Robert Chase Novels & Stories

Not that I think he will, since I'm sure he hates me now, but just in case he wants to. “Thank you! That actually sounds great,” I said, standing up to follow him. The drive back was pleasant, and it took only a fraction of the time it would have taken me to walk. During our drive, I learned that Chase works at his father's business and today is his day off. He runs every morning through the woods, and he likes sports, which would explain his lean physique. I steered clear of my past. I don't know him enough to share that part of me yet.

It was a very painful day and I just wanted it to be over, I wanted it to be some crazy dream I’d be waking up from but it was real as hell and I couldn’t stop sobbing as his ashes disappeared in the water the same way he’s disappearing from our lives now and would forever be in our hearts. Returning home, I locked myself up in my room, I decided to leave everything the way they were rather than trying to set it up. I desperately wanted everything to return to the way they used to be. NEXT DAY Jumping out of bed, I was determined to go see the Beta so we could start making plans. The first rogue I’d get my hands on would suffer. “Where are you heading to?” Kushim asked, they were having brea

It was about the man on Eleanor’s other side. *“…thanking our committee chairs, Eleanor Vance and Charles Whitlock, for their groundbreaking work…”* Vance. Her maiden name. And Charles Whitlock. The name was familiar. I typed it into a search engine, my fingers flying. Charles Whitlock. Real estate magnate. Philanthropist. And, according to a financial deep-dive from a decade ago, a silent partner in *several* of Ortega Holdings’ earliest and most lucrative acquisitions. A man who had amassed a fortune right alongside the Ortega empire, yet was never listed on any board.

Grief wraps itself around me, suffocating and relentless. A knock on the door jolts me from my despair. I wipe at my tear-streaked face and turn toward the sound. A man in a sharp black suit stands in the doorway, his posture stiff but composed. His presence feels entirely out of place in this moment of loss, and suspicion flickers in my mind. “Ms. Everett?” he asks, his tone polite but firm. “Yes?” My voice is hoarse, barely audible. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him. “My name is Robert Hayes. I’m an attorney representing your late mother’s estate.”

I just kept praying that she would turn around, and tell me this was all a prank. The moment she opened the door, I called her name. She spun around, kind of hesitated before looking at me. I swallowed the morsel in my throat, and kept my hands into my pocket. "I affirm that this journey has ended, so yes, the Chase is over." She nodded, and said nothing. She just turned around, and left.

“Joshua, I’m correcting my wrong decision for retribution. How about you?” Joshua glanced at her and replied, “I don’t think this is any of your business.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room. Mr. Chase quickly caught up to him. “Mrs. Jenson was acting like a crazy woman! How dare she accuse the most reputable doctor in this field of misdiagnosis. Dr. Robert has never misdiagnosed anyone before in his forty years of career! The fact that she’s his wife makes this even more ludicrous!”

Dr. Raynes called me to his office the next day. "Morning, Mrs. Buford. First of all, we would like to give you our condolences. I'm very sorry for your loss. Please have a seat." He told me, pulling a chair for me to sit. He waited until I was seated, then he continued.

she pressed. Abbas watched her for a long moment. The city hummed below; a garbage truck rolled past like an indifferent drumbeat. Finally, he said, “There’s someone called Mateo Vargas who’s been surfaced. He’s connected to certain Southside investments — not directly to Rodgers, but to a web that smells like them. He’s a fixer. But he’s not the architect. Names aren’t always helpful; faces are. I can get you faces if you’re willing to move forward.”

“Come here often?” I snort, rolling my eyes. “Nice line.” He leans back, rising up to his full height- and this guy has got to be six and a half feet tall, he towers over most everyone around him. “Not a line, just a question,” he shrugs, playing it cool. “I’m Chase.” Where do I know that name from? I take in his bulky physique, feel the alpha energy rolling off of him, and it clicks. Chase. The elusive sixth up-and-coming alpha. Funny, he doesn’t look like he’s still in high school…

Tuesday. Chevy Chase Club, MD. THIS WAS TOO EASY. Lee watched Robert Krieger take a practice swing. He wasn't what one might expect the founder of a tech company to be. Robert was a tall man built for power, but who knew how to use his head. Lee expected the patriarch of the family to be a difficult target to take down, unlike his sons. He was going to need back-up for this and his clients should get a warning he was going to come in hot.