The Pornographer

Saints and Sinners Based on True Events A Crime Thriller By [Mike Colonna Larry Py] © 2025

CHAPTER ONE: Skin Deep Barry Miller had built an empire from bodies. The legendary publisher of XXXposure Magazine, Barry was a household name in the underworld of glossy vice — a billionaire in silk pajamas and Italian loafers. But as the lights dimmed on his 70th birthday gala, so did his vision. He collapsed mid-toast with a champagne flute trembling in hand, and as the crowd gasped, only one person remained calm: his wife, Delilah. Delilah Brody — stunning, calculated, half his age — cradled him with the grace of a grieving actress. But Barry wasn’t buying the act anymore. That night, between dizziness and disorientation, he whispered to his personal bodyguard and longtime friend, Larry Ambrose: “She’s killing me, Larry. Slow and sweet. Like a bedtime story.”

CHAPTER TWO: Regrets Larry Ambrose had seen it all. A former LAPD detective with a badge full of ghosts and a pistol full of regrets, he took the job guarding Barry Miller not for money, but for a chance to keep the darkness at bay. But when Barry Miller suspected his wife was drugging him to seize control of his empire, Ambrose turned his badge inward again. Surveillance revealed Delilah meeting with a man named Tico — a known cartel figure, charming in a reptilian way. Ambrose trailed her to a luxury loft downtown. Inside, she and Tico laughed over estate documents and digital accounts, plotting out Barry’s billion-dollar demise. Ambrose realized this wasn’t just an affair — it was a merger. And Barry Miller’s life was the startup capital.

CHAPTER THREE: Body Double Delilah's web went far deeper than Ambrose imagined. Jasmine, a rising centerfold, had vanished. Replaced, suddenly, by a near-identical model with the same tattoos, the same measurements, but a different name. Ambrose traced Jasmine’s last known movements to a warehouse shoot — then to a morgue. The Jane Doe had no ID, just bruises and secrets. And the woman now using her name? An actress in a body double scam, orchestrated by Delilah to smuggle girls, erase identities, and build a trafficking empire hidden under Barry’s brand. The magazine was no longer about photography. It had become a front for rebranding humans.

CHAPTER FOUR: D.O.A.The bodies began piling up. Dr. Corwin — Barry’s physician — was found floating in his pool, ruled a suicide. But the bruises on his throat told a different story. A whistleblower pharmacist was stabbed. Jasmine’s death was ruled an overdose, despite Ambrose’s evidence to the contrary. Meanwhile, Barry stopped taking Delilah’s pills. His clarity returned. So did his rage. He called his lawyer, reversing Delilah’s trust claim. She smiled when she found out. “That’s fine,” she said softly, “I’ve never been good at waiting anyway.”

CHAPTER FIVE: Porno & Powder The truth lay buried in Barry’s vault — literal vaults filled with tapes from decades past. Vargo and a young DEA agent named Rosa Melendez reviewed hundreds of recordings: models drugged, bribed, coerced. One tape featured a missing girl from the 1990s — enough to trigger a federal investigation. Delilah wasn’t just killing Barry. She was killing the past, one identity at a time. As plans formed for a 50th anniversary party for XXXposure, Ambrose and DEA Agent Melendez plotted a raid. She warned Ambrose: “She’ll be ready for anything.” Ambrose replied, “So will I.”

CHAPTER SIX: The Set-Up Before the raid could begin, Delilah struck. She had Ambrose arrested for assault — a setup using one of the body-double girls. With Barry still legally her husband and Tico funding her lawyers, Delilah prepared her final move: take the stage at the gala, have Barry sign over the empire under sedation, then disappear. But Sabine, the girl who replaced Jasmine, flipped. She brought hard drives, photos, and offshore accounts. Everything. The empire had its cracks — and Ambrose had his crowbar.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Exposure The gala began under chandeliers and champagne. Models glittered in latex and gold. Barry, seated like a faded king, watched as Delilah took the mic. “To the man who gave me everything,” she began. “And who tonight, passes the legacy to me…” Then Ambrose appeared. With Rosa. With the DEA. With a mic of his own. “I have a new centerfold,” he said. “It’s called the truth.” Gunfire erupted as Tico tried to flee. In a rooftop struggle, he fell — five stories into the legacy he helped build. Delilah was dragged off in handcuffs, cursing the cameras she once courted.

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Final Spread In the days that followed, Barry shut the doors to XXXposure for good. He donated every cent to a new foundation for exploited women. Delilah stood trial for murder, conspiracy, trafficking, and fraud. Tico’s body was never claimed. The models who survived, like Sabine and Luna, began telling their stories. Sabine started a nonprofit. Luna spoke at schools. Larry Ambrose declined the spotlight. He cleaned out his office, handed Rosa his badge, and disappeared into the city he never quite forgave. One night, Barry and Ambrose met on the empty lawn of the Miller estate. “She wanted everything,” Barry said. “And she got exposed,” Ambrose replied. They toasted under the fading California sun. THE END