The Man Who Knew Too Much Review Novels & Stories

She remained the healthy, lively child I had always known. Then, my assistant delivered news that left me frozen. My parents had begun selling their stocks, even liquidating property and vehicles. Suddenly, everything clicked. The pieces of Thayer’s strange behavior fell into place. I acted immediately, commissioning a discreet investigation into Thayer’s decade abroad. Gathering the facts wasn’t difficult. Within two weeks, I had a full dossier. It revealed a decade of reckless indulgence. Thayer had spent every night in bars, his body deteriorating day by day.

He didn’t ask permission. He assessed. I understand something now with cold clarity. Matteo De Luca isn’t dangerous because he kills. He’s dangerous because he gives people the illusion of choice - and waits to see who damns themselves willingly.

I wanted to know, it was not like a non-ending puzzle in my head to know what crazy Camille had over the scariest man in New York City. We finally got to my door and I thanked him for seeing me off, “good night Lorenzo” I waved before closing the door behind me. I got into the shower, the cold water against my skin cooled me and I sighed, grateful for the feeling. My mind wandered to the files, I'd done pretty well eradicating future problems, each company had a snake lurking and I had fun guessing who it was or who it was going to be. I was great at this, and I couldn't believe I let this feeling go, for a man who was more than willing to sell me off as a sex slave.

“Who is this man?” The man with the tablet gulped. “I don’t know. I swear.” “Then you’re worthless to me,” I said coldly. “Tell me everything you know.” The man’s hands shook as he clicked through the footage, showing Reina and the man standing up and leaving together, disappearing into the street. He paused, his hand trembling over the screen. I leaned in closer, my voice dark and menacing. “Where did they go? Where the hell did she go?”

There was this connection that had multiple layers of sequences that could distort one's brain by merely trying to fix the puzzle. It was like in the movie 'Knives Out!'. There was a hole inside another hole. Edmond, Kristien, the rich man, the deaths of these few people like Mr. Winston, the kidnap of Beatrix, Colton and Blake, the deaths of those few people in the bridge, and the attack in the inauguration. Many things just didn't seem right. Jameson knew that his ex-boss Colton and his father Blake were actual murderers and played a major part in this case, but there was something bigger, someone bigger who was intent in causing bigger harm in the city.

The absurdity and arrogance were so unbelievable that he wanted to walk away. Before he could say anything, the strange man asked. “ Do you know these people?” He showed him the picture of Mr. & Mrs. Stewart. Michael's heart skipped so hard as his gaze landed on the picture. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “ I don't know them,” he replied quickly. “ Yes you do,” the man dropped the picture and looked back at him. “ Why did you kill them?” Michael's heart started galloping. “ I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with his voice getting tense.

I sat in the chair nearest the door because sitting nearest the door felt like the right instinct, and I waited, and the house waited around me, and nobody spoke. Then the front door opened. The man who walked in was tall, not as tall as Damien but close, with lighter colouring and a face that shared certain features with Damien's the way different editions of the same book share a cover. You could see the connection if you were looking for it. The jaw, the set of the eyes, the particular way he held himself like he had grown up being told he was important and then at some point stopped believing it. He was maybe thirty. He was wearing a jacket that had been expensive once and was not anymor

The man at the table smiled smugly as two armed men rushed out. “They thought they could escape over the balcony. Fools,” the man in the white shirt practically spat his disgust. Screams outside were followed by a sickening thud as the two armed men fell headlong over the rails. “They must be on an adjacent balcony, shooting at us,” The man said, his tone slightly impressed. “I had not given them that much credit. Well played young scholars.” He stroked his chin where a beard must have once grown.

Fully exposed. No more backup. No more buffers. I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the fridge like it could answer me. My mind was racing again. Who was the man in the alley? How did he know? Who else had he told? Was he bluffing? No. He wasn’t bluffing. He knew too much. I opened a notepad and started writing. Who has the most to gain from destroying me? Who was in that hotel? Did someone see Jack? Could it be someone from the staff?

Who had spent decades manipulating lives. Why was he afraid? The answer came quickly. Because he knew her. And she knew him. The scientist straightened. Trying to recover his composure. “You were all terminated.” The woman smiled faintly. “Clearly not.” The people behind her remained silent. Watching. Waiting. Their silver eyes glowed softly in the darkness. The sight was unnerving. Beautiful. And deeply unsettling. Christopher shifted nervously. “I’m not saying we’re in a cult situation…” A pause. “But this definitely feels like a cult situation.”