Leila, a student of ancient civilizations goes to Swiss Alps to look after the dog of her aunt. And discovers a dead body in a living room. Still in shock, she gets distracted by intrusive, nosy neighbor who invites himself to the living room. Terrified, she looks at the place where she had seen the body but to her horror and relief there is nothing there: the dead body had mysteriously disappeared. Puzzled, Leila determined to uncover the mystery, and finds herself in the midst of dangerous game played by two ancient clans who are racing against time to find an ancient artifact that once belonged to a powerful ancient Queen. Leila is not prepared to face the deadly trouble she got herself into, and only her knowledge of ancient languages and her devoted boyfriend help her to stay alive and save the tiny Swiss village in the mountains from destruction.
View MoreThe next morning, Leila opened her eyes and didn’t recognize the room. The only familiar object was Wolfie, a massive fluffy dog sprawled across the other half of the enormous four-poster bed. Sunlight streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows draped in velvet curtains the color of ripe plums, casting a warm glow over the polished wood floors. The bed itself was a masterpiece—mahogany, carved with an intricate pattern that hinted at old-world craftsmanship, but its newness was unmistakable. The room screamed wealth, from the silk sheets to the high thread-count linens that practically melted against her skin.She sat up, the plush duvet sliding off her shoulders, and let her gaze wander. The room was vast, larger than most people’s houses. A marble fireplace, cold now but still imposing, stood across from her, its mantel adorned with sleek sculptures and a single, rather fine piece of modern art. Above the fireplace, a flat-screen TV that could’ve easily doubled as a movie theater
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’
Leila stood in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair and trying on different faces like they were masks. 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 met,” sh
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
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’
Once the lecture was on break, Leila approached Dr. Sanchez, her eyes innocent, her steps hesitant.“Excuse me, Dr. Sanchez,” Leila said, her voice low, “do you know Professor Eduard Yellen personally?”Dr. Sanchez’s warm smile faded just a little, a flicker of concern crossing her face. “Of course. Why do you ask?”Leila didn’t hesitate any longer. “I found a black notebook with the same initials—E.Y. I think it might belong to him.”Dr. Sanchez’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? It could be one of the notebooks everyone’s been looking for. His notes—they went missing along with him. They’re of immense scientific value.”Leila shifted, pulling her phone from her bag and switching it off. She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me more.”Dr. Sanchez fished out her own phone, put it on silent, and then began to speak, her voice now cautious. “Yellen was an archaeologist—brilliant but eccentric. He specialized in ancient artifacts. A few days ago he vanished. Gone, w
Leila parked the snowmobile in the shed, her breath sharp and cold in the crisp air. Her cheeks were red and chapped from the icy wind, but she didn’t mind. Her trip to the village wasn’t a waste of time. Now she had something to work with.She unlocked the front door and walked straight past her bags, snatching up the dead man’s little black notebook. The first page was practically empty, save for two letters scrawled neatly in the top right corner: “B” and “E.” Leila frowned. Most people would assume they were initials, but the cryptic way the rest of the notebook was written made her doubt it. She pulled out her iPad and typed in a few guesses. If she was right, those letters weren’t “B” and “E” at all. They translated to something else entirely: E.Y.Eduard? Edgar? Erasmus? she mused, rolling the names around in her head. But no matter how many names she thought of, nothing clicked. Whoever this E.Y. was, he wasn’t making it easy.Leila settled onto Christina’s sofa with the noteb
As they stepped outside, Wolfie started behaving even more strangely. Instead of heading home, she tugged at Leila’s leash and led her around the corner, where a stack of rotting wooden boards sat ominously. The dog’s hair stood up as she growled and bared her teeth.Leila couldn’t help but feel frightened. She was totally ready to bolt back to her aunt’s chalet and lock all the doors behind her. But curiosity got the best of her again and she stayed put, only to have Wolfie suddenly break free from her leash and run off towards the far end of the garden.What had spooked the usually fearless husky? Leila couldn’t say for sure. She let out a shrill cry, her voice echoing through the deserted alley. “Wolfie, come back here this instant, you disobedient mutt!” But the canine culprit had already disappeared into the yellow foliage, leaving Leila to navigate her way through the narrow gap and into the snow-cleared alleyway. And there, sitting innocently in the middle of it all, was Wolfie
Tom sent Leila a last-minute text from the bustling streets of New York, on his way to a job interview. She replied with a quick message of luck, but conveniently left out any mention of her adventures. Leila couldn’t deny it any longer - her daydreaming version of events simply didn’t add up. The truth was staring her in the face like a dead body in a drawing room. And as she pondered how to break the news to Tom, she couldn’t help but think that sometimes ignorance is a bliss.But of course, as fate would have it, Wolfie had to ruin that little bubble of denial. When Leila walked the fluffy pooch up to the unlocked door, she suddenly turned into Cujo and let out an intimidating growl. Where was that aggression earlier? Must’ve slept through that bloody murder like a lazy bum.As Leila opened the door, she couldn’t ignore the trail of destruction outside. Someone had made quite the spectacle trying to ski after a blizzard - leaving behind blue potholes and scars for fifty meters. And
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