Author Margaret Way Novels & Stories

“Hehe - this is for finally stepping up. I’m proud of you, Ryan.” “I don’t think it’s something to be proud of. She’s visibly torn by it.” “And yet she could not resist.” Margret chose to look at the bright side. “What - did you not enjoy it? I must say your dic* certainly knows what it wants, suddenly coming back to life when she came into the picture.” “Don’t be crude. I’m not just seeking the pleasures of the flesh.”

She opened the door quietly and the cold wind from outside hit her. She looked left and right, but it was all dark and she couldn't really see anything. Out of fear, she wanted to close the door back but she did not. She stood on the pavement and was just looking around, her eyes were fixed when she saw a figure in the dark, trying to get up. Matilda held the broom in her hands so tight, she stood there watching the figure get up and walk towards her door. She was retreating backwards as the figure kept coming closer, deep down she knew she was gonna get hurt.

Margaret and Anton followed us out of the building, trailing behind like a soft echo of everything that had just happened. Margaret’s eyes were still glistening, her lips parted in the kind of stunned smile someone wears when they’ve just witnessed something sacred. She didn’t speak right away, and neither did Anton. “You two,” Margaret finally said, her voice wobbling with a mixture of pride and disbelief, “you really went and did it. And with no fuss. No big dress. No aisle. Just… love.” I turned to her and smiled, the weight of her words sinking into my bones. “That’s all we needed.”

“Why are you doing this?” Margaret smirked, her elegant figure clad in an expensive coat. “Why? Because you’re a threat, Grace. You’ve turned Adrian into someone who thinks he can challenge my family. Benson may have failed, but I won’t. I’ll make sure Adrian remembers where his loyalties lie.” Grace’s eyes burned with fury. “You’re insane! Adrian loves me. He’ll find me and expose you for the monster you are.” Margaret chuckled coldly. “Oh, my dear, you underestimate me. Adrian might love you, but he’s weak. He’ll do whatever I say once he knows what’s at stake.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Margaret’s smirk deepened as she pulled out her phone, holding up the now-infamous photo for all to see. “This, darling. A picture worth a thousand words, isn’t it?” She turned to the room, addressing the employees like an audience in a theater. “I’m sure we’re all curious about the nature of this rather glamorous transportation, don’t you think?”

She heaved a deep sigh as she put the documents down on the table. Morrigan's cold gaze darts towards the Prince Regent who is now crawling out of bed. But like Mathias, he could barely lift himself with how potent the drug Morrigan created just for the two of them. She leaned on the frame of a chair as she watches the Prince Regent crawling towards the door for his dear life. "Why struggle when everything will come to an end now." Morrigan wiped the dagger on her dress and held its hilt tightly as she lifts herself to stand upright. Looking below her, watching the Prince Regent mopping the floor as he helplessly crawls the cold floor. Watching him with bored eyes she stepped on the back of

Margaret said as she kept her gaze on Lucian. “Yes, you are right. He is a righteous king,” Violet said. Now she knows the reason why his people like him so much. Margaret immediately turned to Violet. She just realized that she hadn't introduced herself to her. “I'm so sorry. I'm Margaret. Nice to meet you,” she said and held out her hand. Violet lowered the cloak from her head and shook her hand. “I'm Violet. Nice to meet you too.” “Oh, my! You are so beautiful like a princess,” Margaret paused thoughtfully, “Are you a princess?”

She thought of apologizing for her earlier behavior, or was thanking Lucianne for taking care of Stella a better way forward first, or maybe she should convey her gratitude for giving her and her people a chance? “YOU?!” Greg’s exclamation drew everyone’s attention to him as his look of disbelief fixed on Margaret. Even Reida was looking at Margaret with large, clueless orbs. Margaret went from being vulnerably speechless to frustratingly shocked. Her eyes turned wide and fierce when she spoke to Tate, “You said we were working with rogues!” Tate glanced at Greg before assuring Margaret, “Those are rogues, Mar.” The affectionate way he called her had some effect on calming Margaret down but

“I am not angry, Olivia. I am almost impressed. You are finding small ways to feel like a person again. That is natural. Dangerous, but natural.” The name landed like a hand. Olivia. Not daughter. Not bride. Not even a disguise. A role. A costume Margaret expected to remain buttoned. “I did what you asked,” Leah said. “No.” Margaret leaned back, studying her. “You did what you could make look like obedience. There is a difference.” Leah’s pulse moved hard once. Margaret noticed. Of course she did. “I came because I dislike repeating myself through letters,” Margaret said. “Paper is useful, but not always personal enough.”

She knew better than to offend her. “Ye...” Before she could finish her statement, she was cut off. “Whose wife?” Margaret’s voice rang out, filled with anger. Her eyes burned with hate as they roamed over Anita’s body. She wasn’t impressed. She had imagined Charles’ wife would be someone extraordinary and beautiful. The image she had created shattered as she moved closer. “Whose wife?” Margaret repeated. “Tell me.” “Young lady, you don’t have to be rude,” Anna interjected, fully aware of why Margaret was behaving this way. She was the same woman she had seen with Charles the other day, but she didn’t know they worked in the same place.