Who Is The Son Of Undertaker Novels & Stories

One of them was the young master of the Witch Doctor Sect—Levi Bayer. The man looked at James and said with a frown, “Dad, the time has long passed. Why haven’t you learned how to control your temper yet? Look at you. You are already so old. How long more do you have to live? Could it be that you don’t want to have someone to look after you and arrange a proper burial after your death?” It turned out that this man was James’s son and Cheryl’s father—Franklin Coney. “Even if I’m dead, I don’t need you to give me a burial! Get lost!” James was so angry that he roared, his eyes bloodshot.

It's all vague and foggy. Within a few minutes, my research brings out the news on Reynolds' funeral. Oh, my, he's the son of King Hunter Noir the Twenty-third. Trust me, I don't know much about their family, but they are stinkingly rich. You know that kind of old money rich, where their generations go by weird titles, own multiple streets in different states, and the government has nothing on them. Yes, that is the Hunter family.

His life and the life of his son were in Warren's hands at that moment. "But don't you worry. I will not kill either one of you for the moment. I first want to thank you for giving me Chamberlain Pharmacy, it will make an excellent addition to the rest of my companies," Warren said in a condescending manner. Christopher was shell-shocked. The son of Johnathan Parker, who Charles offended was the owner of the Heavenly Sky Diner. Not only did Charles offend him, he even went as far as to kill his parents. No wonder Warren was so pissed at him.

I am pretty sure that Quinn saw it as well. “Draven you have nothing to worry about. We both like you and approve of the two of you. The fact that you can handle my granddaughter speaks for itself.” Lucien comments. I see Draven let out a breath, but Nalena doesn’t move. She stays where she is. I just shake my head. I look at Nalena, and she begins to tell her dad what is going on. She does let Dax and Jax take over so they can explain the whole testing part. Dad explains that whoever this guy is, he is my long-dead Uncle's son. Lucien says that he remembers hearing about my Uncle challenging dad and that he lost. Quinn says that he did know my Uncle and that they were not friends,

He stiffened; the pendulum was swaying faster now, his mind turned into a jigsaw puzzle and the final piece fit into place. Four men. Influential giants. Two men dead; Ayodele and Yetunde. Both equally influential. Catholics. Four plus two equals six. Six, the symbolic number for the Sons. Six, the number of members allowed to be in the cult in a century. They are what are left of the Sons of Hades. And me, where do I fit in? Lex answered his own question. His floating brows dropped. I'm the fifth Son, Lex realized. “I trust you now understand what's going on,” Masked man interrupts his thoughts. “We begin immediately.”

he asked, concerned. She didn't even notice. "Yeah, you can continue." she smiled reassuringly. He stared at her, not entirely convinced. "Okay, then we have Reaper, my brother, and Apprentice. If I were to die without an heir, Parker would be appointed the position of Mafia King. Much like Jack, he is my personal advisor. He ensures that politicians, law enforcement, and government officials stay out of our way. But Parker comes from a dark past like most of us. He was homeless, living on the streets until my father spotted him scavenging for food. My father must have seen something in him that Parker didn't even see in himself cause, like Cassian, my father took him in and treated him like

I did not look back, so I did not see Julian Sterling standing lost and hollow behind a pine tree not far away. He watched my departing back, then looked at the nameless stone. A strange, sharp pain rose in his chest. He stopped the cemetery keeper nearby, his voice dry. "Excuse me... who is buried under this nameless stone?" The keeper rolled his eyes impatiently and opened an old burial register. "You people come to sweep graves and don't even know whose grave it is? It's written right here." He pointed to the line and read aloud. "This grave was set up three years ago by Ms. Caroline Eckhart herself. It belongs to her son, who died before he could live.

"Regina... what are you..." "I'm not Regina," I cut him off coldly. "I never was." I turned and picked up Caleb's urn. "I'm just a mother who lost her son. Now, it's time to get justice for him."

he uttered, causing me to stop in my tracks. “The what?” I asked, bewildered. Uncle started pacing. “One of your father’s victims was Roger, the most powerful and ruthless mafia boss in the underground world,” he explained, and the mention of that name sent chills down my spine. “He had three triplet sons whom he groomed to be as evil as him. Your father spared them when he took down Roger,” my uncle continued. “Though I wanted him to eliminate those triplets, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Now they’re determined to wipe out our bloodline,” he finished, disgust evident in his eyes.

“You’re… you’re actually angry? Over money? Sofia, it’s nothing! A rounding error! And I only brought the card you gave me. How am I supposed to get home? I even bought you a gift! You’ve embarrassed me!” There it was. The faux apology, the crumb of a gift, designed to shut me up and make me compliant. It had worked for years. Not anymore. The weight of his father’s coffin was heavier. “Your father’s funeral is in three days,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “If you care to pay your respects, be there.” I moved to hang up. “Wait!” His tone shifted, a crack of uncertainty. “The same lie? This is about the money, isn’t it? The half-million? You’re that petty?”