Beatrice Laus Novels & Stories

POV: Ryuu My eyes stayed locked on Beatrice as she moved through the room, her presence commanding attention in a way that felt almost defiant. She carried herself with a confidence that was equal parts captivating and infuriating, her chin held high, her gaze steady, and her lips curved into a smile that hinted at secrets only she knew. Watching her maneuver through a room full of Morunagas—each more venomous than the last—was like watching someone walk a tightrope over a pit of snakes. And she made it look effortless.

Lia asked. "Didn't you get my message?" Beatrice asked. "Of course I did that exactly the reason I am dressed this fancily," Lia answered, and Beatrice chuckled. "Sweetheart, all my hard work is going to pay off today, and don't worry, you'll have Caden all to yourself soon." Beatrice smiled, and Lia blinked. "Not until you get rid of that wife of his first," she scoffed. "Already done," Beatrice replied. "Now let's go to take over the Kingston enterprises," Beatrice smirked.

It was like she had become another woman. Men really were sentimental creatures who think with the lower part of their bodies. “Beatrice, you should pay more attention to your studies. In the first midyear exams, you had one test with just 90 points. Don’t play too much. Your pocket money this semester will be halved.” Beatrice shrugged, not paying attention to her sister. As she was now a first-level agent of Lush Cosmetics, she had recruited a large group of lower-level agents in school and had made a lot of money. She had developed into a sort of big shot business mistress at school.

I commented with a dry laugh. Beatrice hit me lightly on the head with the dishcloth she had on her shoulder. That night she was wearing the usual flashy makeup, with golden and red shadow above a thick eyeliner, whose extremely long false eyelashes almost fully covered her efforts to make the shadow stand out. The outfit was a bright and very thin-looking dress of red color, whose neckline fell into a deep slit, giving prominence to her small breasts. The high heels echoed against the wooden floor, as she beat them back and forth in order to finish the preparations for our supper.

It was not a question. Lillian nodded. Beatrice poured, then left her cup untouched. She watched Lillian instead. Not closely. Thoroughly. As one might watch weather gather. “These foundations were built to preserve Aurelia’s memory,” Beatrice said. “Not the public one. The private one. The things that never make the society pages.” She reached for a leather-bound album and placed it on the table between them. Lillian hesitated before touching the cover. “Is this allowed.” “It is mine,” Beatrice said. “I decide what is allowed.”

Beatrice was saying and paused when the majority chanted praise at her last statement. "There are many more, and it would take half an hour to finish. I hope you understand us" Beatrice said, a hateful sentiment behind those smiles she honed at Raina. Raina's body cracked with shame as she struggled to speak. She was a graduate with no experience in her course of study, and she couldn't bring herself to brag with her fake husband who had based his business in Lebanon and is now in a coma from a fatal accident. She felt extremely disgruntled, but she swallowed her embarrassment again.

she said, leaning in for a cheek-to-cheek greeting. “And you as well, Tita Rita.” Beatrice removed her oversized Gucci glasses, slipping them into her clutch. “Forgive me for being late,” she added smoothly. “I had to take care of a ruckus in Dad’s casino.” Rita waved a dismissive hand, her rings catching the light. “It’s all right, dear. Now that you’re here, I want you to look at this album.”

Listening to another girl say something about Precious was something I couldn't handle, I knew where this conversation would lead to if I let it happen. She smiled and nodded, "Sorry if you took offense handsome, I am Beatrice, the daughter of Bob O'Reilly, the CEO of O'Reilly Enterprise. I am a girl as you can well see, " she paused, looking down on her laps before she picked up again, "I had always wanted to be a fashion designer, own my brand, and even own a conglomerate that had shoe and bag brands but instead I studied Business just so I could take over from my father. To cut the long story short, during my mother's funeral after she died, a woman and her three children attended the fun

​Beatrice Vane did not arrive with the roar of engines or the flash of tactical gear. She arrived like a shadow, slipping into the private terminal of Lagos under a diplomatic passport that hadn't been flagged in a decade. She was dressed in charcoal silk, her eyes—a colder, more brittle silver than Julian’s—scanning the humid horizon with utter disdain. ​"The humidity is offensive," Beatrice remarked, stepping into a waiting black SUV. "Silas always had a penchant for the dramatic. Building a fortress in a swamp was his final vanity."

“Lyra.” Beatrice approached with slow, deliberate steps. The furious and defeated expression from earlier had completely vanished, replaced instantly by that familiar, polished, gentle demeanor, the perfect mask of a caring, concerned stepmother. She wore a soft, worried smile as she came closer, her voice raised just enough to carry clearly across the room, ensuring every guest still lingering nearby could hear every word. “Lyra, my dear… how could you? Why did you let your mother’s ring go to a stranger? That was Laurin’s engagement ring, her most precious possession, the symbol of everything she stood for. How could you just stand there and let it be sold away like that?”