Stealing Stories Novels & Stories

She finally finds her words and she says, "so, what next? You're going to disappear and return in a fortnight and then we do this not sex thing again?" "I'll be seeing you soon. I told you I can't stay far from you." "You're obsessed with me. I should be worried but I am here, allowing you to sex me with your fingers. Just answer me this one question, please?" I oblige her with a nod of my head. "Why do you steal? Like you said earlier, it's a good deed and a bad deed that you do. You steal but you also reveal the atrocities of guys that the authorities can't ordinarily catch. But still, stealing is a bad game. You'll also have to do a lot of even worse things in the process. So, I am not go

That night wasn't going to happen again in this life. I went home and dug out my old diary that I'd hidden in a deep corner of my wardrobe. I was ten years old, homeless and wandering the streets at night when Graham—18 at the time—took me in. He was cold and aloof with everyone else, but he was very gentle with me. I knew that I had fallen in love with him when I was old enough to realize it. However, it was a secret that I could never reveal to anyone else. I grabbed the diary and tore it to pieces, shredding every page. Then, I threw the scraps into the toilet and flushed them down.

She asked the employee to tell her everything they knew about the theft. The employee admitted that they had been siphoning money from the company's bank account for several months. They had been using the money to pay off debts, and they had no intention of stopping. Amira was appalled by what she was hearing. She knew that she had to act quickly to prevent any more damage from being done. She called the police, and they arrived at the company within minutes. The employee was arrested, and they were charged with theft and fraud. Amira felt a sense of relief, but she also felt a deep sense of sadness.

Hell, she’s only gotten to where she is because of her perseverance and her abilities. She should be ashamed at herself for having to poach stories from me. “I believe that,” I tell her, “so long as you focus on your own work. If you keep up the trend of taking from others, it will catch up to you before long.” “I don’t need a lecture from a newbie,” Sabrina says with an eye roll. Without consequences, she’s learned nothing. So she’ll continue to flounder and to steal, and one of these days, she’s going to be caught and disgraced, I’m sure of it.

I wanted to ask why I was just now being informed of this, but it didn’t matter and I wasn’t going to quabble. Harold was a once trusted accountant who had been stealing from us as it turned out for many years. He took such small amounts it didn’t set off any alarms for a while. That was the main problem with thieves. They would take a little bit and get away with it. Then they would begin to feel empowered, emboldened but then the greed would set in. They would feel like a little more wouldn’t go unnoticed, and so on … until they were in way over their heads and it was far too late.

Her smiles does not make me want to smile back. “I don’t want to do this anymore. Mama. Please.” I sound pathetic as I speak the pang of guilt filling me, I don’t want to steal anymore, I don’t want to lie, especially to Astrid. Doing this entire things make me sick. “Dear, it’s not called stealing if you are taking back what’s yours.” Her voice is sharp as she speaks. “They took what was ours; we are simply taking back what’s ours, besides. With this final masterpiece, our plan will work.”

So, the devils had planned an illegal Surrogacy with the poor teenage maid who worked in their big mansion. The car stopped in front of an isolated cabin in the middle of woods. He asked his driver to leave. Mazov walked carefully on the broken stairs. With more cautious on the door, he creaked it open. After finding his favorite spot in the corner, he relaxed a bit. The pakhan, Pakhan and Pakhan. But right now, he was just Mazov. A simple man with a horrible past.

After I had paid her back, Holly had tossed aside her college dreams to chase fortunes in Eastbridge City, diving headfirst into the stock market. She thought she would strike it rich with her so-called previous life's wisdom, but the stock market was no child's play. She ended up broke, swallowed her pride, and returned home by train. Our parents urged her to settle down with any bachelor in town, but Holly's spirit was too wild for that. She left, only to resurface in a grim human trafficking scandal. Anthony's army buddy recognized her cries for me and reached out. When I saw her, her eyes pleaded for rescue, but some chains were too heavy for one person to break.

I was just… a prop in someone else’s story. I opened the drawer on the right side of the wardrobe, looking for sunscreen or maybe a light t-shirt—anything to fold, just to keep my hands busy. But the drawer stuck. I tugged a little harder… and as it opened, something slipped out from underneath. A dark brown leather notebook. The corners worn. No label. No name. My heart started pounding. I stared at the thing for a few seconds. It felt like stealing. But this was… my room too, wasn’t it? At least, by our agreement.

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?”