Nurpo Trevor Henderson Novels & Stories

~~18 years old~~ Trevor alighted from the old beat-up truck he often drove and sprinted inside the clinic. He halted by the reception desk and puffed out a breath whilst holding his side. The blonde sitting in the tiny cubicle tilted her slender brows as she stared at him. "I am Trevor Williamson. My mom is here." The receptionist, whose name on her badge reads Charity nodded. She fixed the glasses she had slid down her nose to assess the boy who looked to be in his late teenage years back to her face.

They were back in the apartment by early afternoon. Lily was awake from his nap and demanding that Ethan help him build something complicated with the cushions from the sofa. Ethan built it without complaint and followed every instruction and Nora sat on the chair across the room and watched them and felt the ground continue its slow shift beneath her. Her phone buzzed. Henderson. She stepped into the bedroom to answer. "Two things," Henderson said without preamble. "First, the court psychologist appointment has been scheduled for Monday morning. I have reviewed the psychologist's credentials and she is excellent. Independent. No prior connection to either family."

Normally, he would have followed Macarius' orders. Macarius's words had always carried weight. And since Theo had worked together with him a few times, he knew what Macarius was like. "Because this brat is just a country bumpkin!" another man spoke. Then, Lionel strode over with Marlow beside him. "I've checked his identity. His name is Woody Henderson, and he's from Tiusto City." Lionel continued, "This brat was imprisoned for four whole years for assault and battery, and he was only released a month ago."

"Please!" Trent shrugs and lets out a sigh of defeat. "Fine! It's Jordan Henderson!" "Good job Becca," Tim tells me on the other end. "That's sad... We are going to miss him on the team. "First of all, I don't know who the hell Jordan Henderson is. "Yeah," he shrugs. Tim tells me to ask him something that makes my heart sink. Tim requests me to ask him about Sophie. I honestly wasn't expecting this. I go silent for a while then I finally gather up the strength quickly to ask him the question since time is not on our side and the cameras are on.

"This person is a mercenary. I heard he later joined an international bounty hunter organization. He takes payment to do jobs—and they're all extremely tricky ones. He's helped me before. He's reliable and very capable." Khloe saw the name on the memo. Noah Henderson. Beneath it were only an email address and a code. Arista explained that when she was younger, she had spent some time working as a war correspondent to toughen herself up. While assisting battlefield doctors in rescuing the wounded in an international conflict zone, she discovered someone who had crossed the border illegally and had also been injured. He was only a teenager, but he didn't meet the criteria for aid. The area was

"Henderson. Give her the papers. Now." Mr. Henderson stepped forward, the heels of his shoes practically silent on the marble. He looked nervous, a thin sheen of sweat glowing on his forehead under the harsh lights. He wasn't a mobster; he was a white-collar litigator, and the situation was rapidly devolving from a sanitized legal theft into a messy, violent hostage situation. "Miss Mercer, please," Henderson urged, his voice tight as he bent down to retrieve the thick stack of white legal documents I had dropped on the floor. He straightened up, holding them out to me. "We do not have to draw this out. If you simply review the clauses..."