Pablo Escobar Rolex Watch Novels & Stories

Literally, I know I'll get an excellent grade, like I always do, and I won't let this stupid practice take points from me and leave me with an unsatisfactory grade. Finally, I finish. I get up from my chair to go to the professor's desk and hand in his shitty practice. I can't help but look at my watch, which I wear on my left wrist. It's a very modern and elegant watch at the same time. Its colors are silver and gold tones. No need to ask if it's expensive — it looks very good. Its brand: Rolex, one of the most expensive in Switzerland and the whole world.

He needed her blood, which could then be used to make the antidote. “Thank you so much, Mr. Rockefeller, we owe you so much!” A dismayed Leanne cried out in relief, as she then hastily took out a gift prepared earlier. It was a Patek Phillipe watch. Alex had seen the exact model before and knew it was priced at over two million dollars or equivalent to a BMW M8. He declined profusely but to no avail. After all, two million dollars did not mean anything to him now. Leanne put it onto her wrist and smiled. “You look amazing with the watch on! I daresay even more so than my husband!”

“I’d do that even for my secretary, Olívia. You’re not important to me, got it? And you never will be.” I shrugged. He could go to hell. And watch me fuck others. “I sold your watch,” I said, triumphant. Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Which watch?” “What’s the difference? You have tons. And I bet you have more at your real house.” “Which… watch?” He grabbed my wrist hard, hurting me, his blue eyes like two torches ready to burn me alive. “The brand one… Patek Philippe… because… the Rolex… wasn’t worth as much.”

"Got it. Thank you! This is a very important lead. I'll let Theo know right away. You should get some rest." "Alright. If you think of anything else, let me know. I'll see if I can recall anything further." "Okay, goodnight." Rosalie ended the call and immediately dialed Theodore's number. The call was picked up instantly. "Rose." "Theo, I just got a lead. The client was wearing a Patek Philippe Calatrava 5287G limited edition watch worth about ten million. You can check who in the country owns this watch. It should help narrow things down quickly."

VINCENZO leaned back in his leather chair, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he scrolled through his phone. His timeline was a mess-every news outlet, every gossip blog, and even random social media users were talking about the same thing. **Oswald Dino Escobar spotted on a dinner date with Queen Wilberforce!** **The Ruthless Billionaire shows a soft side?!** **Apology text? Oswald Escobar? Unbelievable!**

Looking for the tremor in my hands. There isn't one. Finally, he opens the register. The drawer slides out with a heavy ching. He counts out eighty hundred-dollar bills. "$8,000. But I want provenance. Signed statement this belonged to Patrick Bennett." "Done." He slides a form across the counter. I fill it out. The pen scratches loudly in the quiet shop. This Rolex was owned by Patrick Bennett, 1985-2019. Gift from Morrison Construction. Authenticated by his daughter, Isla Bennett.

Scott leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with that look, the one that said he had something to say but was waiting for the right moment to drop it. "Are you kidding me right now?" His voice cut through my concentration. "You want to wear your luxury watch to the rink?" I glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror as I fastened the Patek Philippe Nautilus 5711/1A-014 around my wrist. The Tiffany-blue dial gleamed under the light, its stainless steel case and integrated bracelet catching every ray like liquid mercury. The watch sat perfectly against my skin: forty thousand dollars of Swiss precision and craftsmanship that I'd bought on impulse after signing my first

“Care to explain how you can be so sure?” “The watch you’re wearing,” I replied, “is a Patek Philippe Henry Graves Jr. Supercomplication. It’s one of a kind and worth more than most people will ever earn in a lifetime.” I paused, then continued, “If you were truly desperate for money, you would have sold it long before stepping into my life. You could have started a business, rebuilt yourself, and moved on.” I held his gaze, finishing my thought without hesitation. “Instead, you’re here, wasting time in a chapter of my life you don’t belong in.”

I knew what he was about to do, and I knew exactly what it was costing him. "I need to sell this," Adrian said. He placed his father's Rolex on the glass counter. The 1967 Submariner caught the fluorescent light, its gold case gleaming against the scratched surface. Even I could see it was special—beautiful, well-maintained, the kind of watch that belonged in a museum or on the wrist of a son who had spent twenty years honoring his father's memory. The pawn broker picked up the watch with surprising delicacy, turning it over in his hands to examine the face, the band, and the movement. His expression didn't change, but I saw his pupils dilate slightly; he knew exactly what he was holding.

the consultant inquired. Alex raised a hand, pointing to one of the watches. “An excellent choice, sir,” the consultant remarked. “That's the Rolex Cosmograph Daytona, Oyster 40mm in platinum. Crafted from 950 platinum, it features an ice-blue dial—a signature of Rolex’s platinum models. Would you like to try it on?” Alex shook his head, his smile soft, “No need. It's a gift.” “For someone special? Even better,” the consultant said with a knowing grin.