Neverland: Michael Jackson House Novels & Stories

"Who's Elijah?" Janet snapped, "Don't worry about it. Just tell me if you know where she is!" His forehead creased, debating whether or not to tell her. "If you know something, just tell me!" she demanded. Janet was worried sick. Quentin hung up on her and sent her a message. "Belvedere Villa." He'd found out that Michael owned a property in Dragfort. It seemed likely that Michael and Emmie were now at Belvedere Villa. He chose not to tell her over the phone because he didn't want Noelle to know.

I just nodded in response to him and hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. Michael turned off his headlights as he pulled up to Phil’s last known location. It looked like a meth lab. The house was broken down and some of the windows were boarded up. There was a 'for sale' sign in his neighbor's yard and I didn’t blame them. This house brought down the value of the entire neighborhood. "He couldn’t have possibly lived here?" I asked, astonished. Michael gave me a look that said ‘you might be surprised.’ I scrunched my nose in distaste. He kept driving past the house and parked a little ways down. When he turned off the engine, he looked at me seriously.

"Once you leave, they'll follow. Then we can get outta here under the radar. No one gets hurt. No alarms raised. Got it?" "Are you take anything else from the house?" I inquired. Michael's house was huge, loaded with valuables and a garage of cars and bikes. He was my friend—no, my brother, as much as it pained me to acknowledge such. And rotten as he was, I loved him, and I’d hate if these guys cleaned him out entirely. "No. We ain’t that greedy! What we got here is worth fifty times more than what Michael cost us. But serves him right," he said. "Now get ya tight asses outta here!"

“When you get settled, I can give you a tour of the house, and thereafter, we can sit by the fireplace and take a look at Jordan’s picture album. You can take pictures of his funny or creepy looks and taunt him with them whenever he misbehaves. She reveals blushing. “Can’t wait.” If I thought Jordan’s house was humongous, then I was wrong because, compared to that of the Bakers', it would be considered average. The house sits on fifty hectares of land. I’ve never had a tour of the house, just a few quick visits in the previous month. Mrs. Heather took her time to show me around. A private filmhouse, an aquarium, a massive study room like one from an ancient movie, seven massive bedrooms, a w

He said slowly, "even though it's not as big as my house in Venice, I'm sure this place will feel comfortable." “Wait…” Claire stopped her steps. A doubt filled her mind again, “since when did you… have a house? Is this Daddy and Mommy's house?” They were in separate cars after getting off the plane, so Claire assumed that Josephine and John had gone to their house while Michael drove her to her apartment. Michael was silent for a few moments, and Claire didn't know what he was doing, so she fell silent. “This is my house, not Daddy and Mommy's house. From now on, you will live here."

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t do that,” I said to him. “What’s the number of the house?” he asked Michael. “Thirty five. A bit downward,” Michael responded to him. “I can’t believe people used to live here,” I said, still holding until Jacob. It looks like a wrong Halloween movie. “We are here boss,” one of the other men said. “We should check the house before you both go in,” Michael said and Jacob nodded. I will say this is the only house that I have seen so far that has both a window and a roof. The other houses are just with one or none.

Oh, to be a world-famous athlete with millions of dollars at my disposal. We continued our tour of the house. It truly was a fun house, and I understood why Mandy thought it would be perfect for a young professional athlete. He would have a blast here. Once we were done with our tour, Mandy left me, promising to pick me up as soon as the showing was finished. Butterflies began forming in my stomach when Michael pulled up in a sleek Lexus sedan.

"There is something hidden upstairs that your wolf needs to scent." Jone follows her up the winding stone staircase of the citadel tower, his curiosity flaring. He has paced these corridors for weeks, but he has never invaded the upper sanctuaries. "We all split our cauldrons here," Rebbie says, throwing open a heavy oak door. "Even though we have our own territories now, Mother keeps our pup-rooms untouched. I did a massive amount of hunting through these drawers when I first returned from the borders." Jone steps into the chamber and instantly freezes. Mounted on the stone wall is a heavy bronze frame holding a vivid depiction of Michael Jackson laughing wildly during an old winter hunt, w