My Grandfather Was A Thief Novels & Stories

My grandfather had emerged victorious, securing his place as the leader of our clan. "Adrian," my grandfather's voice held a mix of emotions, "is possibly the son of that friend, a man I once clashed with over the future of Shadow City." As the weight of my grandfather's words settled in, I couldn't help but feel a surge of complexity and foreboding. The emergence of Adrian and his connection to our past signaled that this threat ran deeper than mere criminal activities. It was rooted in a history that held secrets and conflicts yet to be fully understood.

My grandfather, Terry Sims, suffered from bipolar disorder and was prone to anger and mood swings. My mother, Catherine, was his only chill pill. On the day they were hunted down by enemies, my mom went into early labor and lost her life in an attempt to save him. Devastated, my grandfather could not see a way out of his disorder and poured all his love into me. He would pull out the tongues of those who mocked me and fed them to the dogs. The families of those who hurt me would meet their end.

"Yes, I read that part. What has that got to do with Rebecca?" "Fifteen years ago, grandfather used to have a female chauffeur who stole from him. After a few investigations, it turned out she was the breadwinner, her husband was useless and she had a son. He gambled the boy's college funds and she needed the extra cash so she thought to steal instead of ask. As punishment, grandfather gave her an ultimatum: jail or a little favour. Of course, she chose to carry out the favour-" "How do you... Know all these?"

An old lady was hitting Anton and Jason with a broom. "Forgive us, grandma. We are not thieves. Ahhhh." Jason hissed with pain. "You think I am a fool. Obviously, no thief will confess that he is a thief. " Granny kept hitting. "Grandma, look at our expensive outfit. You think we are some cheap thieves. We are rich people. " Anton tried to explain. "You must have stolen these things from someone. Rich people don't break in others' houses like thieves." Granny narrowed her eyes at them.

"My grandfather doesn't pose a threat. Not to me." "He may not, but his associates do." "Moriarty isn't an associate." Stefan glanced at me and chuckled. "Is that so?" "What does that mean?" "Did your grandfather tell you that?" She seemed confused. I knew there couldn't be any truth to it. The old man was a manipulative liar. "And what about becoming your sister's legal Kingstonn? Did you ask that? And did he readily agree? Putting his grandchildren before himself?" She shifted in her seat and looked straight ahead. "He refused outright."

I told my grandfather but he doesn't seem to take me seriously and I groaned. "Grandfather. Seth Cox cannot be trusted. He will find his way into the company and steal from us," I added. "What proof do you have and who told you all of these shenanigans? How will Seth steal what isn't his and also how would he be able to take over the company when I have you? Make it male sense to me," My grandfather responded. "It's easy. First, he would get someone to kill you and then me and because I am married to his child, she gets the company and he takes over, that's it," I said and my grandfather burst into a fit of laughter.

“No, no—Kelly wouldn’t do that. Kelly isn’t a chef. He isn’t a thief.” Her grandfather sighed, disappointed. “Has love blinded you to the truth? That young man doesn’t love you. He’s been using you all along, and you still can’t see it.” Sheila grew even paler. “No. No. Kelly isn’t like that. My Kelly isn’t a thief. He isn’t a chef.” Her father’s expression hardened. He barked, “What is wrong with you, Sheila? You’ve fallen in love with a thief—a lowlife thief—and you’re still defending him after all the obvious evidence?”

I had thought his case was different. He couldn't keep his penis inside his pants, that was why they were able to con him, not only that... The person gave him an early dementia. I had sworn to catch the person who had made him like that... I didn't. Instead, I got myself caught up in a con. By a fucking lady! I couldn't just let this go. I may not have been able to figure out who conned my grandfather, but there was no way I was letting my perpetrator go.

My grandfather, Daniel Collins, is a thief. He steals my grandmother's name, Elise Caldwell, along with her identity as a volunteer from the city. Then he uses it to escape from the remote backcountry with another woman. Years later, he becomes a law professor, standing at the front of a classroom and lecturing his students about justice. The woman he runs away with becomes a renowned painter, appearing on television to speak about integrity, morality, and principles. Meanwhile, my grandmother is left behind in that remote backcountry for the rest of her life. Everyone around her brands her a "slut" and shames her for something she has never done. She dies without ever reclaiming her n

It seemed that he managed to rob my grandfather’s money again. While here, me, his legal grandchild, struggled and worked my ass off just to pay for my own apartment. “Now, now, grandfather. Be gentle to my future wife, okay? I don’t want her to abandon me again. She often thought that you loved me more than her.” “Ha! Darn her!” My grandfather scoffed. “Just be grateful she’s my only heir. Had I thought there was a prostitute running in my bloodline, it would have been better if I had adopted a new grandchild.”