Brittany Miller Writer Novels & Stories

Brittany. Brittany McCalister had used her family’s blood money to quietly pull the rug out from under Ava, thinking she could break her spirit and drive her out of the program for good. “You pathetic coward,” I breathed, the sheer disgust burning in my throat. “You sold out a brilliant student’s entire future for a few bricks and mortar?” “Our endowment fund was struggling!” Mr Harrison defended himself weakly, holding up a trembling hand. “I had no choice! The board demanded—”

How many days until Brittany came home to a country she hadn’t even left in this version of things. None of it lined up with what I remembered. Last time, the divorce papers came the same morning as Victoria’s call. This morning, my phone stayed silent. Last time, Brittany was already home, already at the venue, already laughing against Jeremy’s shoulder. This time, when I checked her page at four in the morning, her most recent post placed her in Milan, a photo of a rooftop bar dated two days earlier, her smile too bright for someone who was supposed to already be back in New York.

He disgusted me. “You will not touch a hair on his head. You won't. I'll protect my son and his father from you, even if it's the last thing I do…” I broke into quiet sobs. Dane kept holding me, staying by my side like he knew there was no way I was going to handle everything myself. It was all beyond me. Brittany walked towards us, and I was too busy crying to notice so of course she caught us, and she was such a mess. I understood her trauma first hand. The woman was tired and simply wanted to be free to live. This was why she didn't tell anyone her identity.

Kate replied. Brittany rolled her eyes, which looked miraculously both annoying and graceful, then she turned and stomped halfway through the crowd. “Are you guys done choosing?” she asked the woman, with a wide, fake smile on her face. The women replied. Some said they had, some said they were considering. Brittany motioned for them all to be quiet. Then she glanced at the designer. “Take all these dresses to my room. Apart from the ones these women have chosen.”

Brittany pulled her best friend’s hand and stomped her feet, saying, "Wow, you’re driving me crazy! I can differentiate between what’s real and what’s fake. Just tell me what you heard, and I won’t blame you for anything else!" Brittany was impatient and was notorious for her temper in the entertainment industry. She would have been exposed long ago if she were not popular enough and did not have a family to back her up. Even so, some haters would sometimes reveal rumors about her, but her brother, Brandon Oakley, would suppress them. Just like now, Brittany had just yelled at her assistant, who came to the dressing room to check on her because she was anxious about the news she had heard. "

t should have been comforting, but lately, the connection between us only seemed to pull me deeper into the storm. A familiar voice broke the stillness. “So this is where you hide,” Brittany said, stepping into the room as if she owned it. Her heels clicked against the floor with deliberate arrogance. “I was wondering when we’d get a moment alone.” I ignored her, focusing on the book in my hand, but she wasn’t going to let me be. “You know,” she continued, leaning casually against the nearest table, “I had the most wonderful time with Darian. He’s not bad in bed, but I imagine Lucas would be much better.”

“I could tell she wanted to say something else. She said she found his old skiing gloves and started crying. Now she wants to go on a trip with Aunt Melissa. Said I should come too.” “Aww, that’s cute. Maybe she just wants to spend some time again with her daughter.” “That’s why she called me at seven in the morning?” Brittany reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You know I’m here, right? For everything. Dreams, wolf men, weird shoulder miracles. All of it.” “I know. Thanks, Britts.” We sit in silence for a moment, the popcorn bowl between us. Then she says, “But I’m also going to need a detailed description of his outfit. For research.”

The baby will be almost a year and now. Brittany and Clayton patched things up but they didn't start dating they still taking things slow,we still live together till this day. We both work in Clayton's firm. I'm just a receptionist and Brittany his personal secretary if you what I mean. As Mr. Miller I didn't hear from him again I only see him in television and new papers. He is still the man whore he was before, changing girls like his underwear. I see Max like we arranged, he is now 3 years and looks just like his father. He is cutest, intelligent boy I have ever seen.

Brittany cried. “Now look… you left and she’s still accusing him of assault!” Lora scolded her. Brittany took to her heels without care about her disheveled state she got into a taxi and asked to be dropped off at the police station. When she got there a swarm of reporters run in her direction. “Mrs. Williams what do you have to say about your husband’s situation with his family,” one reporter asked. “Mrs. Williams would you say you were oblivious to what was happening…”

Taylor’s expression hardened, though not in defense of the maid as she approached. “Brittany,” she called out, taking a step toward her but she didn't answer. She just crossed her arms, her face contorted into a heavy, ugly pout, completely ignoring her mother. She was deeply spoiled, and she knew exactly how to use her moods to get what she wanted. Hilary sighed, walking over to placate her as she gently stroked her daughter's hair, “What is wrong, sweetheart? Tell mommy what happened?” Brittany threw herself onto the dining chair, her voice dripping with venom, “Two students joined our school today. And I hate the twin girl so much already.”