LOGINShare
6
Last Updated:
2024-09-18 18:34:27As 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 herself - looking like a fluffy stuffed toy. Leila’s indignant scolding quickly turned to awe and adoration at that sweet sight. She looked back at the old chalet, and couldn’t deny that it would make for a perfect setting for a Halloween bash. With the sun hiding behind a cloud and the shadows creeping in, even Wolfie seemed to agree that they were better off steering clear of this strange place. But just as they thought they were in the clear, Leila spotted Nosy Dick - standing by that same broken bench they had passed earlier on their stroll. Thankfully, Wolfie’s curious nature had led them down a different path or else they would have been caught red-handed by the nosy Englishman. Putting on her innocent smile, Leila casually picked up a branch with two large pine cones still attached - using it as a distraction from Dick’s intrusive questions. “Just taking my aunt’s husky for exercise,” she said with a coy smile. “You know how energetic huskies can be.”
‘Well, not quite. But taking your word for it,’ Nosy Dick replied.
“Look at that dilapidated heap,” Leila exclaimed suddenly, pointing to the abandoned chalet. “Who owns it?” she asked innocently. “Looks like it’s been uninhabited for ages.”
“It was, for sometime,” Nosy Dick confirmed. “Old Stephan Weinrich used to come here every winter, but the old bastard kicked the bucket ten years ago. His brood couldn’t agree on whether to sell or renovate the place. Their fortune had dried up by the time Stephan passed away. But now, there’s a new owner - Stephan’s nephew. He worked in London for all these years and made quite a bit of cash.”
“A successful trader?” Leila raised an eyebrow.
“A fund manager,” Dick grumbled. “A shady character if you ask me. Wouldn’t last a day in my firm.” Leila had heard from her aunt that Nosy Dick never had anything nice to say about anyone, yet she found herself warming up to the old Englishman.
As it turned out, Leila came from a different branch of Weinrichs and her grandfather was estranged from his cousin Stephan. No one ever explained why. It was an old family secret.
“Why do you think he’s shady?” Leila prodded with curiosity.
Dick scowled as if he had swallowed a stink bug.
“I don’t like speaking ill of people,” he grumbled. “But I’ll tell you this - he showed up here once with a flashy Russian ‘oligarch’ as they call them. They were driving the biggest and ugliest car I’ve ever seen. Young Weinrich had a lot of Russian clients back in his City days.”
“And now?”
“Now, he’s planning to demolish that old wreck and build some monstrosity in its place. Four stories high, eight bathrooms, and two swimming pools. I’ve seen the plans. It’s a nightmare,” Dick scoffed. “Designed by some crazy Russian architect. And today, young Weinrich is bringing in the contractors. You might catch a glimpse of him.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Leila replied with a sly smile. “And you, Mr. Jones, seem to be well-informed about this whole situation. Did the young fund manager confide in you?”
“Well, not exactly. But you know how it is in the City, secrets don’t stay hidden for long,” drawled Dick Jones with an unpleasant grin. He held up his hand, as if to add weight to his words.
Suddenly, Wolfie’s snarls interrupted the conversation. Nosy Dick recoiled and stammered in a high-pitched voice, “Why is she growling? Where is her muzzle? A dangerous dog like that should be wearing one!”
Leila chuckled, “Oh, Wolfie is just being her usual self. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Squirrels, on the other hand…”
The former banker nervously agreed, “Yes, yes. But today she seems…off. Is she sick? Is she a danger to others?”
Leila shrugged nonchalantly, “No, no. She’s just in an odd mood because she’s on heat. That’s why I keep her on a leash at all times.”
Nosy Dick nodded quickly and scurried away like a scared mouse. Leila watched him go with amusement before spotting a man walking towards them from around the corner, followed by a white mini bus.
“Come on Wolfie, let’s head home,” Leila said, suddenly feeling like a cup of hot chocolate. Wolfe eagerly pulled ahead and Leila struggled to keep up with her, not quite enjoying her unintentional exercise.
+++
In the meantime, a faded white van rolled up to the rusty gates of abandoned chalet, its engine sputtering and wheezing. A stout blonde man in his fifties barked orders, directing the van towards the entrance. The man next to him, a smaller individual with dark eyes and a crushed cap on his head, obediently hopped out and cleared a path through the snow with a flimsy green shovel. The van lurched over potholes, finally arriving at the decrepit building.
The stocky man stepped out of the van, strutting around as if he owned the place. He demanded his companion, Radek, unload their tools. But Radek hesitated, pointing to a pile of decaying boards blocking their entryway.
“Move that trash out of the way!” The boss roared impatiently.
Radek scurried like an ant around a fallen tree, dutifully moving each board aside. But suddenly he froze, his face blanching in terror.
“What’s wrong with you?” The boss shouted. “Lunch break isn’t for another three hours!”
“Pan Rghevsky…” Radek stammered in his native Polish.
“What now? I am fifty years Pan Rghevsky!" the boss growled.
But when he approached the last pile of boards, even he couldn’t believe what lay hidden beneath. Two male feet in worn boots and dirty trousers stuck out from under the rotting wood.
“What did you do, Radek?” The boss spoke quietly but with a threatening edge.
“I…I had nothing to do with this,” Radek pleaded.
“Don’t try to pass blame onto me,” the boss sneered. “We’ll have to call the police.”
With a blust of foul Polish language, he put his head in his hands and swayed in defeat. This was not how he had planned the job to go. Radek didn't dare to display emotions. He grabbed his phone and was diligently calling the police hotline.
Related chapters
The Secret Whisperer 7
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
Last Updated : 2024-09-18The Secret Whisperer 8
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
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 : 2024-09-18The 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 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 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 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 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 : 2024-09-21
Latest chapter
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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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
The 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’
