The Dumont Diaries Novels & Stories

The book he, her old bestie had bought for her. It was a simple gift for her 14th birthday, 10 years ago. It was the last birthday he had spent with her. Or rather, the last day. He left her a small note that she noticed a few hours after his family had left. They were celebrating her birthday with her family as they were like one family. Carmen never used to like diary books and thought that they were stupid, reminding you of the reality you want to escape from.

said Damien curious . " It's boring to stay in the room without doing anything . It's not that annoying to only be cleaning without doing anything else but still........it gets boring and a person needs to have something for their own fun . Computers are already taken by others , there's not even a TV so........The only thing that I could do is , come to the library and read some books to entertain myself . " said Charlotte smiling . Damien looked at the book Charlotte was holding and noticed that it was a historical book with the legends of dragons .

I was so focused on trying to find the source of the attack, I totally missed the fact I wasn't alone anymore until I almost stumbled on the three witches, huddled close, whispering to each other. It was only Charlotte's rumbling growl of warning that kept me from barging right into them. I stumbled to a halt, looking around the vast library just before I met a pair of chill blue eyes now locked on me. Andre Dumont straightened, falling silent, his two sons equally still. Gone was the harsh arrogance I was used to, the sharp jab of superiority the Dumont men carried around with them. Instead, Andre's attempt to appear better-than fell sadly short, a play in petulance echoed by Jean Marc and

"there's just been the boy couch since Mr hourthone disappeared." "you got a wife?" dumont Bucharest frowned"I'm celibate for good, kid " "I thought mallard was your son." "pst, he was just another kid, not just exactly like you."replied dumont"see I've always wanted for kids to do the right thing and never repeat desame mistake that I think I made in the past." "good of you."

He looked at me, and he was boring holes in me. I couldn’t move and stand there like someone has pressed a pause button. But Damien move forward and bent to pick up the Diary in his hand. I didn’t know if he was aware of this diary or not. He opened the first page and his eyes get wide in recognition. It won’t need any rocket science to know whose diary it is as a big picture was attached on its first page. He close his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself, but I know I was doomed today.

Finally, Damien said, “What do you want to do?” I looked up, meeting his gaze. “I want the truth. All of it.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That night, I returned to the Montrose estate for the first time in months. It felt colder than I remembered. The chandeliers were too bright. The hallways were too empty. Every surface gleamed like it had something to hide. I went straight to my mother’s old study. The safe behind the painting still responded to her birthday. Inside: stacks of letters, two USB drives, and a worn leather diary I’d never seen before.

I did not counted on honesty to still exist in anything. Honest men tend to exist in some capacity, no matter how corrupt a society or system is. This was the case of agent Marx Zeener, poor man, he was so honest and he somehow found himself in charge of the Madame Rahma disappearance. It was just a matter of time before he connected a dot, and it led him to my family. Early Monday morning, he knocked on the floor of Hotel Badur as we had changed the name of the place. He and his team of heavily armed DSS agents:

“Gemma, I would like to go to school. “ The woman went straight to the point as soon as she answered the call. Gemma burst into laughter and hung up the call. That brainless young woman must be ready to die. She was becoming more and more gutsy lately. It seemed like she needed to spend more effort ‘taking good care’ of her. _ The CEO of Le Dumont Group, Livian Dumont, rested his head against the backrest of his high quality leather chair with a hand behind his head as he gently swung. Was it really possible for fate to be so twisted? It was almost as though he had merely taken a nap and when he woke up, his little gem had slipped right through his fingers, gone.

Miss Dumont spent an hour teaching Cassy how to waltz, and just over an hour later, she was pronounced, “Not too bad indeed.” Her French tutor was a familiar face however. Monsieur Bennet had been her teacher under her Levington disguise, and for a moment when he stared at her, it seemed almost as if he’d recognized her. But he shook his head quickly, deciding that it was certainly improbable that the beautiful young lady before him was his former student. A close relative perhaps, but certainly not the same person. Cassy spent the next hour impressing him with the same lines he’d been teaching her, and the old man was practically jumping with delight by the time he left. Finally, a student

Her world probably looked like an endless stream of case files and surgical notes, leaving no space for anyone or anything else. Amelia didn't bother pretending to care about that mother's background, but since Jacob had brought it up, she tossed out a casual question. "So, who is she then? Some big potato?" Leaning in, Jacob lowered his voice, his words tinged with significance. "She's the eldest daughter of the Dumont family from Haleigh." He hesitated for a heartbeat and then added, "Actually, I'll be heading out soon to operate on another high-profile member of their family."