New Story Dubois Novels & Stories

Then, I turned off my computer and went to water the plants on the balcony. The bougainvilleas outside the window were in full bloom, their purple petals swaying gently in the breeze. I recalled the words Dad used to love saying. "Elena, no matter what happens, live well." And so, I promised him I would live well. … Third Person's POV Meanwhile, in Newmont, a storm was brewing. After receiving the evidence Elena had provided, Guillermo didn't rush to act. He was an extremely cautious man, so he spent two full weeks verifying every piece of evidence, ensuring there were no gaps.

Everyone knew everyone. Sheriff Doyle, however, had never once slacked in her job. While her deputy would rather sit at the station and wait it out, believing the troublemakers would eventually leave, the sheriff would rather arrive early to make sure the heated argument never escalated into something worse. Although each time she arrived, the arguing parties would have cleared out without any escalation. She would then return to an ‘I told you so’ look from her deputy. She had never wavered in her belief that something big would one day happen.

Unfortunately, their father died in a hunting accident leaving my mother as the mysterious eccentric Dubois widow in the small town of gossip central. Dubois was her maiden name which she had given to each of her children, except me. My father had insisted I take his name at birth, or at least that’s what she told me. Being the narcissist that my mother was, she had saddled each of us with her initials. Sapphire Dubois, Sonnet Dubois, Sage Dubois, and then me, Jasmine . There wasn’t exactly anything exotic or special about me. “Oh thank God.” Sapphire said. “Mr. Ross is here and well, you know how difficult he can be. I don’t know how you deal with him.”

It had not occurred to him to ask his mother while she was alive—last names weren’t used much around Lonesome Dove, and he didn’t realize that the last name was supposed to come from the father. Even Mr. Gus, who would talk about anything, seemed to have no information about Mr. Dobbs. “He went west when he shouldn’t have,” was his only comment on the man. Newt had never asked Captain Call to amplify that information—the Captain preferred to volunteer what he wanted you to know. In his heart, though, Newt didn’t believe in Mr. Dobbs. He had a little pile of stuff his mother had left, just a few

said Amber bitterly, “besides your fiancée made it very clear the night you threw me out, you and her plan on starting your own family. I’m sure those kids will be beautiful, perfect pedigree, the heir to the Godwin Empire.” Grayson laughed, “Oh I’m sure you would love that wouldn’t you? You think that just lets you off the hook? You really don’t know me do you Miss Dubois. I always get what’s mine, one way or another. This kid belongs to me. And I’ll be coming to collect.”

Something inside his chest turned over violently, too fast to be called hope, too heavy to be called relief. "She resides at the Mooncrest territory." Another short, wicked chuckle. "Living comfortably. Better than comfortable, actually." "And we are simply expected to take your word for it?" Dubois's voice came measured and suspicious. "On what grounds do you expect us to believe you?" Romulus turned his sharp gaze on him. The look of a man choosing his next word the way an executioner chooses his blade. "Tell me something, Dubois Ashworth — why didn't you commission a DNA test when the doubt first crossed your mind?"

she said. I shook my head. Bob sat a little taller and puffed out his chest. “He’s the Alpha King, Andrew Dubois,” he announced with more pride than I had ever seen in him. My mind flashed to the man I had seen on the LED screen earlier that day. He was this—what, 21-year-old?—woman’s father? He looked like he was in his 30s, at the most! I repressed my shock, and all I said was, “Oh, that’s nice.”

I nodded, not showing how disappointed I was. One thing about him is that whenever he is angry, he overworks and I don't like it. I watched at the trees as baba driver revved up the car to life and drove into the lonely city of Abuja. The late hour sun was a bit harsh on my tender skin, the skin I took time to nurture. The weather changes easily, I vividly remembered when my cousin Khadija told me it is freezing. The house stood out different from the way I knew it. The house was painted and a giant gate replaced the old one.

And more importantly, why keep it from me? “The bank,” I said, rubbing my jaw, “Which one?” Derek walked over, tapping the report. “A conservative institution, old money. The kind that doesn’t take risks. It’s headed by a man named Laurent Dubois. Word is, he’s notorious for only lending to men with stable family backgrounds.” I stiffened. “Married men?” Derek nodded. “Yeah. Dubois is a traditionalist. He doesn’t trust bachelors with big money. He sees a stable marriage as a sign of reliability.”

Mary held her hands and asked Helma if it was because of Clara she has made this decision, but Helma nodded no. Helma took another sip of her juice and opened up to Mary. She told Mary about yesterday's event, how she met Kelvin and how Donald interfered and has refused to say anything to her since yesterday. Mary smiled softly and held her hands. "Can you tell you a story?" Mary asked Helma who nodded. "There were two friends who were so fond of each other, one day they got a doll. It was the latest edition and they both got the one each. One day, one of them choosed to leave her doll outside without caring for it because she saw a new edition on a billboard.