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2024-09-18 18:43:48
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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
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 : 2024-09-21The 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 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 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 : 2024-11-28
Latest chapter
The Secret Whisperer 23
Leila pulled up to Christina’s hideaway, the car’s headlights slicing through the frostbitten gloom. The house sat hunched against the snow, a dark silhouette of pine and cold secrets. She’d driven fast—too fast for the icy roads—but when your aunt called with that tone, you didn’t stop to admire the scenery.Inside, the room was a furnace. The black iron stove glowed like it was working overtime, and the wood stacked high in the corner promised it wasn’t getting a break anytime soon. Christina was in her usual spot, a blanket over her knees, looking like the queen of a tiny, crumbling empire. Her eyes, though, were sharp and on point, pinning Leila like a hawk spotting prey.“Lock the door,” Christina said. No hello, no pleasantries.Leila did as she was told, the click of the deadbolt echoing louder than it should. “What’s going on?” she asked, pulling off her gloves. She kept her tone light, but her gut was doing flips.Christina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled a smal
The Secret Whisperer 21
But Leila was waiting for him in wane, as Tom was immediately got distracted. His boss decided to pay an unexpected visit. The winter sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the tinted windows of Tom’s high-tech office when Mikhail Grossman decided to darken the door. The man loomed like a storm cloud in an Armani suit, his scowl deep enough to hide a weapon.“Evening, Mikhail,” Tom said with the ease of a man greeting an old friend rather than a mafia boss who snaps necks like breadsticks. He wondered whether Mikhail Grossman heard the news about Vlad. Tom leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”“Cut the pleasantries, Tomas,” Grossman growled. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that preceded an earthquake. “You know why I’m here. The Green Dragon virus—you’re going to hand it over. Now.”Tom chuckled and tapped his fingers on the scratched surface of his desk, where beneath lay layers of encrypted firewalls
The Secret Whisperer 21
A tiny, no larger than a pack of cigarettes, combat drone silently fell off the roof two floors above the office where Vlad Voronin was glued to the computer screen. It smoothly descended to his window, peeked out stealthily from behind the wall and froze in the upper left corner. The cameras adjusted the focus to Vlad’s stand-alone laptop. The camera was filming the program commands running in a fast line on a black background.The owner of the computer had no idea about all that. He was busy with the guest. Smiling snottily, Voronin pulled the flash drive out of the laptop and put it inside a small brown envelope.‘That’s perfect,’ he patted his guest on the shoulder.‘I have to return it,’ the guest muttered nervously stretching out his hand. ‘My share, as agreed?’‘Don’t worry,’ Voronin frowned. ‘Assume that you don’t owe us anything anymore. '‘Fine. You have to give me a receipt. For the records.’‘OK,OK. You’ve become too suspicious, Ash,’ Vlad pulled out a four-fold piece of p
The Secret Whisperer 20
Leila slipped into Tom’s car, slamming the door a little harder than she intended. The cold outside had followed her in, clinging to her like a bad mood. Tom turned to Leila, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the heater dial. His sharp suit looked a little rumpled, which for him was akin to disheveled.“You didn’t freeze to death out there, did you?” he asked, his voice light, but his eyes checking up her face like he was scanning for damage.“Nope, still alive,” Leila said, tugging off her gloves. “But I’m starting to think that Christina’s place is more of a treasure chest than a house.”Tom raised an eyebrow. “Treasure chest? You planning to dig up the back garden next?”Leila leaned back, the seat warmer kicking in. “Something like that. You wouldn’t believe half of it if I told you.”“Try me,” Tom said, pulling onto the snowy road. His car was too clean, too new, a spaceship gliding over a frozen landscape. “I left work to be here, so you owe me something good.”Leil
The Secret Whisperer 19
The Gatekeeper was as calm and unbothered as a man ordering a drink at a bar. “There’s another spy among us,” he said.The room reaction was not unlike a shot of cheap tequila—sharp, immediate, and nauseating. Twelve masked faces froze. No one moved, no one breathed. If paranoia had a sound, it would have been the faint rustle of fine fabric. You could feel the change in the air - suddenly heavy, toxic, like everyone had realized they were holding a hand grenade with no pin.Thronebearer was the first to speak. He always was. “Another spy,” he repeated, rolling the words around like a bad aftertaste. “How… disappointing.”His iron crown caught the light, casting jagged shadows across the scratched oak table. He tilted his head toward the Gatekeeper, his tone clipped. “Who?”The Gatekeeper didn’t answer right away. He liked his drama slow-cooked. Instead, he walked over to a side table, his every step measured. Beneath a red velvet cloth lay something nobody wanted to think about—a but
The Secret Whisperer 18
Linda Stern arrived at the library just after seven, dressed for the lead role in The Clichéd Spy. She wore tight black jeans, a shapeless hooded jacket that might’ve been trendy in 1997, a black acrylic scarf was wrapped around her blonde head like she was about to rob a petrol station. The sunglasses would be a nice touch, but Linda reckoned that would be too Men in Black.The library door had a handwritten sign taped to it: “Closed for Technical Reasons.” That might as well have said, “Suspicious activity happening here—please sniff around with care.”Linda knocked anyway, her fist pounding the heavy wood like she was trying to wake the dead. When no one answered, she leaned on the buzzer with all the subtlety of a foghorn.The door creaked open just enough to reveal a small man with a potato-shaped nose, a face so pale it could’ve doubled as a flashlight, and ginger eyebrows that looked like they were glued on. He wore a black sweater turtleneck and black synthetic trousers that ha
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
