Stolen Stories Novels & Stories

Her solid evidence would make it a breeze in court. After the call ended, I crashed on my bed. Scrolled through my social media to pass the time and hopefully distract myself from the thought of Dane else I may end up doing something stupid like spending the rest of the weekend in his house. I froze. A headline topped the trending list. Virality Built on Theft. Below the topic were similar topics. All seemed to be connected. A dance, a lie, and a threat. Stealing Isn't a Scandal If You're Rich Enough.

I meant it completely. Some people would never see your kindness for what it was. They would only take it as permission to hurt you again. Some homes would never welcome you back with open arms. They would only open the door to new wounds. I had already carried enough scars out of that place, and I refused to carry any more. Another year had gone by. My studio had built a solid reputation, and my Rebirth collection was featured in GQ magazine, where it was praised as "a stunning testament to the beauty of imperfection and the art of restoration".

I was stunned. Tears streamed down Jordan's face as he pointed at me and exclaimed, "Earlier this morning, Caleb stole the 80,000 dollars from Dad's drawer when he went to the restroom. He then intentionally used 800 dollars to buy canned sardines and crayfish just so he could pin the blame on Dad!" I barked out an indignant laugh. "You should make sure that your story is logical before you weave your web of lies, Jordan. Why would I be standing here and risking capture right now if I did steal the 80,000 dollars?"

And I watch her like an idiot with no clue what to do. “Stole everything…you mean money?” If that is the case then why would she not want to accept the one million I offered to pay? I narrowed my eyes at her, becoming suspicious of this sob story, who knows if she's being truthful? “I had a business with my friend, we were wedding planners,” she says through the crying. “we worked so hard to build it, and they stole everything “Wait—what? They stole your business?” “And my money, everything in my account. And to top it all off, they made sure to ruin my name so that I can't get a job in the industry anymore.”

The man chuckled weakly. “He still wants her.” Dominic’s voice turned cold. “I’m aware.” The man leaned forward as much as the ropes allowed. “You stole something that belonged to him.” Dominic stood slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He stepped closer. “She was never his to begin with.” The man shook his head. “You don’t understand.” Dominic’s gaze sharpened. “Then explain it to me.” The man hesitated. Victor crossed his arms. “You should talk,” he said. “Your life depends on it.”

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.

Back then, my pride couldn't handle even the smallest bruise, so I shot back, "I'm just playing with her." Selena sighed in relief upon hearing that. Then, she added, "I asked that deaf-o for answers on the last test, but she pretended not to hear. Since she wants to act deaf, let's make sure she can't hear at all. Jon, if you take her cochlear implants, then I'll believe you're not serious about her." Looking back, I realized just how foolish I was. I actually stole Madeline's cochlear implants and threw them away. Regret washed over me when I saw the confusion in her eyes and the desperation on her parents' faces as they knelt before everyone. But I didn't know how to confess my wrongdoing

Or the night after. How could I? I didn't even bother calling, or checking on her. Maria supplied me all the reports I needed. Caterina sent me a message on the second day. "Where are you, Luca? I need to take the edge off." I didn't reply. Instead, I sat beside a white-coated man in a secret underground lab, staring at a small pile of the crushed powder in a plastic dish under UV light. I had stolen the purse from her that night when she was asleep.

Ever since I moved in, that family across the hall had been stealing anything they could get their hands on. No wonder I found it odd when I first moved in. No one in the entire building kept shoes or umbrellas outside their doors. It turned out that everyone was just trying to protect themselves from this bizarre family. They really loved stealing. It even included my doormat or any food deliveries I did not pick up immediately. They did not even spare my bras, panties, and socks that were hanging out to dry on the rooftop!

"It's complicated. The circumstances of my life, the identity I'd built..." "You mean the stolen identity," Sienna interrupted. "The fabricated history. The lies you told to wealthy people who believed you were someone you're not." "Survival," Serena said, some steel entering her cultured voice. "Everything I did was survival. You don't know what I went through before..." "Before you were adopted by a working-class family who loved you and you robbed them and ran?" Sienna's anger was building, hot and sharp. "Before you stole identities and money and built a life on other people's pain?"