My Grandfather Was A Thief Novels & Stories

"So tell me, why the hell are a bunch of thieves stealing my business partners and project deals? I never took you for a man who goes back on his word, Magnus. But here we are.” My grandfather blinked, momentarily stunned, but then, as realization dawned on him, his gaze shifted to my father and then to James, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. What a smart man. “Is this true?” my grandfather asked, his tone cold. Despite my father’s blank expression, I didn’t miss the way his fingers tightened around his cutlery before he carefully set it down on the table with a soft click, then reached for a napkin to wipe his mouth.

This document dates back to the era of his grandfather. Shock slams into me, a physical blow. I stare at the names, the descriptions, unable to reconcile the sheer brutality with the organized, almost corporate structure Aaron has built. How could they have employed such… monsters? My jaw clenches. Then the answer hits me, cold and swift. Aaron’s grandfather. The old man was a living legend, yes, but equally, a nightmare. His brutality was infamous, his methods ruthless, his reach absolute. He wouldn’t hesitate to use anyone, no matter how depraved, if they served his purpose. This document is a chilling testament to his reign, a dark echo from a gone era of pure, unadulterated mafia busines

She studied me a long moment, something calculating returning to her expression. "Your grandfather exiled him for a crime he claims he didn't commit, something about territorial disputes, old pack politics I don't fully understand myself. He's spent two decades building an army of rogues loyal only to him, waiting for the exact right moment to reclaim what he believes was stolen from him." "And you've been helping him."

“Fine. I’ll call Professor Harrington myself.” He blinked, surprised I agreed so easily. He stared at me for a moment, then stormed out, slamming the door. Sunlight shifted across the open files. Professor Daniel Harrington. Mrs. Harrington. Neatly written under “Family Members” by Isabelle’s hand. My grandfather. The man who abandoned my grandmother. And the woman who stole my grandmother’s life. A thief. I stared for a long time. Then I dialed the number. “Professor Harrington, this is Evelyn Smith from the firm. Regarding your granddaughter’s application, I would like to meet with you in person.”

I asked, my voice filled with pain. My grandfather clicked his tongue. “Because it’s the perfect image. No one would ever suspect a top hockey player of leading a gang or associating with criminals. When you finally inherit everything, you can live freely without worrying,” he said. “Ohhh, is that so?” I whispered, and my head dropped. For years now, I thought that my grandfather was helping me because he cared about me. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that he had this kind of thought behind his action.

Under further questioning, he started revealing the truth bit by bit. The theft back in high school had actually been his doing. He'd simply pinned it on me and spread rumors to slander me. The one stealing women's underwear around the neighborhood and selling it had also been him. According to him, there were plenty of buyers willing to pay high prices, sometimes several hundred dollars for a single piece. He'd lost a lot of money gambling, and that was how he'd been making it back. The copper bracelet had been something he prepared in advance to swap with the gold one. But that day, after he ran into me at the station, he came up with a different plan.

The guards immediately stopped, looking between Qing Han and my grandfather. My grandfather stepped forward again. "We won't drag her out. I was just hoping that I could have a word with her. My granddaughter can at times cause trouble…" Qing Han looked at me, and I quickly looked away from him. I heard him scoff a little before turning to look at my grandfather. "What kind of trouble did she cause this time?" A pout immediately formed on my lips. This time? What did he even mean? My grandfather hesitated for a few seconds. I knew he couldn't openly say that he thought I had stolen the knife that had killed my mom.

After handing out care packages for the senior citizens who live alone, I casually pick up a jug of peanut oil from the shelf. I'm about to leave when my longtime rival, Ryan Cooper, points a finger in my face. "Have you no shame, Will?" he yells. "We're all here watching, you know? How dare you line your own pockets!" Lynette Watson, the head of the neighborhood office, and several elderly people who haven't left yet stop dead in their tracks. Suddenly, a dozen pairs of eyes land on me. Ryan continues ranting, spittle flying everywhere, "Those are donated gifts for the elderly! What gives you the right to take one? Are you elderly? And to think you'll be awarded the Outstanding Volunteer

Jack snapped his fingers on my face, "we're in grandfather's house." "I know duh! is obvious dummy! I just want my freaking phone back!" I yelled. "If you get an ass whooping my shoulders are available for you to cry on." "No! I'll just...em.. Take a glance and drop it back." "Bad bad bad idea," "Is not a bad idea." I rolled my eyes. "Grandfather will discipline you, stealing is wrong." "I'm not stealing is mine for fuck sake! I can take it whenever I want!"

“He says he’s a psychic assassin. That he can get people to commit suicide by crawling into their heads.” Loud boisterous laughter. Father wiped his eyes and thrust the glass out to be refilled, which the servile steward quickly did. “I’d say that there’s a possibility that it was once true. Great-grandfather and he were sorcerer criminals in arms. They stole. They killed. They conned. They molested. Whether it is true now is up in the air.” Sip, sip. Sip, sip. Father slammed the glass down in frustration. “Stop pussyfooting around. Time to connect the dots.”