Phillip Graves Mga Nobela at Kwento

I said and left. The drive back should have been calm. It wasn’t. Everything clawed at my mind— Philip’s death. The chandelier. The threats. The lies piling like smoke. I turned the car around without thinking and drove to the cemetery. The cemetery was quiet when I walked in, hands in my pockets, the cold settling into my thoughts. I stopped in front of Philip’s grave, the cold wind tugging at my coat as if trying to push me back. “How are you doing, brother,” I murmured, staring down at the stone. “It’s been years. I didn’t even get to see you before I came back. Your death… it was the only thing that dragged me home.”

And now, he'd never get the chance to make things right. So he moved into a small house beside the cemetery and became a grave keeper. It was his new job and the only thing he cared to do. Jayden planted sunflowers, row after row, in the yard. Every morning, he'd bring a fresh bunch to my grave. Then he'd sit beside the stone and talk to me, keeping me company as the sun rose and set, as clouds rolled in and drifted away. He missed me desperately. But I never appeared in his dreams. Not even in sleep could he see me again.

Including killing all of us. King steps forward, sensing the tremor of fear I'm trying to suppress. He crouches in front of Phillips, his presence cutting through my spiraling thoughts. "We still need that list, Gary," he says, his voice a velvet blade. "Are you finally going to give it up, or do you still need more convincing?" Phillips barks out a hoarse laugh that ends in a wet cough. "Fuck you," he spits. "Do you really think this is the worst I've been through? I was in the fucking special forces. You're an amateur."

On the day we were to escape in the middle of the night, his body was discovered in the remains of a horrible motor accident. I suspected Phillip. The way he had a smirk on his face at the funeral, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t…it unsettled me. But I never said anything to my mother; it was better if some of her demons were at least concealed. “Morning, Vance,” a junior boy from the rugby team greeted, all cheerful as he stared at me with fucking stars in his eyes. They all thought I was the easiest of the horsemen.

"What did you do, Philip? What did you give it?" Philip let out a hollow, hacking laugh. "I am an auditor, Your Grace. I know how to balance a ledger when the numbers don't add up. The Shop wanted a Thorne legacy. I offered them a Vance record instead." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, glass inkwell. It was empty, but the glass was stained with a deep, pulsating violet.

The dry leaves and wee trunks crumbled under my feet as my hesitant legs trudged through the eerie tacit cemetery. Only the chirping of the birds, hidden behind the heavy branches of the mighty trees that surrounded the cemetery, could be heard around the silent graveyard. Placing down the fresh Lilies before the newly wrought tombstone, my eyes roamed over the epitaph engraved on the stone. 'Tim Jonathan Reeves 1968-2020 A doting father and a courageous man we will always remember with pride in our hearts.'

I hadn't even known the details. Documents. In your study. In your desk. The compartment. The hidden one I didn't know existed until I found it open. Empty. My chest compressed. There had been something in there. And she'd found it. I walked toward the exit. Pushed through the doors. The cold air cut into my lungs. I got in my car. Pulled out my phone. Stared at Philip's name. Attorney Philip Grayson. The man who introduced me to Alicia. I remembered it. Two years ago. My father dying. Vivienne, pushing socialites at me like products on a shelf. And Philip, pulling me aside.

she added. “I do watch news!” I answered back. “Is your brother one of the newscasters? From which studio?” I asked. I did not know it had to get more and more interesting. “Metropolitan News, Chuck.” Travis answered. “Oh, I think I know who!” Philip dived in that almost scared the wit out of all of us. He was excited about guessing which anchor was Travis brother, that he forgot we were alone in the dark outside behind the gate of the Hamlet Creek University when technically we should not be here, because we should be inside the Star Building cooperating with the protocols regarding the investigation about the new murder case, again. “Is it Stephen Florence?! You have to say yes! I have alw

Even with her eyes closed, tears still flowed from the corners of her eyes. I wish this were just a dream too, Philip replied silently, but he kept his thoughts to himself, knowing there was no way this day could have been a dream for them. *** Sophia and Philip stayed for a week until Lilibeth’s burial. They quietly attended the ceremony without anyone noticing them. Only a few people attended the burial, including Lilibeth’s friend Celine and her workmate, Lia. There was also Grey. He was the last one to leave the cemetery. When he was gone, they made sure no one was around to see them and approached their daughter’s grave to say goodbye.

" ...... He cried and shouted, pouring out his feelings in a way so raw and emotional that anyone watching would have been moved to tears. But was he an idiot? I was already dead, my body starting to rot, and he thought a few words could bring me back? I was not bothered by it anymore. He treated me like nothing when I was alive, and now, he wanted to act heartbroken at my grave? Whoever wanted him could have him. I was done. He stayed at my grave for half a day before heading back, making arrangements to move my remains to a burial site in Central High. He said he wanted me to be laid to rest in peace there. If I weren’t just a wandering spirit, I would have slapped him. Wasn’t I already re