, that snap echoing, those pictures searing my brain. Jeremy’s fighting, Mama’s still, and I’ve stood watch, but this?

Halfway through, I felt it again. That shift of awareness, like someone was watching. My voice almost faltered, but I held it together, pushing through the note until the very end. Silence followed. “Better,” Smith said after a moment. “Much better.” I nodded, but I wasn’t really listening. My eyes had already drifted back to the closed door where Drake had come through. It didn’t just feel like he was gone. I glanced up at the dark glass above the studio. I could sight a reflection that was not our reflection.

“Tell me the truth, Robyn, what’s the color of your problem?” I feign innocence as I shrug my shoulder. “White?” Monique looks at me, her mouth slightly open as she throws her hands in the air. “I think it’s blue,” I say, grinning at my friend. “You’re fucking annoying, you know that, right?” I roll my eyes and pick up the TV remote to resume my serial killer documentary on N*****x. Monique snatches the remote from my hand and glares at me. “Seriously, Robyn. What the fuck? Why are you turning down something as sexy as this? We’re talking about Dominique Gray. Good sex and no commitment. Every girl would kill for a deal as this.”

The lull in the Maine house was no longer peaceful. It was an empty space, and nature, the press, abhorred an empty space. By half-morning, it had been taken over by a low, constant thrum—the hum of rumor building to a roar. It started on the money networks. Men in well-tailored suits stood before monitors split between the Roberts Global stock ticker (still struggling) and Clarkson's corporate headshot official photo, their analysis biting and pure.

Xavier clasped his arms behind him waiting for an answer. "Hmmm" Stone mumbled as he gently massaged his jaw. "I see what you have there, but there's a problem" Xavier arched his brow at Stone trying to figure out what the problem might be. "Moon works with no one. He is a one-man squad. I will notify him of the situation, but you can continue with your search party while he's on his." He gestured to the girls to continue their massage and immediately Xavier let out a slight bow and took his leave.

Very interesting. “Sorry,” Marcus said carefully. “But the press is outside again.” Exhaustion crashed through me. “Already?” Marcus nodded grimly. “There are also rumors spreading online.” Fear crept back. “What rumors?” Marcus hesitated, then looked toward Damien before answering. “The media thinks you and Damien are hiding a relationship.” Silence filled the room. My stomach knotted instantly. Because the terrifying part was that the lines between scandal and real emotion were starting to blur dangerously fast.

"He has a perverted brain!" "Mr. Dominik is a handsome, wealthy Caucasian, it's normal for his brain to be perverted when Rico is so inappropriate," said Monica, who immediately received a sharp glare from her best friend's dark irises. Monica immediately pursed her lips as she forced a smile at her best friend; she was wrong to have offended the jerk.

The room felt colder without her presence, but no less suffocating. I did not want my wife. I could not touch her. I could not even pretend anymore. All I saw when I closed my eyes was Chloe. That truth settled heavily in my chest. My phone rang. The sound cut through the silence sharply. I looked at the screen. Marcus. I answered immediately. “Sir,” he said. His voice was tense. “We have a situation.” My body tightened. “What kind.” “The rumors are back,” he replied. “They are spreading fast.”

“Where did this false information come from?” Conan hurriedly put his phone in his pocket and said to Mona, "Some idiots are spreading rumors online. Don't look now; I've got it.” He then stepped to the window and made a call, frowning the whole time. Conan ridiculed her a lot, yet he was the Gray family's heir. Why had he suddenly grown so serious? Mona thought about it for a moment before checking her phone. The most popular topic on T*****r was #Sydney Pregnancy#, which was accompanied by a giant red "Breaking" symbol.