Steal Writing Novels & Stories

Amounts that shouldn’t be missing. I didn’t move. I didn’t react— at least not outwardly. But inside, something cold and hard had settled in my chest. Then I saw the total, finalized at the bottom of the screen. $170,000,000. Gone. Not in one move. Not even in a coordinated sequence. Just scattered in fragments, hidden in plain sight. Someone had stolen from me. Repeatedly. And whoever had done this, was a very smart thief. The operations were slow, deliberate and carefully planned.

Then the livestream comments began to change. [Wait. The file records are that complete?] [The original model is there. This doesn't look fake.] [So the award-winning proposal was stolen?] A verified comment appeared. [I'm Lila Brooks. I wrote that proposal. I filed a complaint, and the school told me not to damage alumni relationships.] More followed. [I was on Lila's team. Isabelle attended one meeting. Then the whole deck became hers.] [She has done this before. She offers to introduce younger students to mentors, then gets them to send work.]

When they first moved in, they cried and begged on WhatsApp about how hard life was for them. Feeling sorry for them, I even knocked a few hundred dollars off their rent. I never expected to have such troublemakers under my roof. They did not even know I was the landlord, and they had the nerve to steal from me! In over twenty years of my life, I had never encountered such shameless scoundrels!

“That’s why the council buried it. Because it’s a suicide pact for anyone dumb enough to try.” Cassie reaches for the book with measured care, turning the pages as if they might combust. “No one ever said the old ways were kind, Lyla. Just that they worked.” She taps a passage written in a different hand—sharper, almost angry. “‘Should the fated succeed, they shall be as one. Should they fail, they are doomed to roam as beasts, unclaimed by moon or pack for all time.’”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” “Who am I? You’ll know soon enough. What am I doing here? I’m here to deliver a message from my employers. They aren’t pleased about losing their money. Ten million dollars to be exact.” Fuck. Sartorre’s men had caught up with us. I had thought we had been so careful and left no traces. It had been more than a year since my sister and I had done the heist on Sartorre. How had they even found us? “Where’s my sister?” I growled. He chuckled. “I think you should be a little more worried about yourself right now, darlin’” The man had no accent to speak of, so I guessed he was an outside contractor.

* * * * * * * * * * 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.

Now, it no longer belonged to me. Before leaving, I called my lawyer. “Mr. Lane, has everything been arranged?” “Yes, Ms. Rivers. The funds have been transferred to your account. Your passport is ready, and the property in Swizor has been secured. Everything is in order.” I nodded, feeling a strange peace settle in my chest. “All right. Thank you. I’m leaving now.” The moment I ended the call, I saw a news headline flashing across my phone screen. [Mafia boss Zayn Levine is a total hen-pecked husband!]

He’s nursing a cup of coffee when I slide into the seat across from him. “Still look like you don’t trust the government,” I say by way of greeting. He snorts. “And you still look like trouble.” I flash him a grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Now spill.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Brennan doesn’t just write stories, Stevie. He creates them. He finds dirt, sure, but when there’s nothing there? He makes sure something exists.” I frown. “You mean he plants stories?”

He smiles giving me the rundown of the day, but once I heard the part of me sending my mother a letter, the smile drops from my face slightly. Yes, I want to send my mother a letter to let her and everyone else know that I’m okay and nothing horrible has happened to me. But how in the world am I going to word the letter?! I can’t outright tell her a man kidnapped me who I’ve learnt is my mate, but how he is also a mythical creature that we never would know existed! I know how suspicious it will be that I disappear from the face of the earth, only to send her a letter telling her I’m okay but asking about a little story that she used to tell me as a child! I know if the roles were reversed an

Truth be told, I didn't want to, experiencing the same fear: just how awful was the trade? I sighed. What was one more depressing thing to dwell on? Carefully setting Gemma aside, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and leaned forward to pick it up. I used that sliver of light to unfold it at last. It was near falling apart, but at least the writing was intact. I mentally prepared myself. The first line was addressed to Haveloek Brooks—Gemma's uncle, Oceantide's Beta. My gaze skipped to the last line, which was signed Connor Herrick. So this was the Beast's handwriting. I curled my lip at the fact.