Sam Norton Death Novels & Stories

The voice chuckles. "Zack! What are you doing here?" You stare at Zack in shock. "Sam invited me." He explained. "It's good to see you." You wrap him tightly in a hug. "Sam is drinking." Your tone sad. "Why?" Zack gasps. "Did you not hear what happened to Nate's dad?" You asked him. "No." Zack looks at you, his expression somewhat confused. "He killed Nate's dad." Your voice a whisper so no one else at the beach can hear you. Zack stares at you in horror. "Now he's acting like nothing happened and Nate won't talk to me." You sigh.

The zoomed-in image revealed the ring the robber had taken from me. His suit was wrinkled, his tie crooked. He looked shattered—unshaven, hollow-eyed. Tears streaked his face, and his gaze was so empty it frightened me. I scrolled and saw a video. A swarm of reporters stopped Samuel from leaving the hospital, and cameras flashed everywhere. "Mr. Terrason, what do you have to say about Ms. Snowden's passing?" "Rumors claim she ran into the accident when she was trying to leave your household. Is it true?"

Aaron Samuel The great Dean Samuel just passed away. The person who built Samuel Corp. died. He built it from a scratch and he’s a really great role model. From small company to one of the biggest company in the world. A great person who always took care of his family. I still can’t believe that he died. The surgery was a success but as he recovered, he became weak. He talked to us for awhile and then his heart monitor showed a straight line. We all shocked and the doctor quickly came and tried to bring him back but God wanted him to go back to where he belongs.

“I have an update.” John leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead.” “The death of Shawn McCart is now trending across every global news network.” John nodded slowly. “How do you want to proceed?” John chuckled softly. “Don’t.” Sam paused. “Clarify.” “It’s perfect timing,” John said calmly. “Let the chaos grow.” Across the screen, reporters continued speculating about the growing number of mysterious deaths among powerful business leaders. John muted the television. “Tell me about Tyler.” Sam immediately began processing.

He shrugs casually. I frown. Memory detonates inside me. Lana's death. A death that had stunned me. The headlines that splashed the media afterward. 'An international model, Lana Bates, was found dead at the home of Samson Carmi, an international business mogul. The two have been rumored to be lovers for some time. Authorities are trying to determine the motive behind the murder. Anyone with information concerning the couple is encouraged to come forward...' "I never killed Lana." Samson's voice cuts through the memory. "If anything, I loved her. That's why I didn't kill her when I found out she was playing both of us."

Actually, suit-coat always makes him feeling uneasy, but since it's a mourning day, he can't go there with his usual outfits. It has been three days since Garrett Greenham died. His daughter Samlin is sick, haven't waken up from coma yet in hospital, it was obvious that she would have a nervous breakdown again. Her mother was devastated after seeing them, she still is. The Greenham family has already declared the news of his death in the mass media, said the cause was an unknown assailant's gunshot. The police and detectives are investigating the case, but it's useless. Lynn and Mahone clearly saw who did that and the cops won't do anything about that, because The Conditorem always controls

I took a deep breath, drawing on the cover story I had constructed in the quiet hours of the morning; the only version of the truth a human doctor’s mind could accept. "My husband... Zack. He didn't pass away years ago," I said, my voice trembling. "He died this morning. At midnight." Nathan’s green eyes widened in absolute shock. He took a step back, as his brow furrowed in deep confusion. "This morning? But Elena.. I thought he was—”

I was sitting on the balcony of Charlie's apartment, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. It was then that an urgent broadcast cut in on the TV screen. "Samuel Hudson, the former award-winning actor, was found dead early this morning after falling from the roof of the grand theater located in the city center. The police discovered numerous empty liquor bottles and antidepressants at the scene. "It is reported that before his death, Samuel was suffering prolonged torment from his worsening leg disability and severe hallucinations..." I stared silently at the shocking pool of blood in the news clip, the coffee cup in my hand remaining perfectly still.

Selene felt her throat tighten. “Yes,” she said. “Just yes.” “Completely yes.” He pulled her down and kissed her. Her phone buzzed against the nightstand. She ignored it the first time. It buzzed again. She didn't let go of him, and at the same time, she stretched out her hand to grab it. Glanced at the screen. Went still. “What,” he said. She turned the phone toward him. A news alert. Breaking: California Senator Gerald Whitmore Found Dead in Federal Custody.

I heaved out a sharp breath as I picked up the call. “Hello?” “It’s me, Audrey. Can we talk?” I knew that voice. What did he want this time? “Anton?” “Yes, please, Audrey.” He let out a heavy sigh. “This will be quick. Just hear me out.” “After all you’ve said to me, you think I wanted to talk to you? And didn’t you leave New York two months ago?” “I came back. Listen to me. There are no days I don’t think of what happened to us… to our family…” There was a long pause on his end. “Samuel is dead. He was found dead, Audrey.”