The Case Of The Bizarre Bouquets นิยาย & เรื่องราว

He looked down at me, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the flowers at my feet. “Don’t touch that,” he said quickly, his voice firm. I blinked, confused by his sudden urgency. “What? Why not?” I asked, still staring at the bouquet. The flowers looked harmless enough, beautiful, even. “There’s been weird stuff happening around here lately,” Zach continued, his expression now serious. “I’m telling you, there are bad people hanging around. Those flowers might be dangerous.” I frowned, glancing up at him. “Dangerous? They’re just flowers, Zach.”

After getting into the car, I carefully examined the bouquet in my hands. I finally breathed a sigh of relief when I was sure there was nothing unusual about it. In my past life, the golden bouquet from Lester was indeed extravagant. However, it almost got me killed. He never intended to get married. That bouquet had been laced with poisonous perfume. He even had me delivered to a hotel suite, trying to ruin my reputation and calling off the engagement with a clear excuse. Now that I'd been reborn, I wondered whether Abbie could escape the same fate.

“Yesterday, when I was at home, someone knocked on my door. I opened it thinking someone was outside. But instead…” I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes flickering to his for reassurance. He gave none, but he was listening intently. “I smelled something strange. Sweet. And on the porch… there was a bouquet of Black Moon Flowers. I’m telling you the truth—I didn’t even know they existed.”

My heart thudded, my throat tight as I nodded. “I will, Ethan—for all of us.” Tom arrived an hour later, his eyes sharp with focus, his heart resolute as he joined Carter in the living room, a sealed report in his hands. My pulse quickened, my throat easing as I sat across from them, my eyes burning with the need for answers. “Lab results,” Tom said, his voice low, his hands gesturing to the report. “No prints, no toxins on the bouquet, but it was ordered anonymously online—untraceable payment. This isn’t random.”

Turned our tiny garden into a sea of color—just for me. But when I left, he dragged his weak, post-op body into the rain and ripped out every last one. I hid in the shadows, heart cracking, and fished them out of the trash. One by one. I dried them. Some got ground down and pressed into a necklace I kept over my heart. The rest, I turned into dried flowers. Even my wedding bouquet was tulips—stitched with golden thread. I still saw that day. Hemi standing there, marrying me. It was burned in my mind.

Sebastian did not dare procrastinate when he heard that Caleb was trying to woo someone. Soon, a massive bouquet made from 999 roses was delivered to the top floor. The bouquet was so large it nearly got stuck as it was being removed from the elevator. Penny was flicking through documents and waiting for the meeting time to arrive when Winona opened her office door. “You’ve got flowers, Ms. Sullivan.” Penny was about to tell Winona she could just leave the flowers on the table when she looked up and realized she could not even see Winona. She was fully obstructed by the bouquet. In fact, the bouquet required two people to move it.

She began to put the flowers together. The person who made the order was quite strange. Even his request was unusual. It was the first time she had a customer who had no requirements for the flowers and only wanted the most expensive ones she had. She put the bouquet together, and because the orchids did not look as nice as the jasmines, she put the jasmines in the middle. After that, she accentuated the bouquet with baby's breath. Eva drove to the golf course after she was done with the bouquet.

New year. Something fell into my stomach, and it made me nauseous. When he realized that I was looking, Jonathan Maxwell opened a forced smile and stretched the bouquet he had in his hands. They were the prímulas of the night. Beautiful, but suddenly, they seemed heinous. I didn't realize I was breathing too fast until I felt my throat dry. I felt the world spin, the walls darken, and the floor disappear below my feet.

They were arguing, voices low but intense. “…impossible this time of year,” the old man was saying. “The shipment was intercepted in Miami. The risk…” “Name your price,” Nicholas’s voice cut through, cold and final. “Triple. I need it tonight.” The old man sighed, shrugged, and disappeared into the foliage. He returned minutes later, holding a pot with extreme care. The plant was stunning and sinister. Deep, velvety black petals, almost purple in the low light, shaped like a rose but more exotic, with long, cruel-looking thorns along its stem. A Black Mafia Rose orchid. I’d heard the stories—a hybrid smuggled out of a failed cartel bio-lab, symbolizing a dangerous, obsessive love.