Stolen Stories Novelas e Histórias

* * * * * * * * * * 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.

Knowing she could not dally anymore, she shouted, "Okay, okay! I will tell you the real truth now! Just stop!" Laura's dark skin now seemed to sag, weighed down by the crushing burden of her secret. Her grey hair appears dull and lifeless, like a veil of shame cast over her face. Her brown eyes, once warm and loving, now filled with tears, brimming with a deep remorse that threatened to spill over. Her voice trembled, a barely audible whisper, as if the words themselves were toxic, poisoning her very soul. "Tristan, I, I stole you," she stammers, the words hanging in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down, daring him to confront the truth.

"Why would someone want to steal money records from a case that's already been finished?" Sofia and I looked at each other. The same terrible thought hit us both. "Because", I whispered, "someone needs to change the story. And without that book, they can." Outside, thunder rolled like a warning. The storm that had been building for weeks was finally here. And we had just lost our strongest weapon right when we needed it most. The night felt darker than ever.

“Grandmother, please,” I begged weakly as I sat down on the ground by my bed. The sun poured in through the window, spreading across the floor and creeping up the wall. Everything was going just as it has been in my past life. In my past life, I had been locked up because money had been found in my room. The money belonged to the pack and my grandmother accused me of stealing even when I told her I did not do it. In the end, Kendall had stolen the research report that I worked on for months and submitted it as her own. She became the most celebrated student among all the packs while I was known as a thief.

"Eleanor, have you thought this through? This project requires total isolation. Once you head off, you won't be able to see your family." Jonathan Hensley's words pulled me back from my thoughts. My eyes were still damp. A lot had happened at home these past few days—nothing everyone at the institute didn't know about. I, Eleanor Shaw, was a fraud. "I know this incident has hit you hard, but you shouldn't act rashly. This concerns your life."

“Land theft. Bribery. Federal zoning violations. Obstruction. Blackmail. Arson. If we stitch this right, no one can touch her story without touching the truth.” “We don’t just take her down,” I added. “We protect every future Four Pines from becoming collateral.” She looked up at me, eyes blazing, not with anger this time but purposefully. “I’ve been fighting so long, I forgot what it felt like to build something,” Makayla said. I leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then let’s build a reckoning.” And we turned back to the screen, shoulder to shoulder, crafting the story Stacey Sherbourn could never erase—because we weren’t just telling it anymore. We were finishing it. Together.

Both too focused on specific sections of territory. The dying rogue's words echoed through my mind: "He'll come for what was stolen." Laziel saw Rhiannon as property. Something taken from him that he had the right to reclaim. My hands clenched hard enough to crumple the paper. I hadn't stolen her. I'd found her half-dead, broken, and terrified. I'd saved her life. The word "stolen" still needled under my skin like a splinter I couldn't dig out.

Or rather, the life of my future career in media. I wanted to call his bluff. But even I could tell that every word he said, he meant. So, I stood there, and watched him call me a thief. I watched him say that fucking ridiculous proposal that would be my ticket to redemption –at least for stealing his Rolex watch eight years ago. I learned to cope with the guilt over the years. The guilt of stealing that hot stranger’s wristwatch. That hot stranger that fucked me so good that I – I shook the thought away instantly. No. I wasn't going to go there.

She then called for a taxi. At the store, she placed Phillip in a trolley while picking up the groceries. She was lost in thought until she overheard two women talking near a corner of the store. "I heard she tricked him into marrying her," one of them whispered. "I bet she's not as beautiful as her sister. She must be jealous of her," the other replied. Dianna’s breath hitched. She moved slightly behind them, making sure she was out of their sight, but continued listening. "Some sources said she deceived him into sleeping with her just so she could marry him. What a worthless woman. How could she do that to her late sister?"

“You know I didn’t mean to—he tried to—” “Don’t,” he interrupted softly, his jaw locking as he tilted the glass slightly. “You think explanations matter here? You think he cares why you did it?” He. Liam Moretti. The name pulsed in my head like a curse, echoing in every corner of the room. Stories about him traveled through whispers — the Devil of the South, the man who made people vanish, the man who smiled while ending lives. My breath hitched. “What’s in the glass?”