Mabel Sanders stepped out of her car and stared at the door of Arthur McDoyle's house. The last time she had been in there she had been the mastermind of an amazingly great plan, a plan which had surprisingly ended up being a miserable fail. Something which would probably not have happened if she hadn't overslept. It was always the little things that caused the ruin of great things. She briefly remembered some saying about the little foxes spoiling the vine. She had decided to get "a little" sleep and had woken up to watch her well thought out plan crash and burn. A thought which caused her to grimace and look away. Bloody hell!! She had really been on a high horse with that plan and now the horse had dropped her really low. How the hell was she supposed to face Arthur McDoyle now? She had been so embarrassed that she had stalled in communicating with him for a while, as a matter of fact, she hadn't heard from him since a week ago when she had called him to get the hell out of Bobby's

Mabel stared at Arthur but somehow felt like she wasn't looking at Arthur. She recognized his face to be Arthur's but she had never seen him wear a facial expression like the one he wore at the moment and she had also never seen him with the look in his eyes. He looked borderline deranged. He held her gaze in an intense glare and his mouth held a sinister grin. The man before her looked maniacal and she felt deeply unsettled and scared. He looked like he could harm her greatly if she made the wrong move and she knew he could sense her fear because as he stared at her his grin widened and she felt like he would make a good job of giving a maniacal laugh if he tried to at that moment. She wanted nothing more but to have this man as far away from her as possible and she wanted it really soon. She felt like she could panic if he was still so in her space in the next few seconds. If she was just a girl in a book or a movie then the doorbell would go off at that instant and he would have t

On the roof of the building from which he has just shot Richard Bolton a few seconds ago, Arthur McDoyle brought out a small paper envelope from the pocket of his brown cargo pants, opened it and smiled at the content; what better way was there to seal the deal than planting direct evidence against Chris Bolton at the scene?? He could almost laugh at his brilliance. He was a freaking genius. He looked back to where there was still a commotion around Richard Bolton. The bastard had lost consciousness and his guards were in the process of getting him back into the vehicle. Wait. Why was no one looking around to know where the bullet had been fired from?? That was not right. He needed to get their attention so they would head to where he was at that moment to retrieve the gun. Quickly, he took another shot at the vehicle but missed and that finally had one of the guards turning around as he tried to identify where the shots were being fired from. The plan had been for him to fire one sho

Chris Bolton bolted up in the hammock and stared at the headline which had popped up on his notification bar few seconds ago. "Thomas Bolton: Back to Being Without an Heir?" What the hell was that about?? Had something happened to Richard?? He quickly tapped on the notification and was directed to the news site where he quickly ran his eye through the story. Shit. Richard had been shot and was apparently in critical condition because the bullet had barely missed his heart. That wasn't good at all. Yes, Richard had betrayed him but he didn't want him dead. Not satisfied with just reading the story, Chris got out of the hammock hurried into his room where he grabbed the remote controller and powered his TV then scrolled through the channels to find any news channel that was covering the story. He found one eventually and stood rooted to the spot and watched as Richard stepped out of the car, only to be shot straight in the chest few seconds later. As he watched, the Richard on screen cl

As Thomas Bolton's convoy pulled up into the parking lot of the hospital, Thomas' phone rang on his leg and he looked at it - it was the cop he had called to go pick up the hair strand. "Have you picked it up now?" He asked as soon as he took the phone to his ear. "Yes," the cop replied gruffly."Good." Thomas said then asked "How long is it going to take before the results are ready?" "At least 4-5 days," the cop responded nonchalantly and Thomas almost snapped at him. The hell he would wait for '4-5 days'!!!! He wanted those results as soon as possible. "That's too far. I want them sooner," Thomas said. "Well, I'll try my best to get them for you in three days, but you're going to have to double my fee." the cop said with the same nonchalance. "I''ll triple it if you get me the damned results in two days," Thomas said and hung up without waiting for a reply. He knew the cop would get him the results soon because that was what dirty cops like himself did; they sang for t