Misterio Novels & Stories

She took out his box and said, “I found these sticky notes in your box. These are my sticky notes for the mystery person who always gave me porridge.” He widened his eyes in shock and speechless. She continued, “I just realised that you have the same handwriting as the mystery person.” She took a deep breath and coldly asked, “Who are you?” He swallowed hard and replied, “Fiya, I can explain.” “Explain to me. Right now. Right here. Who are you?” she said, glaring at him. He let out a breath and said, “I admit that I was the mystery person you talked about. I'm Mr M, the one who always gave you porridge every weekend.”

Mister went back the castle and he walked in to a total disaster. It was just a disgusting mess. There was unfinished party decorations and dead sprites everywhere. He went back to his rooms and called Zeek's phone but he got no answer. "Shit!" Mister shouted as he threw the phone on his bed and went to change his clothes.

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I’m staring at the photo on the screen. I would be lying if I said he didn’t cross my mind in the past month but I started to forget what he looked like. Now the memories flood back in. His face is unsmiling here but he still looks handsome. I read the news crawl. He’s Diego Santoro, millionaire businessman. I’ve heard that name before, wealthy beyond imagination and rumored to be part of the mafia. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Dmitri spat out blood in my direction, an act of disrespect. I stood up from the chair and walked closer to him, raising his chin so he could take a look at me. "Unlike your miserable father, I am the biggest Mafia Lord in the entire city. Every single one of my enemies fears me, and they all have the right to do so. I am showing you mercy by exchanging your freedom for that of your sister, you should be thankful." I let go afterward, and with one last look at him, I walked out of the room.

She muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, turning to the chef. “You heard her, didn’t you?” He asked and the maid nodded, heading back to the open kitchen. Chiara’s gaze flicked to the other man sitting across from Dante. He had black hair, light olive skin and a small black moustache under his nose. He was the only person she knew nothing about. The man, seeming to notice her curious stare, looked up and flashed her a slight grin. “I’m Nico, Dante’s best friend.”

He trusted my instincts the way I trusted his and that trust was one of the most valuable things in my life. "Noah wants pasta tonight," I said. A beat. Then a sound that was almost a laugh. "I will bring the good sauce." "Please," I said. I ended the call. Opened my laptop. Returned to work. Somewhere across the city Vanessa Moretti was watching the coverage of her own interview and waiting for it to do what she had designed it to do. She was going to be waiting for a while. Because the woman she had designed it to damage had outgrown the version of herself that could be damaged by it. She was still fighting someone who no longer existed. Still throwing things at a door that had been closed

Did you sleep well? - Yes, Jennifer replies with a deadly look, I slept well, darling. - Slept well, master, Aïcha responds. - Are you ready for work? - No, I’m not going today, Jennifer tells me. - Why? Are you sick? - Yes, she still looks very angry at me. After eating, I call the three young girls into my office where I find Mario waiting for me. - Hello, Mario. - Hello, boss. - Hello everyone, I didn’t introduce myself officially; my name is Carlos Castro Vargas, the godfather of the Mexican mafia known as the royal eagle.

Who hides a patriarch's death unless the story surrounding it is poison? I went into my office, closed the door, and picked up the phone. "Find me someone discreet," I told my secretary. "Not one of our in-house lawyers. Not the usual auditors. I want a man who digs where others are too afraid to." Within the hour, I had a name. Marcus Veyra. Ex-police, reputation for finding what others buried. He wasn't cheap, but truth never was. When he walked into my office later that afternoon, he wasn't the kind of man who bowed to titles. Rough edges, a coat that had seen better days, a stare that had seen worse.

What? He wants me to quit? "Senhor Na..." I started talking and he got up screaming to interrupt me. "FOR YOU MISS ROSHE, IT’S ONLY MR ALBUQUERQUE. HEARD? NATHAN IS ONLY FOR MY FRIENDS AND RELATIVES. ARE YOU SOMETHING LIKE THAT TO ME?" Nathan is very close, so close that I can feel his mint breath and his woody scent. He’s even scarier up close, his eyes seem to want to freeze me alive.