Pretty Secrets Em Moore Novels & Stories

Every camera angle filled the wall behind us. And on every screen— Grant. Live. Standing in what looked like a press conference. He looked directly into the camera. “Good evening,” he began. “If you are watching this, then the Moore Reproductive Contingency Program has been exposed.” The men in front of us went pale. Dylan didn’t move. Grant continued. “The preservation clause was designed to override spousal consent in the event of financial instability. Mrs. Moore was never informed.” The room felt like it had tilted.

That was what I had believed for fifteen years. Now I was looking at a letter that suggested she had known Gerald Luther well enough to make a private financial arrangement with him. An arrangement she had wanted kept secret from her own children. I thought about the anonymous caller's words again. Ask your boss who really owns Luther Corporation. The door to Silas's office opened and he stepped out with his jacket on. "Miss Moore, I have a meeting in the east wing. Can you send those Moorecroft files to my personal email once you have them compiled?"

Since she keeps going low, I’ll go lower. “The day before yesterday, when I was at the TG’s Group banquet, I heard their employees talk about a certain woman in our TV station. It was said that the CEO of TG’s Group, Mr Moore is having an affair and Mrs Moore happened to walk in on them in his office. Mrs Moore is said to have beaten up the lady, badly. Now, the couple are heading for a divorce. I heard the mistress in question has a big mole on her forehead, so now I’m curious, could that shameless person really be working in this TV station?” I stared at Ava as I spoke.

I remembered the note: *The cage has two keys. “How could she do this?” Sarah asked. “She doesn't even work for the insurance company.” “She doesn't have to,” I said. I sat back down in my chair. The leather felt cold. “She just had to leak my connection to the Moore scandals to the underwriters. She told them that my company is just a shell for Gideon’s money. She told them we are a liability.” The phone on my desk rang. It was the loud, aggressive ring of the outside line. I picked it up.

Because of a summer years ago that she couldn’t even remember until recently. It’s not fair. Nothing about this is fair. My phone buzzes again. Marcus: Found something else. Ethan Moore’s sealed juvenile records. Took some doing but I got them. Sending now. I open the file, scanning quickly. And then I smile. Because of this. This is exactly what I need. Ethan Moore isn’t the perfect reformed liar Maya thinks he is. He has secrets. Dark ones. One even his mother doesn’t know about. And I’m going to use every single one of them.

"But it's been noted you have a problem hanging on to phone numbers." "I've had no problem hanging on to yours." "Why?" Because I'm the first one to say no to the rich, pretty and popular Grant Moore? He's already mentioned how he considers this a quest. What are the odds if we have sex tonight he'll move on like he does with the other girls? Quest complete.

Without me, you would've been clueless. Tisha: [Hold up, Tilverton? You all went treasure hunting for oil or something?] Tisha: [What's with everyone hanging out in Greenville? You better not be starting some secret club without me. Just you wait, I'm booking the next flight out.] Helma could not help but chuckle as she typed her response. Emerald Crab: [The Moores are branching out their business in Greenville, that's all.] Tisha: [La la la, not listening.]

He reached for the decanter with practiced ease and poured himself a glass, settling into the leather chair behind his massive desk. The liquor burned down his throat. He welcomed it. He needed the fire. The world knew Grayson Moore as a billionaire, a power player, a man untouched by weakness. But beneath all that, he was still the boy who had crouched in blood, held in his mother’s shaking arms. Still the child who had lost everything in one night. A long exhale escaped him, cigarette smoke curling toward the ceiling in slow spirals. It should have been Damien Lopez in that grave. It should have been his empire crumbling, his legacy buried in shame.

Chapter 5 The image of Emma Moore after the gala is flawless. The compliments from her colleagues come swiftly. Some look at her with a mix of admiration and respect; others, more timid, try to approach her. Emma smiles, accepts the compliments with a slight blush and calculated humility, fully aware of her role perfectly executed. Inside, she feels a cold satisfaction. Finally, they see her as she wanted: an efficient and trustworthy secretary, someone who has managed to stand out without drawing too much attention.

Connor let out the most unmanly squeal he had ever heard come out of his mouth. He was stepping out of the shower but now sat on the ledge Awkwardly, his ass in the tub and legs in the air as if he were a folding chair half folded. He was panting glaring at Koin "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?" Koin went to sit on the closed toilets lid and even smiled, unaware of how psychotic this all appeared.