Painter Of The Night Plot Novels & Stories

I closed my eyes, allowing the rhythmic sound of my heartbeat to lull me into a state of semi-consciousness, the events of the day fading into the background as sleep beckoned me into its embrace. But just as I began to drift off, a faint tapping sound roused me from my reverie. I frowned, wondering what could be causing the disturbance in the stillness of the night. Pushing myself up from the bed, I made my way to the veranda, drawn by the curious noise emanating from outside. As I stepped onto the veranda, I saw Trence standing there, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. His gaze met mine, a mixture of apprehension and remorse shining in his eyes.

When he finally woke up the next morning, he wondered how he got to this room, he sat upright on the bed trying to remember what happened but his brain was blurred at that moment, he turned to the other side of the bed and found a blood stain on the bed and suddenly his brain started recollecting that he slept with someone but he doesn't know who, he picks up his clothes on the floor and worn it before he called his driver to come pick him up. He was still pondering on it in his office when his cell phone rang, he picked it up. "Any information?" he asked and there was a pause."I don't care how you do it, I want the information about what happened that night". he said and hung up. Maya was s

Ryo spat, still trying to pull himself away, but Dini, on the other side, liked how much the conversation was flowing; they were just buying some time to show Ryo how they truly won the game. He wanted to make Ryo feel hopeless, seeing the man he loved since he was young, and has now fallen for his son. Pleasuring a man is surely proven and tested to get what you want. “Huh! Was the prostitute that night good? ” Sachin wanted to irk Ryo, but it didn't happen; instead, his patience was thinning from their charade. “How about your car sex? Aren't you aware of the pinhole camera I installed? I have the whole recording; let's see how your serene image shambles. ”

The painter was smiling broadly himself now, a huge watermelon grin stretching across his face as he promised her that he would have the paint mixed and delivered to her ready for the decorators to start work in the morning. It was a month since the evening she had fled—not just from Arni, but more tellingly from her own response to him—to spend virtually the whole night curled up on her bed, agonizing over what she should do.

A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, and a recliner was right in front of the glass wall at the other end. I neared the painting, folding my arms and taking in the details. From what I could tell, the painter was telling the story of a man who’d become a darker shadow of himself while walking down a path no one else could. There were what appeared to be dead bodies littered behind him, and it seemed like his soul died a little with each step he took.

“You better rest now. Contact me or your mother if anything happens, alright?” The painter just simply answered with a ‘yes’ before he hung up. He then put his phone back on the nightstand and covered his eyes with his arm. His mind was tangled, but he had to force himself to sleep. It didn’t take long for René to fall asleep peacefully. His beautiful eyes were closed, his breath sounded regular, and he fell into a deep sleep. Hour after hour passed. The digital clock on the painter’s nightstand showed 00:05 as the young man slowly started to get up from his bed. The bolster he had been holding fell helplessly to the floor.

Noah promised, then left the penthouse with Tyler behind him. "We are ready boss." the bodyguard informed, bowing as he waited for the next line of instructions from his master. The boss was still standing and observing a gruesome painting that he had worked on himself a few months ago with a smile on his face. The painting which depicted the death of a whole family at the hands of a little boy laid in a thick frame, decorating the dark wall. "Lead the way." Ash Grey ordered and walked behind the bodyguard in a backward motion. When he reached the doorway, he finally tore his gaze away from the painting and started to hum a fast beat with his mouth as he walked.

"If I look at another canvas tonight, I'm going to set it on fire." ​I lowered my brush and stepped back to look at the painting in the dim light. The red paint looked dark and strong against the white background. "We still have thirty-eight paintings to finish, Priya." ​"Which is why we are leaving right now." Priya grabbed her jacket off the hook by the door and put it on, giving me a firm look. "You've been locked in this building for days, drinking cold coffee and refusing to rest. We are going out. We are having a drink tonight."

Why? It was so late at night now that perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was closer to dawn but if he wanted to see the painting now then who was I to stop him? I watched as Hayden got off the bed and headed for the door. He could walk and move around so I guess he must be fine to a certain extent. With a sigh, I slipped out of bed and followed him out of my bedroom. The art studio looks mysteriously beautiful with the moonlight shining in; however, I could tell that the sun would soon replace the moon. Hayden stood in front of the painting where I had covered it with a large black cloth. I switched on the light so that Hayden could see the painting clearly.

This painting was exactly the same as the one that Ethan had given me. With a buzz in my head, my mind went blank in an instant. How could that be? Why was the painting in the room? I was suddenly reminded of what Hazel had said: the Madame Oriana in the art museum was a copy made by a painter, while the real one was in the possession of a mysterious rich man. Could it be that the one in front of me was the real painting, and the mysterious rich man who had collected it was the Nightfang family? What was the relationship between her and the Nightfangs?