Novel & Cerita Priest Holmes Son Passed Away

She turned slowly like an anxious groom awaiting his late bride. 'What's wrong?" Dale grew worried at her unexpected silence. "Is there a problem with me staying?" "No...no, not that my dear," "Then what is it?" The matron sighed, she had her eyes closed and began exposing things. "You see, the father you know, is late. If you had noticed, on your way in there's a grave out there in the middle of the quarters and the cathedral. He played about the whole day, a funny and loving priest, always with the right words to calm a soul. And then the next morning we found him lifeless on his knees." She paused and made homage with the holy sign of the cross. "Yes, he died praying." The matron repeate

Several tens of minutes later, a doctor who was about the same age as his father approached them. "The family of Mr. Malachy?" "Yes, that's right. I am his son and this is my mother," Weylin replied nervously. The doctor nodded, "Could you come with me for a moment?" "F-fine, Doc." Both of them followed the doctor to his room which was not far from the emergency room. "Please, sit down!" the doctor said. Weylin increasingly felt that this was not a good thing. He seemed to be waiting for a terrible verdict at this time. He was scared, very afraid if it turned out that his father experienced something scary.

At that moment, I needed my liquor. “… Say he got promised the position if he sabotaged us. Padre wanted his head too, frankly…” She recoiled. Her lips twisted like she was fighting not to puke. I could read the disgust in her face. The terror. At the end of the day, he was still her father. “He was too impatient to indulge your papa’s little games.” I sniffed. “He died mysteriously… A certain Lady B was the last person he met. Sadly, she’s still a mystery.”

I had just finished handling my son Zane Graham's funeral arrangements when the number I had dialed dozens of times without an answer finally called back. My husband, Louis Graham, said irritably, "Where's Zane? That idiot can't even handle something as simple as buying a darn dress." A wave of absurd despair surged inside me. I muttered, "He's dead." There was a rare pause on the other end before the mocking tone came crashing down. "Nora Harrison, what's gotten into you? You're really saying all sorts of nonsense now, huh?

She crashed to the floor with a sickening thud, and I felt a burning pain rip through my heart. Margaret had treated him like her own son all these years, never once neglecting him. Not even the wicked would hurt their own. Didn't Calvin fear the price he'd have to pay? After drilling a large hole into the casket, the bodyguards finally pried it open. Inside, they found nothing but a death certificate. "Clarissa Levine. Female. "Cause of death: Car accident, ruptured spleen. "Died: August 30th, 2023."

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and final. I stayed standing. “You should be proud of him,” I said to Father. He didn’t respond. I turned slowly. His eyes weren’t on me. They were fixed on the phone resting on his desk. The same phone that had slipped from his hand minutes ago. The screen was dark now. But I could see it in the way his fingers tapped against the wood. He wasn’t thinking about Adrian’s sacrifice. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that his son had just swallowed his pride and walked into the one place we had all sworn we would never go.

Back then, he had said, "Ms. Harper, I have a son too. The two boys can keep each other company, and I promise I'll treat your son like my own." In just three years, he had forgotten that promise entirely. But for all his scheming, he had failed to realize the child on this boat was the son he loved most. I forced myself to focus and stumbled through the storage compartment, finally finding the backup emergency radio. I pressed the talk button and screamed hoarsely, "Zachary! This really is Blake! Are you trying to kill your own son?" "Shut up! How dare you curse my son! Penelope Harper, do you think I'm blind? I can see perfectly well that Blake is wearing a white tracksuit today! You think

Taking a deep breath, he reached for it and saw it was his men from the hospital calling. He picked up and sighed. “Why the hell are you calling in the middle of the night? How is my son?” “DEAD.” Moore froze completely at the deep, guttural voice—thick and filled with menace. It was none other than Ste-phen Draven. “What?” Moore’s eyes widened. “Oh, you didn’t hear it clearly?” A mocking chuckle sounded from the other end—taunting. “Your son is dead, as promised, Mr. Moore. Alongside his friends and his men.”

When the sun rose, I shakily called my father to handle Gale's arrangements. Then, I went home, clutching Gale's last belongings. The broken medal I’d fished from the trash, and his favorite stuffed toy. The moment I pushed open the door, the cloying, tangled scents of Adrian and Sophia hit me like a physical blow. They dared… On the night my son died, in our home, they were celebrating their victory.

“Mr. Holmes, I’m sorry for not teaching my son well, which led to him being rude to you. I apologize to you on his behalf and hope that you can show some mercy and let my son go. I’ll be sure to teach him a lesson when we return! Also, where’s Mr. Clarke? I want to meet…” How could Bo not panic? As he spoke, the cold sweat at the corner of his forehead dripped. This Mr. Holmes in front of him was the younger brother of Alan Holmes, one of the three lords of Uppercreek! Who would dare to mess with him? That would be messing with Alan Holmes! That would be courting death! Seeing this scene, Henley was dumbfounded. His jaw dropped wide open as he stared at his father in disbelief. He asked, “Da