Sirius Black Dies Novels & Stories

"Uhm, 8:57am." "Oh... Okay. What's up?" "Guess what was just announced!" "I cansh gesssh jish earwin da morbin." "What?!" Eleanor spat out, "I can't guess this early in the morning." "Oh, I'll tell you then. The company has been bought." Eleanor froze... Then yelled, "What?!" "You heard right, sister! Black and You magazines? Sold." "Wh... I... I don't understand. Was it- i didn't know it was up for sale."

“A pardon while my sister rots in the grave?” The chair scraped back, but he didn't stand. “Natasha shot Kai with a fentanyl-laced bullet; that’s how he died. And I know they are currently on your jet to Singapore, because they are too precious to go to jail. How’s that me?” The Blackwoods had informants in every sector, so I won’t be suprised if my hospital happened to be one of those locations. “The dead guy recited your oath?” I arched a brow. “And I’m sure Queen Bee’s part of your organization. I’m not a fool, Silver.”

As Luke leaned on the conference table, his body swayed slightly, and the next moment, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. The conference room erupted into chaos! Two years ago, when Sir Smith fell ill and Frank was reported dead in the explosion, Luke had become the head of the Smith Group. Despite Frank's recent return to the company, the media still closely followed Luke. Moreover, with the fluctuations in the Smith Group stock price, his sudden collapse and bleeding were quickly reported by the media as soon as he was rushed to the hospital by an ambulance.

He really had the guts to spit out sensational sh*t to his followers. "Sister Emily…" I gripped my ear as I began to hear Momo's voice. I tossed my head around hoping his voice would fade away but it only made it worse. My ears bled, the pain intense as I fell to the ground. "The Witch is down, this might just be our time to end her once and for all." The clashing sound of metals behind me sent shivers down my spine. Momo's voice had faded but I was in far greater trouble.

Time-stamped from three minutes ago, but it had just delivered. **P.S. - I lied. Arthur Blackwood dies in 10 minutes. Come watch.** Below it, a location. Pier 17. Ten minute countdown started.

“Ahem. Ma’am, I am all right now. It must not be a heart attack. I might have felt a little uncomfortable just now. I made a mistake.” Monica did not expose him and continued, “Is this really all right? Don’t let it relapse. Why don’t we go to the hospital to check?” Just like that, the reporter who was blackmailing was silenced by Monica. He did not dare to speak anymore. When the other reporters saw this scene, they also became serious. However, at this time, the entire Internet was about to explode and no one could stop it. During the live broadcast, no one had the time to vindicate the Death Inquisitor. After the live broadcast ended, tens of millions of people gathered together to speak

“It’s not public news yet. We’re all waiting for Titus Black to come back, but apparently, the Black family can’t contact him.” Carol took out her phone and intended to call Titus. “I tried. His phone is turned off.” After some thinking, he said, “Sirius Roland and Boaz Wright can’t contact him either.” … Titus seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. The Black family could not contact him. When they could no longer wait, Abatus held a press conference and announced Richard’s death. Meanwhile, in Surich, Rivas also called Carol and asked whether she had seen Titus.

The underworld never slept, and tonight was no different. Grace sat at the long table while swirling the whiskey in her glass. The men around her spoke in hushed tones, but she caught every word. She had been raised in rooms like this. This was her world. But tonight, she knew something was different. "Have you heard?" a man to her left spoke in intrigue. "Adrian Blackwood is dead. Assassinated in Raeburn Asylum." A ripple of murmurs spread across the table. Some smirked, others leaned in wanting to join in the talk. Grace didn't react. She simply lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip, pretending her heart hadn't just clenched at the mention of her cousin's name.

Sophie's POV **8:03 AM** The first tremors weren't in the earth, but in my hands. The coffee cup slipped from my fingers when the Bloomberg alert flashed across my phone screen, shattering against the hospital linoleum in a burst of dark liquid that looked too much like blood. The notification burned my retinas: **BLACKSTONE GROUP (-39%) - TRADING HALTED** Lillian's hospital TV switched automatically to CNBC, where red banners screamed across the bottom of the screen. Analysts shouted over each other like vultures circling a corpse:

MARCUS HALE DEAD — QUESTIONS REMAIN The public would move on. But consequences wouldn’t. Because somewhere in the fallout— Jonathan Blackwood was preparing his final move. And this time, he wouldn’t hide behind proxies.