Novels by Pen forge

The very air at the run–down apartment of Mr. Bobby froze as Thompson Montclair, the billionaire oil landed— offering fortunes to Carl. Anyone would have jumped at this offer, grab it before it slips off but there stood Carl, his expression flat and unreadable like he'd simply heard Thompson speaking about dashing out cheese!Mr. Bobby swallowed, his wrinkled pants which were held with rope rather than a belt slipped below his waist, the broadcast from his radio fading in his ear. Yesterday, this poor looking man, Carl, had come to rent his apartment. He came with nothing but a scuffed bag but paid immediately while most tenants would still ask for discounts.His eyes squinted on Carl. Was it luck? Because what could make a billionaire, a whole Thompson Montclair! Comes to his cramped apartment for this man. Or what could his identity really be?! Maybe the worn out ensembles are just a phony facade for his actual identit...His thoughts were suddenly jammed by Carl's response. He cho

SCREECHES!!The sound of tires, not one, not two...Six fucking lavish cars, tore through the air like bullets, Chrome accents, the hoods glinting under the sun, sharp, calling quick attentions. These are no ordinary cars and especially, it was a convoy— four Aston Martin Valkyrie flanked a Keonigsegg Jesko.This view was spectacular and jaw dropping. People in the low–income neighborhood stopped, staring like they've seen angels dropped from heaven, phones dangled in the air, flashing lights on the rides.What could a billionaire be doing in their Gutterline district?Then, before the cars even stopped completely, the door of the Keonigsegg Jesko yanked open and Thompson Montclair jumped down as though the seat had long caught fire under his butt!His suit was sharp but loose, his shoe caked in dust from endless search for the man who saved his life at Van Cleef. Groomed guards in crisp black suits swung out from the other cars, their eyes shielded with matte black sunglasses. Their

“It was Elira Kessington.”Cassandra leaned forward, her finger stopped tapping and her head lifted, eyes flashed with shock.“You mean my old time friend was the one who murdered Alex Maranzano?" Klass nodded, eyes sharp like a bullet. “She was drunk from a night party and she crashed into Alex but It was Carl who took charge of the crime maybe because he doesn't want his wife in prison.”Cassandra lifted a single sculpted brow “They're married?”“Something close to divorce. Carl was betrayed by Elira .” Klass tapped on the screen again and stretched the Tab to her boss.Cassandra collected it and watched. Displayed on the screen was the video from yesterday's birthday party at Kessings ballroom.How Carl was humiliated in front of everyone and what Cassandra saw again made her stomach churn.Henry.That scumbag. Barely 24 hrs after their marriage arrangements fell apart, he had proposed to another woman, her old time friend. Elira Kessington.And she'd discarded the man who took

The ballroom fell under Hush like they had seen a ghost walk inside the hall.Elira's gaze locked on Carl, her expression shifting between surprise and confusion like she wasn't expecting to see him.. maybe see him alive and for that fleeting moment, a flicker of guilt flashed in her eyes.Then, murmurs. “Isn't that the useless son-in-law?”“Yes, the criminal who killed the son of the governor.” “He looks really miserable. Trash!" Another spat.Before Carl could get closer to the stage, Sarah, Elira's mother tottered forward, her eyes simmering with anger. She blocked his path, her gown catching the light like fire.“You? What are you doing here you criminal!?” She fired, her words careless, a frantic stab on Carl's Body.She glared at him, her face twisted into frown, like she wasn't the same woman that had cried on her knee, rolling on the floor and pleading three years ago to take blame for the crime her daughter committed. Now she'd just spat it into his face, called him a crim

Carl walked inside. He stood at the extreme of the hall, in the sea of tailored suits and glowing gowns. Murmurs of Detests surrounded him, like his presence had poured salt in their wine but didn't look at them. He settled at the back, the box of fortune resting on his lap. His eyes locked on Elira. He smiled, drinking in her gorgeous appearance. She retained that beauty that always makes his heart flutter and fluctuates.Elira grabbed the microphone and the hall hushed, the hums of conversations dimmed and the clinking of glasses halted.“Welcome, welcome to a night of win. A night of jubilation. This is more than a celebration. It is a dream coming true,” He voice soared, the stage light bathing her like halo. She clicked forward. “This night is not just about me. It is about you. About everyone here who had supported Kessing Enterprise. I couldn't have done it alone and I'm grateful you supported a small girl. Welcome. And happy birthday to me.” She smiled at her own statement.Th

Stepping out of Van Cleef, Carl walked into a scene. People were watching with hearts in their mouths, some with hands laid on their head, some with jaws falling apart and eyes wide in horror.People crowded a convoy, the first car, an Aston Martin DB11. Securities in black suits tried to move push the crowd back. The street buzzed with murmurs.Carl wondered what was happening but he didn't linger. He continued walking. Maybe some Celebrities had shown face at Van cleef but the whir of an Ambulance added to the chaos in the air.Carl's attention pricked. He turned, the box containing the heritage of Bloom resting in his hand.“What is going on?" He stopped.Celebrities have funny and unbelievable ways of making an entrance. He remembered watching a massive concert where the main celebrity host arrived in a casket. Maybe one had decided to Grace Van Cleef in an ambulance.But when the Securities pushed the crowd back, Carl saw it. It wasn't a celebrity showing up but an old man dying.