Tomorrow Will Be Better: A Novel Novels & Stories

And murder is a cure… Tomorrow. Their wedding day. The start of the end.

After the tour Rosa and Sofia thanked Will and went back to their room. They were exhausted and decided to take a nap till dinner time but suddenly Rosa remembered that she left the book which she borrowed in the library so she rushed back to the library. After taking the book she was heading back but stopped as she saw a faint reddish glow at the corner of the library. Out of curiosity she went there but what she saw there scared her out of her wits. She would have never imagined it in her wildest dreams.

Enrico left me, and now I have nowhere to go, no place to call my own. I've spent days and months here, reflecting on the course of my life, passing time in the casino to distract myself. I need to buy a new apartment to settle down after all this. Luckily, there's always some wealthy fool willing to trade his money for a night or two. I don’t care as long as I get what I want. My body is already rotten; all that’s left now is survival.

Tomorrow, triumph would be mine, bitter as ashes upon my tongue. Tomorrow, I will get what I want. Tomorrow, she will fall. And Aiden would be mine.

But tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, I would be the groom standing beside Alora while Stanley would be in chains. I'd spent months planning this moment, calling in favors from old contacts, arranging for certain services that specialized in making problems disappear. Stanley had cost me everything once—my reputation, my livelihood, my future. But now I was going to take everything from him. His bride, his happiness, his freedom. The car glided through the familiar streets, past buildings and landmarks that held fragments of my former life. Soon we'd reach the hotel where I'd spend my last night as Charles Morrison, failed businessman and exile.

“Tomorrow changes everything. We expose the Hugos, clear the air. Then we go back to New Zealand—to our life, our family.” He smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “I can’t wait for that.” I closed my eyes, letting his fingers trace lazy circles on my skin. The fear was still there, lingering beneath the surface, but so was hope. Tomorrow was the beginning of something new. For me, for the baby growing inside me, and for us. The next morning. I woke to the soft rustle of linen and the scent of espresso drifting in from the hallway. For a moment, I forgot where I was.Then I remembered—the villa, the recordings, the plan. The Valerian or let's say the Hugos.

The man before him was a version of Seth from the future, a version that had seen more pain and suffering than Seth could ever imagine. “Where did you come from?” Seth asked, his voice trembling. “I’ve been here, waiting for you,” the future Seth said, his voice hoarse. “You’re me from the past. I’m the future that awaits you if you don’t stop looking for Tamera.” Seth stood frozen, the words sinking in. His heart skipped a beat as the future Seth turned slowly, showing him the wreckage. It was as if the destruction of the world itself had become his future, the very land they stood on a testament to failure.

She did not turn. "You need to sleep," Noah said. Lena released a breath. "So do you." A moment. Then—"We have to be prepared for anything." She finally turned to look at him. There was worry in his eyes. "We will," she said. He paused, then turned away. "See you tomorrow." As he disappeared into the night, Lena balled her hands into fists. Tomorrow, everything will change. They moved the following night. Black clothes. Quiet weapons. Figures moving at night.

Which was almost worse, like the writer hadn’t even bothered to pretend this was private—like they wanted her to read it right away. Ava hesitated, then slid a finger beneath the fold and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The handwriting was neat but quick, the kind of script that looked like it had been scrawled in a hurry, as though every second mattered. It read: Tomorrow, do not take the shortcut home. If you do, he will never wake up. There was no greeting. No signature. Just one word at the bottom, pressed harder into the paper than the rest, as though the pen had nearly torn through.

I closed my eyes slowly and let sleep take me without fighting it this time, trusting that tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not and that maybe, just maybe, I was finally moving toward something better even if I couldn’t fully see it yet and maybe that was okay for now. *****