The Man Tv Series Novels & Stories

This world actually had something called "takeout." I had barely arrived at the office when a man suddenly dragged me into the pantry. "Cher! You have to leave with me! Quickly!" Oh god. It was that rotund man, Shane Fulbright, again. He winced as though my situation personally offended him, but all I could focus on was how his muscles bounced with every movement. The sight disgusted me so much that I immediately stepped farther away. "Don't you know what kind of person he is, Cher?!" he demanded.

Were they planning on killing someone and framing me for it? I glanced at the man in front of me with horror and he was still looking at me but now with amusement. He seems to be enjoying my discomfort which made me frown. "What are you trying to do?" I inquired but no one answered me. "Boss, it is done" The man holding the half dead man said to the one behind me. "Raise his head so she can see" The man immediately jerked the half dead man's head upwards and I stifled my scream. It was Howard fucking Walter. How did he get here? Why did the men take him and bring him here?

“Binigyan mo pa ng chance ang putanginang yun.” “Tinitingnan ko lang naman kung nagbago na.” Depensa ko. “As if I love him again.” “But do you?” He asked but I didn't answer him. I watched him sigh and strode towards me, before sitting beside me on the sofa and grabbing the remote to change the channel. “Hey, I was watching that.” I complained as he switched it to Crime Investigation. “Look, if a guy cheats. He will never change, Sam.” He started. “Kahit ano pang gawin mong pagbabago.”

Lisa fiddled with the edge of her blanket, her brows drawn tight. “There’s something else,” she finally said, hesitating. “Something weird.” I looked up. “What?” “Earlier today… a man came to my house.” My stomach tightened. “A man?” She nodded. “Yeah. He said he works for the Mitchell family. For Governor Mitchell’s office. He asked questions about you — how long you’ve been working at the diner, where you live, who you hang around with. He even asked if you’ve ever mentioned anything about Eli to me.”

It was a man. A low, deep chuckle tore out of the figure's throat and the trio could literally feel the excitement of the man through the TV. "Hello boys...."

He was walking ahead of us, gun laying on his shoulder. A huge door opened for us and when we reached the living room, another pack of armed men were all around. They were holding different kind of deadly weapons and they really looked dangerous. I couldn’t help myself, but to let out a sigh as my chest pound hard once more. “It’s a good job, I guess?” a man with big accessories said as he comfortably laid his back against the couch. “For you, boss.” He was a big guy. Tattoos were all over his arms and neck. He had a big rounds eyes, thick purplish lips, and big nose. He was too bulky enough to be fear with, so I felt it.

Amber’s pov: “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you, could you repeat yourself?” I ask the tall man in front of me. He, still unbothered and expressionless, says, “I need you to be my wife.” Is he out of his mind? Thinking about what happened yesterday, the scene still haunts me. His eyes looked dark and monster-like, and the way he…He sh..shot the other man who was cold-blooded. I look up at him and when my eyes meet his, I notice a hint of pain hidden in his eyes behind his long lashes. His curly black hair accentuates his sharp facial features.

The man said. "if you don't want the money, then what the hell do you want?" I asked, irritated. "Straight shooter, I like that," the man replied. "Not really, cause you never get to the damn point!" I retorted. "Bristol, he holds our lives in his hands, and you're back talking him?" my father once again put his two cents in. "He's going to kill us, anyway." I ran my fingers through my dark hair, frustrated.

He turned away from the sight of her struggling form and walked down to the dim, concrete corridors of the mansion’s lower garage, where the private Voss estate driver was waiting by the tool racks. Thomas was an old, greedy man whose wrinkled face bore the permanent scowl of someone who had spent decades serving billionaires while harboring a deep, simmering resentment for his own empty pockets. His love for money was intense and ugly, a well-known secret among the senior staff that Cal was more than willing to exploit for his own agenda. Cal stopped a few feet away from the older man, pulling a thick, heavy envelope packed with unmarked bills from the inner lining of his uniform jacket and

“You’re not going to see him one last time? “I heard he is in a mental hospital. He hurts himself often, and now, he is barely alive. “He keeps calling your name.” My expression stayed calm. I only replied, “That has nothing to do with me.”