BACK IN MR. TOM'S APARTMENT. Tom walked towards the stranger, eager to understand if there was anything wrong. He sat on the other side of the chair, picked up a newspaper, and began to look into it, though he wasn't reading. He was searching for the best approach to start a lengthy conversation.He cleared his throat, "Err... Eer... mm. What did you say your name was?" Tom asked, his face still buried in the pages."David, sir. David Lesnar," he replied."That's a good name. I once had a friend named David, but his last name wasn't Lesnar; it was David Jones. He was a good man," Tom replied, trying to sound friendly. "What do you do for work? What about your parents?" he continued."I work with the Hush Company, a branch of Lakesville Land and Housing Co.," David began. Before now, three things had introduced him to Tom, as they always said, 'As you dress, so shall you be addressed.' Tom had assessed his outfit, and his looks, and looked out for a sign of wealth like Brown's, but fo
Gasping for breath, David ducked behind a car, trying to catch his bearings. "What the hell just happened?" he muttered to himself.He glanced back at the house, but Roosevelt was nowhere to be seen. "Roosevelt!" he called out, but there was no response.Realizing he was on his own, David scanned the area for any sign of pursuit. The night seemed eerily quiet, but he knew he couldn't stay in one place for long. He needed to find a way to disappear, at least for the night.With cautious steps, David moved away from the house and towards the main road. His mind raced with thoughts of what had just transpired. Why had Tom reacted so violently? And where was Roosevelt now?As he walked, David kept to the shadows, avoiding any streetlights that could give him away. He needed to find a place to hide, at least until he could figure out his next move.A small alley caught his eye, and without hesitation, he slipped into it, hoping it would lead to a safer place. The alley was dark and narrow,
The call lingered for some hours, the silence thick with tension as Eleanor's tone sounded surprised."I feel we've got a greater emergency, young master," the helplessness in her face was vivid."Don't be so worried," Romsey replied with a cold and unshaken demeanor, though beneath his calm exterior, a storm of worry churned."She's not breathing anymore, Ma," the last words from the guards sounded like a great shock to Eleanor, her voice trembling with fear."Speed this up!!" she yelled at Robson, her desperation evident as she urged him to speed up the car.*****In some minutes, they turned into the parking lot at Zeniths Medical Center, the flashing lights and frantic movements of the medical staff creating a sense of urgency."Help! Please!!, Help!" Eleanor's cries pierced the chaos, her desperation echoing through the corridors of the hospital.she rushed into the hallway, her heart pounding with fear as she prayed for a miracle, while Romsey's demeanor continued to be cold as h
AT LUCAS' OFFICE. In the heart of the bustling corporate headquarters stands the office of the Managing Director of the Pinnacles Resort, a sanctuary of sophistication and style.Lucas arrives at work early enough to embrace his new appointment as the MD of the Pinnacles Resort with a confident stride, he enters his new office, his posture erect and his expression smug. His eyes sweep over the luxurious surroundings, taking in every detail with a hint of satisfaction. He moves towards the oak desk, his steps purposeful, and settles into the leather chair with an air of entitlement. The entrance, marked by a grand mahogany door with beautiful carvings, opens to reveal a spacious and impeccably designed room.The focal point of the office is a majestic oak desk, meticulously arranged with a sleek laptop, a stack of leather-bound notebooks, and a gleaming nameplate that reads " LUCAS BIDEN(MD)." Behind the desk, a floor-to-ceiling window offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline
Dickson arrives timely at the Global Resort, an hotel in the outskirts of Montreal. The Global Resort was always noted for its grandeur and high-standing reputation, a classic and outstanding hotel in the city of California. Dickson stopped his Vespa bike at the parking garage, jumped down, and pulled off his helmet. Drops of sweat rushing down his face, as though hurrying to kiss his lips; he wiped them off with his fingers. "Hey man, De Robert Deliveries," he said, pointing out his card to the security guard who posed at the gate. "Go towards that entrance; you'll find the receptionist table right in front," the security said, directing Dickson to the inner room. "Thanks, man," Dickson replied with a smile as he walked into the spacious room. "Delivery package to be delivered in person, no payment made," Dickson said, his brows raised as he talked to the lady who sat at the receptionist table. "Room 064, sir. Please take this way up," she said, pointing lazily to the hallway.
Julie couldn't believe her eyes; a sense of remorse set in. But as she turned to the man, she knew that she had to make a choice, and the better choice wasn't Dickson. A sharp feeling of indifference set in."Fuck off, b*tch, who's this dude?" The man asked in surprise, his hands tightened to a towel which hung closely to his waist.Julie turned to him, "He's just a nobody, dear," her voice sounding calm and gentle."You don't know who?" Dickson replied in haste, his fists tightened as he walked closer to her."How dare you come here in the first place?" Julie questioned him, the urgency in her voice clear."Walk out of here! Have it in mind that I have nothing to do with you. I can't waste all my years with a puppet like you. If you don't deliver goods, we can't eat at home. Will I have to wait for you to finish your deliveries before I get a gift, money, and so on?" Julie questioned, staring at Dickson with a raised chin and a tight jaw.The words sank right into Dickson, piercing h
Eleanor walked sluggishly into the room, having received the info of their flight back to Chicago. She never wanted to return to a clingy and busy environment like her home in Chicago.Romsey sat, his face buried in a newspaper, "The Times," which sounded more different, more subdued, more questioning than it used to be. Even the looks on the guards' faces were different, except for Robson, who was happy that he would reunite with his wife and daughter.Romsey dropped the paper on the table, looking at Eleanor. "You didn't tell me everything you wanted to," he said. She smiled. "You will find out more, young master," her face showing a mixture of pleasure and turmoil.She thought of the strict nature of her father, who would always insist that she take over one of the mini-companies. Eleanor preferred having personal time at the beach, her leisure time playing the piano and, of course, reading novels, her favorite being the urban genre where several male leads get humiliated by female
As the sun began its ascent over the city of Canada, casting a soft glow over the landscape, Romsey and Eleanor stepped out of their luxurious mansion, flanked by a team of guards. Today was the day they would embark on their journey, and anticipation hung in the air.Romsey was dressed in a striking blue suit that exuded sophistication and class. The suit, a custom creation from a top designer, was rumored to have cost a highl fortune of $100,000, with every detail meticulously crafted to perfection. The fabric was the finest wool, sourced from the most exclusive mills, and the cut was so precise it seemed as though it had been tailored to his body alone. His tie was a masterpiece from a renowned Italian designer, its rich colors and stylish patterns catching the light with his every movement.On his feet, Romsey wore a pair of handmade Italian leather shoes, a limited edition design from a luxury brand that commanded a hefty price tag of $180,000. The shoes were a statement piece,