Thomas Cresswell Novels & Stories

The third thing required a longer accounting. Thomas — the younger of the two housekeeping staff, twenty-four, originally from somewhere in the west of Ireland, a quality of directness and humor about him that I had found, in the months of peripheral observation, to be genuine rather than performed — Thomas had the habit, when our paths crossed in the mornings, of a brief exchange. Not long. Not the extended social conversation of people with leisure for it, but the kind of exchange that was specific to a large house where staff and residents moved through the same corridors at the same hours — a comment about the weather, a remark about something in the news, once a brief and genuinely funn

They shifted into their wolf forms and charged alongside their pack, both sides roaring with bloodlust as they raced toward each other, driven by the urge to kill. A week passed with no word from Zachary or anyone else. Rufus feared the worst but clung to hope, waiting in silence. Two days later, his worst fears were confirmed—Zachary was dead. The castle lay in ruins, and the White Crescents were no more. Everyone had been reduced to ashes.

"I'm getting married. I need your help making sure everything is done properly." There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Marguerite's voice came back, measured but with something warm underneath. "Tell me his name." "Devin Cresswell. He's my best friend. He's the only person I've ever trusted completely." Another pause, longer this time. "The Cresswell heir. How interesting." "You know him?" "I know of him. His grandfather is a formidable man. We've crossed paths before." Her voice was unreadable. "Bring him to my office tomorrow. If we're going to protect your mother's legacy, we need to do this right."

He looked like a man who'd been waiting for a while and was deeply uncomfortable about it, but not uncomfortable enough to leave — because Gabriel Ross didn't summon you twice. Thomas had handled my property acquisitions since I'd first set foot in Crescent Harbour. He was sweaty, nervous, and perpetually overdressed for the weather. He was also, without question, the most discreet real estate operator in the city. The man had brokered safe houses for half the shadow players on this coast, and in fifteen years, not a single address had ever leaked. In my world, that kind of silence was worth more than competence. The moment the car came to a halt, Thomas rushed toward me, his face splitting

Thomas pressed the cigarette butt with a bitter smile and looked at the narrow sky through the window in front of him. He had always thought that his eyesight was accurate and he could see everything clearly, but now he felt that his judgment was declining. In this love game, he was worried about gains and losses and was ambiguous. He couldn't see clearly... Jessica walked slowly on the path, crossing the curved arched top on both sides of the path. This was the corridor where Thomas had just ordered the engineer to plant the rosa multiflora thunb. After two years, they would climb all over the flower rack. When the flowers were in full bloom, the flowers would all the way. This would be the

Seating on his right were his two kids: His son Professor Thomas Russell Todd aka ‘TRT’ and his elder sister Professor Helen Russell Todd famously called ‘HRT’ by the Paparazzi. Thomas was happily married with three kids and a beautiful wife who was wise enough to never meddle in her husband’s family affairs. Thomas was 45yrs old and currently the Managing Director of LWP. He was a Professor in the field of medicine from the University of Zurich. Thomas was the younger version of his father. He had an English and Swiss citizenship after spending half his life studying in Switzerland.

Not with the soft-eyed relief I had seen on the faces of people I had defended before, that expression of sudden dependence that I had always found faintly irritating. She was looking at me the way she had looked at the margin note in the Bloodline Records. I had known she would find it, had left the book precisely because she needed to find it. With the focused attention of someone filing new information into an existing structure. Adjusting. Recalibrating. She was not thanking me. She was trying to understand why I had done it. I looked away. "Liam." "Sir." "Cresswell is reassigned to the outer patrol rotation for the next month. Effective immediately."

“You might want to ask him to make more of the cooking and eating surfaces.” Thomas nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” The sweet smell of baked apples wafted through the air. “Mmm... what’s that delicious smell?” “Mrs. Crunch. She makes the best sweet pies. Want one?” He signaled for a nearby boy to grab the reins of his horse after he got off. Thomas wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her down from the horse. “Thanks, my Lord,” she joked. “The pleasure’s all mine, my Lady.” He took her fingers in his and kissed the back of her hand.

Pisces said. Thomas waved his hand in dismissal. He insisted on going on his own. It was because Thomas actually knew Trevor. He did not just know Trevor, but Trevor also used to be a soldier under him! However, due to his fear of death, Thomas had fired him as a punishment. Who would have known that Trevor would head to Celandine City after that and reconnect with Thomas at this time? The only concern was… Trevor recently heard that Thomas had resigned from his government position in the Southland District and Thomas was no longer the God of War. But he did not know that Thomas had gotten back his commander stamp as the God of War in Central City a long time ago.