Norton Campbell Novels & Stories

"They can't deny you. I want you to give me every detail about the case. Every single one from your mouth without involving the authorities." Campbell stares at me for some time, unblinking, and then breaks into a laugh. I pull away from him, watching him as he chuckles hard at his personal joke. "You're a funny guy, Everest," he mutters. "You want me to use my powers to track a fucking stupid killer who's after your wife? For all I know, it could be someone after your wife's pants. Can't blame him. Harley's fucking hot, even with those disgusting wounds on her face—"

The connected call only carried the sounds of Jaime Walter and Derek Surrey’s pleasure. She did not seem to hear what I said. After an impatient click of her tongue, she hung up. I lowered my arms and stared at my mother’s decomposed body. My strength felt completely drained. Derek then sent me a series of messages. When I opened them, I saw videos of the two of them having sex that night. Their intimate sounds filled the room. Derek smiled in the video and asked Jaime, “You really are not giving him the miracle drug?”

Lance Hamilton raising a concern. '' And why's that?'' Gray asked stepping forward. '' Who are you?' asked Mr.Lance checking his glasses. '' I am Gray Campbell, one of the grandchildren of the Campbell family,'' Gray said with a bow. '' Why's it hard for you to chose a winner?''. '' Well, that's because...I liked this concept, the idea of sales and growth was really good. But the one-handed it over was Gray Campbell. The name on the file cover was of this young man.''

I wanted to pour out my soul to her, let her know it was that bird brain Noah Campbell that did this, and he still called me a freak on it. My glasses are damaged, and mom would not even bother getting me a new one. I drew in a long deep breath as nurse Mira started cleaning the wound to stop the flow of blood. It was pointless complaining to her, in Brooklyn high, Noah Campbell is a god, I don't think any staff would want to go against him for fear of losing their jobs. Urgh. This is so frustrating. “There we go, all good.” Nurse Mira smiled as she placed the plaster over my nose.

Turning the doorknob, I slipped into the room and then slammed the door shut behind me to announce my presence. Gunnar didn't even flinch at the sound, seated with his back against the headboard and the bottom half of his body hidden under white sheets. His laptop sat on his lap as he vigorously typed. The son of a cactus didn't even spare me a single glance whereas I found myself scanning his body. He was shirtless, reminding that he was carved by the Greek Gods themselves. Probably carved by Hades in all fairness. "I didn't say you could enter," Gunnar grunted, lips twitching. He wanted to hide his distaste but couldn't.

“Annyeong,” Nathan introduces himself. “I’m Nathaniel Policarpio. Some people call me Nathan and others call me Nate. Personally, I’d prefer it if you call me Nate because Nathan reminds me of the time I spent in Camp Unplugged, the Internet addiction rehabilitation center that was on the news with, uh, Shadow and me.

"Okay, ask anything you want. I will answer truthfully!" Alanna looked at Tucker and asked. "Tucker, do you know Edmund Campbell?" Tucker's brows furrowed deeply. "Edmund Campbell? The chairman of Northlight Group?" "Yes, the chairman of Northlight Group. Do you know him?" Tucker shook his head. "I've only heard of him but never met him." "Are you sure you don't know him?" After Alanna finished asking, Hades sneered beside her. Tucker's eyes widened in fear. "I really don't know him."

Bad people think I'm just the person who has the guts to run. A piece of news catches my eye and I scroll through it while perusing it attentively. "Christian Campbell, heir to Europe's largest wine estate, was shot dead in one of his apartments. On Tuesday morning, Christian Campbell, heir to one of the world's largest wineries, was found dead at his home in Italy. Daniel Campbell, Christian's father, was killed four months ago, and police are investigating whether there is a connection between the crimes."

Rhea told Sheila. “Who?” Ayra asked joining the conversation. “Dr. Clement,” Rhea answered. “Who is Dr. Clement?” Ayra asked lost. “He works in San Jose general. He is a really good oncologist. I’ve heard from my friend that is seeing his resident. She was working with him for the past two years.” Ayra frowned at this. She couldn’t understand why they were making such a big deal about it. “So?” Ayra asked.

With his arrival, her heart was no longer in her performance. "Rosalie, who is this Mister Kane you're so taken with?" demanded a young man, rising from his seat, his expensive suit doing little to hide his dark mood. He was Elidor Campbell, scion of the powerful Campbell family from Walganus Capital, a man who sought more than just Rosalie's music—he lusted after her. "Mind your own business, Mister Campbell," Rosalie retorted, clearly annoyed at his audacity. Without another glance, she descended the stairs, her thoughts on the reunion that had been years in the making.