Paper Names Novels & Stories

“Are you sure this isn't a business school term paper?” Yukiko didn’t even look up as she stuffed documents into her bag. “Dear, I’m more concerned about this.” She handed him a neatly bound stack titled: “1st Grade, Class B: White Paper on Financial Activities” The cover bore a childish but meticulous signature: “Published by Kimura Financial Group, Inc.” When Kenichi opened the door to his son’s classroom, for a moment he thought he had stepped into the New York Stock Exchange.

I didn't leave Christopher with any hope. Keeping my tone neutral, I said, "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, Mr. Lausten." With that, I ended the call and threw myself back into the demands of my research. A year later, our project was completed ahead of schedule. Our findings significantly improved the cure rate for a once-incurable disease. The news attracted swarms of reporters eager to interview Professor Tate. Not one for the spotlight, I slipped out as soon as possible.

​You’re staring at the paper like it’s an enemy,Damian’s voice drifted from the darkness near the press. ​I didn't jump. I had grown used to the way he moved like a predator that didn't want to be heard. He stepped into the light, carrying two heavy ceramic mugs. The steam from the coffee rose in the cold air, a brief, fleeting ghost. ​It is an enemy, I said, my voice raspy from the chemical fumes. I took a mug from him, my cold fingers stinging as they hit the warm clay. "Paper has a memory, Damian. This stock is from a mill in Connecticut that closed in 2016. If I use a modern bond, Isabella will know the second she touches it. She’s spent her whole life handling high end stationery. She k

“Err. I might need more help from you, if it’s alright with you?” Kitagawa looked curiously. “What is it? If I can be off help, I will help you.” Darrion took out the shredded papers from the bag and put it on the table. Kitagawa immediately put his plates and drinks aside to accommodate the papers. Darrion arranged the papers again and asked the guy what it read. Kitagawa tried to make out the words one by one on each papers and around ten seconds later, the guy said. “Ah these are hospitals.”

He was carrying a scroll. I recognized what it was. It was a special roll of paper used to write important agreements. It is a paper that lasts a long time even if it's burned or submerged in water. Even my contract with Jermaine has also been copied onto the paper, showing the seriousness of the contents of the contract.

Noah lasted exactly thirty seconds before creeping closer. He leaned over Lucien’s shoulder, peering down at the documents. “You own a sports car company?” Noah asked. Lucien nodded. “So you sell them?” Noah continued. “Or you make them?” “Not really.” Noah frowned. “What?” “It’s a paper company.” Noah tilted his head. “So… you make papers with pictures of sports cars? Like sport car magazines or something?” Lucien exhaled slowly. “A paper company is a company that is active only on paper,” he said flatly. “It’s for money laundering.”

MIA’S POV The paper didn’t feel real in my hands. It looked real. Heavy stock. Clean print. Official stamps pressed into the corner like they carried weight. But it didn’t feel like mine. “My name is on this,” I said slowly, my eyes scanning the page again like it might rearrange itself into something that made sense. “But this isn’t mine.” No one answered immediately. The silence stretched thick, deliberate. Like they were waiting for me to catch up.

I stated as I show him the prove. "Those were same exact words. The only difference is the company and amount, The rest were the same." I showed him both the papers. "Its called paper company." I said to him. "Paper company? What's that?" he asked confused. "Its a company that does not exist as a physical building. It has a site in the internet, ratings, brochure and etc. But not an actual building." I explained. "That's impossible." he said as he go through everything I just gave him. "If the documents were to be faxed, the company would have lost millions of dollars Mr King." I said as he stared at documents.

She said and nudged him to feel the difference. “Extremely difficult but original papers can never be this smooth.” She said and he looked at her weirdly. “Also,” she took a pen which was down on the floor, “See this, the fonts. This ‘t’ here, it’s different and if you notice carefully, you will find the ‘n’ and ‘p’ also different.” She said as she circled the specific letters on the fake papers. He pushed her hand away and held both the papers in his hand and read through it carefully.

Instead of stopping me from going or even starting conversation like I sighed he would do he just removed some folders form his deal and placed them in a drawer to create some place for me to place down the papers. He just didn’t care. Fine! It’s not like that’s all I live for! “Here,” I said placing down the papers when one of the top sheets fluttered and fell own, “I’ll get it for you.” Bending down I picked up the paper. The paper had been turned over giving me a view of what was written on the inside of it. ‘La Fedelta’ the name was written in bold among few lines making it catch my attention. “Cirillo Romani.”