Steal Writer Novels & Stories

Ayla was still standing in amazement. "We are compelled to do this." Ayla shrugged and looked at the bicycle. They were compelled and she was carrying necessities from this closed house for the same purpose. "Everyone commits theft under duress. If it was on the medium, then it is theft." He was now sitting on a chair with his head bowed and writing something on a piece of paper. Ayla approached and stood up. And her eyes fell on his hand as he quickly ran the pen over the white paper. His writing was as impressive as his personality.

He steepled his fingers together and rested his chin against them. Dread settled over Liam at those words. There was a reason she had so readily picked up an extra shift at work on what he had been told was her birthday. When he'd approached her, he could see weariness in her eyes. It wasn't weariness caused by working too much, it was real tiredness. The kind that one got from being depressed and living paycheck to paycheck for too long. He'd seen it in some of the women who liked to hang around the clubhouse. They were women who were used specifically for sex, they weren't 'old lady' material. He didn't want this for her, didn't want any part of it. With startling clarity, he knew that the

she said dismissively. "Hold on! What do you mean you're not doing paychecks anymore?" "I'm ready to join you" "What? Stop playing with me" Olivia says chuckling. It was no news that Olivia was into the business of trading her body for money. That was the only way that she could afford to own a big house in the city and a Porsche truck. "Olivia, I'm not. That weird lady humiliated me and everything I live for, simply because I worked as a janitor. I'm tired of all that shit"

boldly scrawled on the bottom, approving each purchase. “Gotcha, Ms Greyson,” I sneer as I look them over. I don’t know how my father got his hands on them, but they look real enough. It doesn’t matter if they are real, the implication is damning. Based on what is in my hands, Greyson Mills has been embezzling money from Steele Industries for YEARS and using that money to cover up their own crimes. It doesn’t matter if Cordelia knew what she was signing, or even if she signed them at all.

Her life was really complicated. " Your client is coming, mi cara." Annabelle turned in confusion to Hailey who had just spoken as she came to face her... My client? What client? What does he look like? " What client are you talking about?" " Who else would I be talking about? That shady man who sells you his bad stuff..."

"Hmm, very well, enlighten me on how you executed this," Jane insisted. "Well, I had his computer hacked, which provided me with easy access to his information. I reviewed his client list, and one of the VIP clients caught my attention. Consequently, I embezzled a substantial sum from the VIP client’s account into Ethan's account, ensuring he was not notified of the transfer. Additionally, I made certain that he could not access his computer for twenty-four hours; had he done so, my plan would have been compromised," Steven elaborated.

* * * * * * * * * * Just like any other day, I get up from my bed. My name is Alex Stones, a billionaire. I own several businesses around the country and even outside the country, so money is not a problem for me. All I want right now, that one thing I want so badly right now, is only Seline. If I manage to get her, my life will be perfect. I will be the happiest and the luckiest man on this planet.

"Even though it hurt, even though it destroyed my fantasy. I needed to know; needed to understand that my twin isn't the angel I imagined, that blood doesn't guarantee loyalty or love." "You deserved truth," Luca said simply. "I've stolen enough from you through deception. I won't add to that by hiding information, even information that causes pain." "It's strange," Sienna murmured, already drifting toward sleep. "My sister, my own twin, is a calculating stranger but you - my kidnapper, have become something else, something I don't have words for yet."

The money vanished into a constellation of micro-wallets and ceased to exist. "An inside job," Leo reported, his voice grim over the secure line. "But not from our organization. From the bank’s side. Someone with deep, privileged access and a mind of… terrifying elegance." The thief was a ghost in their own machine. Jay and Elara convened in Vienna, the anomaly displayed between them on a screen. It was a work of art, this theft. A digital sleight-of-hand so perfect it inspired a grudging professional admiration. "We trace it," Elara said, her eyes tracing the luminous flow of stolen digits. "We find the architect. We assess. This is not greed. This is a signature. A calling card."

The web was completed, and it was more horrible than he had imagined. Evelyn, the greedy broker. Marcus, the bitter brother and eager co-conspirator. Janus Holdings, the wealthy, morals-free purchaser. And overshadowing them all, the silent, featureless accomplice: Section Seven. They had provided the data to steal the prototype, the funds to incriminate him, and the unspeakable authority to make the entire world believe the lie. They were the architects of the scheme. Janus was their customer, but he, Sabatine Stalker, was their fall guy—the fall guy whose demise would end the operation forever.