The Thief And His Mother Novels & Stories

The day before the college entrance exam, the class belle everyone adored stepped onto the podium. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I couldn't bear to let you all miss this opportunity. There's a hidden rule in this year's college entrance exam system. If you soak your answer sheet, it'll be transferred for a special manual review by top universities." I froze, staring at her for a long while before finally blinking dumbly. In my previous life, those exact words had been enough to make someone as dull as me lose my composure for the first time in my life. I ran to get the teacher and stopped the entire class from soaking their answer sheets. In the end, the class belle failed the exam

"Mom, did I do anything wrong? Stacey asked sniffing in tears. Stacey's mother huffed, her lips curling up in disgust as her orbs exuded intense hatred. "How dare you ask me that? Are you so shameless? It's unbelievable that I've been living with a thief all this while." "Mom, what did I do wrong? I promise you I didn't steal anything." Stacey mumbled getting off the ground. "Shut your mouth you ungrateful girl, you have the guts to deny it instead of apologising. You would have asked me rather than steal my debit card. How dare you!" Her mom seethed in anger. She strode towards Stacey and grabbed her by the arm.

" Yes mother. Her school proprietor returned it this evening. This little pain in the butt stole the wrist watch and on the course of her poor friends selling it, they were nabbed by the security of the jewelry house" " I never said they were my friends!! Did you hear me telling you that they are my friends? The proprietor wouldn't have said that too" Xyrielle protested. " Will you keep your tiny piece of dirty muffin mouth shut?" " So you mean to tell me that your daughter is the thief, and not.... " Her voice trailed away and she looked over at Andrea's direction but turned away almost quickly finding out that she was looking at them too. " I'm sorry. Are you satisfied now? Then let me go

After all, the dead had no use for love. … My mother kept playing the video. Then, she snapshotted a frame and enlarged it as much as she could. "He's back! Victor Kingsley is back! He wants vengeance! Tell the captain to assemble a team immediately! I will not let him escape!" I was sitting on the station's bench, silently watching my mother work, and a sliver of pride welled up in me. I expected nothing less from my mother. After they uncovered who the killer was, he was arrested in less than a day.

My pulse drums in my ears. “Scarlett,” the figure says. A woman’s voice, low and sharp. “You deserve the truth.” She steps forward. Moonlight spills over her features. I gasp. It’s my mother. “Mom?” My voice cracks. “What are you—” “Stay back,” Damien warns, but she ignores him. Maria’s eyes glitter with something between sorrow and fury. “I told myself you’d never have to know. But they won’t stop. They never stop.”

The vibration shot straight from my chest to my gut. I found the keys in her messy bag and opened the door. The apartment was small but clean. As I tucked her into bed, her hand shot out, unconsciously grabbing my sleeve. It took some effort to pry her fingers loose. Before leaving, I placed a glass of water and two aspirin on her nightstand. The next day, at the Landini estate. "You're late," my mother said, her face stern, from her seat at the head of the table. "It's exactly seven," I said, taking off my jacket and handing it to Franco.

My mother stayed inside. In this version, the door opened. My mother, Elara Thorne, crawled out of the wreckage. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't even bleeding much. She stood up and brushed the glass from her hair. Two men stepped out of the shadows. They weren't wearing Hunter gear. They were wearing tactical vests with the Silver-Oak crest. My family crest. "Is the boy hidden?" one of the men asked. "He’s in the brush," my mother said. Her voice was flat. Professional. "He saw what he needed to see. The trauma will seal the block. He’ll grow up human. He’ll grow up hungry. He’ll build the empire we need."

“My father didn't steal that watch.” “The thief couldn’t have sold it either,” Mrs. Hemsworth says, sipping her wine with a look of bored cruelty. “Since it was a gift for your father, maybe your mother stole from the thief. Or you’re denying the truth—that you were the prostitute in Damon’s bed on the night his wristwatch disappeared.” “Mother, that’s enough,” Zayn snaps, his jaw clenching. “Dont speak to your mother in that manner,” his father orders, his eyes flashing with anger.

He said that to her face. "I am not done with you, I will take this matter to the very end. You thief." My mom raised her hands to slap him but he was quick enough to stop her. "How dare you call my daughter a thief?" Mom frowned. She was seething inwardly. For a momen,t I know my mom wished her childhood stories about wolves were tru; shee wanted to turn to oneand rip out his Heart. "I. Will. Say. That. Again." He said.

Only one person had ever called me that. Could it be him???? Ice slid down my spine. I tore the envelope open with shaking fingers, unfolded the single sheet inside, and read: Little Thief, You have five hours to return every damn thing you removed from my mansion at 47 Hawthorne Lane. If the items are not restored (undamaged and in full) prepare to face the consequences of your actions. Regards, Leonardo Blackwood.