Beatrice Tris Prior Novels & Stories

Wendy's sarcastic cross-armed. "Ynaria, Wendy. Can you stop this?" Trist's disobedience causes both Ynaria and Wendy to be stopped-and it gets everyone's attention back. "Trist," Clement said, but Trist ignored it instead continuing to speak. "If I only knew this was going to happen. I hope I didn't agree," Trist said disappointed and shook slightly. "I'll admit, we've all been drinking, but don't get mad. I understand what you're going through in life and whatever we've experienced at the resort. Please, let's just forget the past, shall we?" Its suggestion. "This conversion is over, go home!" Trist's last word before he left the VIP room.

Other than this Beatrice was a happy and well-adjusted young girl who just happened to have a penchant for attracting trouble. She had moved to Dorsal Finn three years ago, after her father was made redundant. It had been a turbulent time. George Beecham was a proud man and struggled to accept the loss of his job at Parkinson Paintbrush Incorporated. He had worked there for over twenty years before he was replaced by a piece of software. For over three months he tried to find another job only to realise that every other potential employer had bought the same piece of software.

Beatrice’s POV Frowning, I stare at the text for a few minutes. They’re calling me to headquarters for a meeting. While it would be nice to see James, the timing isn’t great. I need to speak to Dai Qing before I leave for the airport. I dial Sierra’s number and hold the phone to my ear. She answers on the first ring. “Oh, God, Tris. Is he still alive?” “What?” “Flint. He called me early this morning or late last night. I was in a meeting, and so my phone was off. But he left this rambling message on my phone because he was dying.” Her voice catches on a sob.

Beatrice replied and stood up. "I won't," Emily said, her eyes pooling with tears. "I can't." Beatrice sucked in a sharp breath as if impatient. "You have too, I won't let you ruin my son's life for your selfish desires," Beatrice snapped. "I don't want to," Emily sobbed, the tears she was trying too hard to hold fell freely. "The election is in three days, I expect you to have divorced Caden before then, tonight even," Beatrice said. "Show yourself out," Beatrice added and walked away.

Beatrice asked. "Sure Tris, See you at parking?" "Okay okay!" Beatrice said before she ended the call. Before she went to the elevator, she messaged her parents first and told them she will be late for home. When she rode the elevator, her team manager happened to be in it too. Confused, the woman asked her. "Oh Bea? Why are you headed to the parking? did you already get a car?" The woman asked excitedly, she was naturally cheerful towards her team, knowing that Bea wanted to buy her dream car, she's very proud.

Elara admitted, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touching her lips. "I don't know why I'm like this. I'm not supposed to be like this. Not after what happened to me for the past twelve years... I shouldn't start giving myself away to this fickle feeling that always seems to trick me. But if it's with you, Silas..." He leaned down and kissed the words right off her lips. Outside, Beatrice was taken aback, her breath catching in her throat as she witnessed the entire scene through the keyhole. She had returned to the wing early this morning after seeing Dre leaving the White House premises.

She wanted her face back—perfect, untouchable. A soft creak of the door pulled her from her thoughts. Edmund stepped inside, his tall frame shadowing the doorway. Beatrice’s demeanor shifted instantly; the sharpness in her eyes softened into syrupy sweetness. “Edmund,” she purred, looping her arm through his, “can you lend me some people? I want to deal with Marilyn next.” She’d been grounded at home lately, but that hadn’t stopped her from digging. Quietly, she’d been collecting scraps of dirt on Serena’s circle. If she couldn’t strike Serena directly, she would chip away at the edges—her friends, her allies—until Serena was left isolated.

All of Sam's subordinates were there, witnessing their happiness, and busily preparing every detail of their wedding, as well as the remaining Quassano family. According to Beatrice, most of them looked at her in disbelief. They also seemed subservient but had their own motives. Beatrice was sure of that. That's why she didn't want to be close to anyone except those who had been given special trust by her grandfather. The cold and unapproachable impression suddenly stuck to her since she was introduced as the successor of Quassano. But Beatrice didn't care. Her true self was only shown to those she knew well. And that was strongly approved by Sam and her grandfather.

He had my name, my fortune, and my legacy ahead of him. The intercom buzzed, breaking the silence. "Mr. Thorne, I'm so sorry, but your sister-in-law is here. She... she didn't have an appointment, but she's already past the desk." Before I could answer, the heavy oak doors swung open. Beatrice walked in, looking like a high-end assassin in a dress that was little more than a whisper of crimson silk. It was cut dangerously low, her heavy tits practically spilling out with every step she took. She didn't look like a woman here for a family visit; she looked like a woman here to stake a claim.

one of them asked, looking at Franklin. “I won’t cause any more trouble. I promise,” Beatrice said quickly. “I just had a bit too much wine.” It wasn’t easy for Beatrice to swallow her pride, but she was left with no choice. Everyone was going to think she was a crazy person, lunging at Willow over an accident, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was staying at the event. She had to be there for the awards. She had to do what Giulia had asked her to do and film the awards presentations.