Oliver Fitzroy Novels & Stories

“Yeah, it’s sad that she uses her gift in such a selfish way. I’m just glad I don’t drink. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop.” “More of a man than me, I’d say.” Oliver’s face lit up with a sudden idea. He reached out his hand to James. “Let’s start over, shall we? Oliver Burton of London.” James chuckled softly. “James Olympia of . . . Albuquerque, New Mexico.” “I see the possibility of a good friendship in our future.” “Yeah.” He nodded. “Me too.”

Ten Years Later: London Crime Scene "Mr. Raverton, for you," Olliver Raverton, at mere 27 was one of the most revered scientists in England. Tall, curly dark hair, pale, smooth skin, high cheek bones probably the envy of most Hollywood actors, Olliver had grown into a handsome and attractive young man. His love for chemicals and experiments had only grown further and he was now working with top pharmaceutical manufacturers to improve all sorts of medications.

The five-hour flight ended with Tristan and Oliver having exchanged numbers and life stories. As it turned out, Oliver had been in Las Vegas to solve some property dispute caused by his father after his rich mother had just passed away. Although Tristan exchanged his number with him, he knew that it was useless because there was no chance they could meet again. Oliver lived way upstate, and they seemed to have no mutual hobbies as Oliver was a billionaire architect, who spent most of his time in his office on his designs. He was about to be proven very wrong.

“I’m sorry, little bro.” “It’s fine,” Felix smiled. “It’s not like it’s your fault or anything.” There was a short awkward silence before Felix broke it by asking, “Who am I getting married to anyways? It’s not an old man, is it?” “No no,” Jo replied quickly, glad he was at least interested in knowing who it was. “Oliver. Oliver Finn.” “What’s that?” “HE is one of the youngest and most successful billionaires around here,” Joanna gushed. “He’s also an architect and he is extremely gorgeous.”

The warm breeze touched Oliver’s skin as soon as he got off the car. After recovering from a fever, he decided to take a break from work for a month. It was the first time he voluntarily asked for a break, which surprised everyone, including his friend, Frank. Oliver planned to visit Sherly’s grave with the latter. Usually, Oliver would resort to overworking whenever he had something in mind, but this time, he wanted to try a different approach, especially when he might be the father of Sherly’s baby.

I asked, confused. "Is that..." She swallowed hard. "Is that a Bugatti La Voiture Noire?" I turned around, and my heart stopped. Oliver was stepping out of his sleek, midnight-black sports car, looking like he'd just walked off the cover of a magazine. His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, and his presence commanded attention from everyone around. Sophia choked on her coffee. "Oh my God, that's Oliver White! The richest man in the country!" I bit my lip, trying not to smile.

Oliver gasped—he looked terrified. In a low voice, he whispered, "At your service, Sir. My name is Ulysses. My men and I are a backup patrol team, and at the moment, we still haven't heard anything about the new territory's location." As he spoke, Oliver struggled to keep calm. He continued to say, "His Majesty, the White Tiger King sent out many backup patrol teams to search the grounds for fiends like you to distract them and send them on their way. It was to divert your attention from finding the new territory's location."

Shawn invited Oliver to drink because he was really having problems with Harah. "What's going on with you?" Oliver frowned when he asked Shawn. Oliver holds the wine in his right hand while sitting cross-legged. His left hand was down as he watched Shawn. Just now, Oliver saw Shawn get frustrated and you thought the sky and the earth had crashed. Back then, any problem with Shawn was just basic because he was a genius. Now he seems like a normal person, struggling and confused.

Oliver took a sip of his water, “look, I really don’t want to go too deep into what happened over there. I’ve made an appointment to talk to a therapist, but it’s still too hard to go into details. But basically, there was a bomb. The explosion blew me away, and I was covered in rubble. I wasn’t discovered until a day later by a local family, who nursed me back to health. The damage to my throat and face was pretty severe, so I couldn’t talk. It didn’t matter much anyway; they couldn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak their language. My hand was gone, and the other was broken. So writing wasn’t an option either.” Okay, so I get why he didn’t reach out right away, but it’s been a year. Olive

replied Holly. "Ahh... the famous Ivy May drones, I presume. This gets interesting." said Oliver, turning his attention back to Don Krauser and his crew. "So, back to my question, Don Krauser, do you still want to call my distant relative Don Charles?" asked Oliver. "Wait, what? Distant relative?" asked Don Krauser in shock. "It's a good thing we are here in the forest, away from prying eyes and ears." said Oliver. "That's right, Don Krauser. My real name is Oliver Smith. Don Charles Smith is my distant relative."