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The Secret Whisperer
Last Updated : 2024-11-28
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Leila, a young Austrian aristocrat and student in Classics, is drawn into a world of conspiracy and danger when her aunt is involved in a suspicious car accident. Leila travels to her aunt’s chalet to take care of her husky, but soon discovers a body in the drawing room. Terrified, she runs out and bumps into Dick, a nosy English banker who becomes entangled in the mystery. When they return to the drawing room, the body has disappeared. Leila takes the husky for a walk and discovers that the body has been moved to a house recently purchased by another branch of her family. She finds a notebook with encrypted entries in the drawing room and uses her linguistic skills to decode them. She discovers the initials, address, and phone number of someone involved in the plot. Leila calls the number and is warned against getting involved. Undeterred, she discovers a bizarre research center where a conference on German mystical past is taking place.She suspects that there is a bizarre cult operating underground. Leila learns about their plan to topple every democracy in Europe. The cult is after an artifact that may be hidden in her aunt’s chalet. However, this is only the tip of the iceberg. Leila discovers that the aristocratic cult members are pawns in a larger game. They are unknowingly being manipulated to cause disruption in the European banking system using an AI virus.The chaos will cause turmoil in the Euro zone. As Leila and her aunt race against time to stop the virus from being unleashed, they uncover an even more shocking truth: Leila’s own family members are part of the conspiracy. With betrayal and danger at every turn, Leila must use all of her wit to outsmart the cult.
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The Secret Whisperer 17
Tom’s message slid into her inbox like an invitation to regret: Move into my pod across the road. It’s safer, and I can stop worrying about you every five minutes. It was sweet, that “I know better” way Tom had, but Leila wasn’t buying it.She thumbed back a reply. I promised Christina I’d look after the house and Wolfie. No cults or homicidal archaeologists are changing my plans.A sad emoji pinged back. Tom wasn’t giving up, but work had him chained to the Grossman Center until his financial projections were in. He’d miss dinner; the Center was feeding his team.Disappointed but not deterred, Leila decided to clean up Tom’s new place. It was part guilt, part curiosity. She grabbed the spare key, the plastic kind that came with a polished wood veneer to make it look fancier than it was, and let herself in.The pod was pristine, the kind of clean that said either Tom had hired a housekeeper or he’d stopped living like a human being. The only mess in sight was her lipstick, perched smug
Last Updated : 2024-11-28The Secret Whisperer 16
As Leila strolled through the market square, her mind was tangled like a bowl of spaghetti, trying to link the stolen books and the murdered professor. The square was lively for the amount of snow and the temperature well below the freezing point. Vendors peddled their wares by spreading them on fleece blankets, their goods as ragged and random as the spirit of Christmas. Leila walked between the aisles, surrounded by old copper kettles, once fine German porcelain, toy trains, and oak plant stands trying hard not to look bored. One stall caught her eye—a pile of books, mostly battered children’s tales and lonely volumes of the classics not worth much without the rest of the lot. Some books looked interesting, bound in old tooled leather. Then something caught her eye. She spotted a volume in the middle of all that artful chaos. It was a thick, faded book with a tan leather binding. The title, The History and Artifacts of the Ancient Germanic Tribes, was elegantly crafted in gold lett
Last Updated : 2024-11-28The Secret Whisperer 15
The morning after smuggling her aunt Christina out of the hospital felt like the calm before a storm, the kind that sneaks up on you while you’re sitting in a deck chair, thinking everything’s fine until the wind knocks your Martini and soda off the table. Leila had slept about as well as a guilty conscience in a cheap motel. Now, sitting at the café, she waited for Linda Stern, the sharpest reporter on this side of the Alps.Linda breezed in like she owned the joint, her leather jacket creaking, sunglasses low on her nose despite the clouds outside. She was all business, but there was always that edge of mischief about her, like she was permanently one bad idea away from pulling a fast one. She slid into the chair across from Leila, didn’t even bother with the pleasantries.“So,” she said, her voice like whiskey poured over gravel. “What’ve you got for me this time, kid? And don’t tell me it’s a knitting club you want me to expose.”Leila smirked. “Knitting club? Try a cult, Linda. A
Last Updated : 2024-10-12The Secret Whisperer 14
Coffee with Linda left Leila shaken. If Linda had turned up in a dusty library in a mountain village, she would have acted on reliable information. And if Linda reckoned that Yellen's book had disappeared for a reason worth Linda's attention, it was. It is just that good old Linda was that kind of reporter, All these spelled trouble for Leila, no doubt, and not only for her Christina! Leila had a bad feeling about her aunt's accident. She’d left her Christina at the hospital the day before, propped up in one of those sterile, too-white beds, looking more vulnerable than Leila had ever seen her. And now, she was standing outside that same hospital, feet rooted to the pavement as if daring her to turn around. Her aunt wasn’t just resting there; she was a target.Leila still couldn't believe it. The plot was nuttier than anyone had imagined—a centuries-old cult, secret society, AI virus, all the usual suspects when you’re trying to topple European governments in one night. Right? Unless L
Last Updated : 2024-09-21The Secret Whisperer 13
