Montgomery Burns Smithers Novels & Stories

It was the Smith family's drug fields that became the source of their wealth. Patrick Smith's eyes widened in shock and anger. "No! No! What are you doing? Why did you burn my fields and plantations? How do you know? Why are you so cruel?" cried Patrick Smith hysterically. "You also burned down Nick Davis's house and intended to kill him. I don't think some of the burning drug fields are still worth the revenge," Jake said calmly. Ann observed the screen. Her husbands were also taking revenge for her on the Smith family. "Jace, how can Jake burn those fields all over the place?" asked Ann curiously.

I say coldly turning my head to look at Burns as he lingered even closer to Charles who once again didn’t seem too fazed in that moment. “Smith.” Was all I said once Burns didn’t go to stop his journey to Charles, where in an instant just like with Lukas, Smith pulled out his own gun and fired it right at Burns hand who still held the gun, immediately, he drops the gun to the floor and cries in pain as the bullet skimmed his hand. “What the fuck?!” He asked dropping to his knees as his hand began to drip with blood, not enough to kill him but certainly, left him a message to listen to me next time.

I prefer the scowl but am in no mood to deal with it right now. Bringing the heavy bucket of dishes to the hot kitchen, the card seems to burn in my pocket, begging me to use it. I’d looked at it almost my entire break an hour ago. Nothing but a number and first name on it, not telling me much more than I learned in the elevator. I'd turned it over again and again, as if new words would appear on it the more I did it. But no, it remained the same. Lawson, and ten digits. That's all.

“Well, well, well. Touché, Mr. FBI.” She read through the file that was sent to her. Zachary Montgomery, born March 28, 1985, to parents Nathaniel Montgomery, a well-known criminal lawyer in the country and was formerly a District Attorney back in his days and Marian Montgomery, a top cardiothoracic surgeon. Zach is the third child and son in a brood of seven. While his two older brothers, and one younger brother, followed in the footsteps of their father, he somehow had a changed of mind because after he finished Law School, he instead entered the bureau.

Karissah says, waving the spoon, “Mrs. Livingstone tried to convince me I needed collagen implants. Like... at what point did collagen become an emergency?” “She said I had a ‘tired mouth,’” Elena mutters. I snort. “What does that even mean?” “Apparently it means I don’t smile like I’m doing a toothpaste commercial.” “She once told me my eyebrows were ‘emotionally closed off,’” Karissah adds. “I was thirteen.” “She’s the worst,” I say. “The others weren’t better,” Elena says, settling into her blanket. “Mrs. Wetherby told me she was glad I’m ‘still thin despite my heritage.’”

The chaos stills. He continues, calm and deliberate. “She did what none of you could, stood against Stanley Smith when it meant losing everything. She didn’t hide behind lawyers or investors. She faced the fire. You’d be fools to remove the only person with a moral spine left in this room.” Greaves clears his throat. “Mr. Smith, your identity and holdings must be verified….” “They already are,” Dominic interrupts. “Check your registry. You’ll find the transfer filings timestamped two hours ago.”

I'd never get around to seeing my face and not thinking about her, not seeing her. The girl in the mirror stared back, gaze unwavering. The left side of my face was totally affected by the fire. It was a 3 degree burns though lots of surgeries over the years have reduced the scars greatly and now, it was a little over 1 degree burns. My left eye was badly affected though and I've had to wear contact lenses. I subconsciously ran my hands over the lines marring my left face, they stretched further into my neck and chest and my tummy, then my legs. I lived through sheer luck.

My marriage was dead, and my life was barely intact. Even the child I had once looked forward to, she had conceived with her lover. I struggled to breathe, my fists clenched tightly. I really wanted to know what expression Tara would make when she learned the truth. Would she still be able to keep that tender, loving look? Just imagining it made a laugh slip out of me. Tara's expression darkened instantly, her eyes full of malice. Just as she was about to cuss me out, her butler, Matthew Stroll, stumbled in, his face pale with panic. "Ms. Brewer, Mr. Robles is gone!"