The next morning, Leila opened her eyes and blinked at the unfamiliar room, like she’d woken up in someone else's movie—one where she wasn’t the lead. The only thing she recognized was Wolfie, sprawled out on the other half of the four-poster bed, taking up more space than seemed possible for a dog. The morning light filtered through velvet curtains the color of overripe plums, casting a soft glow over the polished wood floors. The bed looked straight out of a European castle—mahogany, carved with the kind of craftsmanship that screamed, "I’ve got money, and I want you to know it." The sheets were Egyptian cotton, probably with a thread count higher than most people's salaries.Leila pushed herself up, the plush duvet slipping off her shoulders like butter. The room was big—so big, it made most penthouses look like broom closets. Across from her, a marble fireplace stood cold and untouched, its mantel decorated with abstract sculptures that were probably worth more than her house. Abov
Last Updated : 2024-09-20The Secret Whisperer 12
Leila speared an olive off her plate with the kind of laziness that came with a long evening and bad company. The party was getting noisier, guests drifting away towards the library, where the port was served. She noticed Tom’s eyes flicker toward the small curtained alcove in the middle of the corridor. That told her all she needed to know—he’d heard the voices too.Without a word, she gave him a signal, and they slipped out of their seats, moving toward the alcove like a couple of thieves on a job. They ducked behind the heavy velvet curtain across from where the voices were coming, pretending to be locked in some passionate clinch. It was just for show, but felt not at all disagreeable. The curtain was seriously dusty, and it made Leila's eyes itchy. She probably smeared her mascara evenly on her cheeks, but she couldn't care less: the real action was happening behind the curtain opposite.Three voices—two men, one woman—were arguing behind the fabric. AI was the topic, which wasn’t
Last Updated : 2024-09-19The Secret Whisperer 11
Leila stood in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair and trying on different faces like masks in Japanese theatre. She went for “amiable attention,” followed by “quiet confidence,” then “ready-for-anything,” and finally the smirk—“gotcha!” But none of them worked. She gave up, tossed the phone into her velvet Versace bag, and stepped out into the corridor.That’s when it hit her. The door across the hall was wide open, and there he stood—a man in a black tie, looking sharp enough to cut through glass, but there was something off about him. Familiar, too. His stance was casual, but you could tell he was trying too hard. He looked down at Leila—five-foot-nothing in heels—and flashed a grin that could sell ice in Siberia.It was Tom.Leila fought to keep her cool. He moved like a cat, gliding over to her with that silly grin still plastered on his face.“I’m the guest of honor,” he said, like he’d just announced he won the lottery.Leila’s smile didn’t falter. “Pretend we’ve just
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 10
The ball was the last thing on her mind as Leila left the office. She’d just made a deal with a man who wore murder like an expensive suit, and now she had to figure out how to get out of it without ending up in a ditch somewhere.As she walked back down the dim corridor, her head spun. She didn’t plan on killing anyone. She just had to outsmart them. The Rulers might be powerful, but they weren’t the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.Leila climbed into her snowmobile, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. She’d just signed herself up for a deadly game, and her life—other than that—was perfectly normal. She needed to research her target, find out who this K.B. was, and figure out how to play the game without getting caught.But as she thought back to the encrypted notebook, a horrifying realization hit her. This wasn’t some academic journal—it was the diary of a hired killer. The Rulers had sent someone to murder her aunt Christina, and now they were asking Leila to do the same d
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 9
The next morning, Leila walked back into the Grossman Center like she owned the place. She was wearing a navy suit that hugged her curves in all the right places, and the borrowed Chanel bag gave her a look of money and class—two things she was always happy to fake. Inside the bag, she carried the small, leather-bound notebook and a Montblanc pen, feeling like they were about to help her write her way into something big.She breezed past the room with the heraldic plaque—her family crest, still staring back at her like a ghost of bad news—and made her way to the receptionist. The brunette behind the desk glanced up, eyebrows rising, as if she could smell the trouble Leila had brought with her.“Hi, I’m Leila Weinrich. I’m here to see Mr. Grossman,” she said, flashing a smile that carried all the confidence of someone who had nothing to lose.The receptionist’s eyebrows hitched higher. “Do you have an appointment?”Leila leaned against the desk, letting her eyes lock with the brunette’
Last Updated : 2024-09-18
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Her aunt’s winter place was a nineteenth century Belle Epoque, dark brown with orange shutters, adorned with a round turret. The high snowdrifts on both sides of the porch were untouched for several days. Muddy corrugated icicles as thick as Leila’s arm dangerously dangled from the roof.‘I wish somebody would teach that beast to open the door,’ Leila Weinrich whispered with frustration.That was too much to ask of Wolfie. She was a smart dog, sure, but expecting her to be a porter on top of being cute? Not fair! Leila struggled with the shopping bags in one hand and the satchel filled with books dangling from her elbow. She searched her pockets and pulled out the key.She unlocked the front door and budged through the dusky hall that smelled of open fire. The antique set of German armor gleamed at her with fresh polish. She turned left into the narrow corridor, and pushed the door to the drawing room open. She was surprised the dog didn’t show up.‘Wolfie!’ Leila called out.The capr...
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