Broken By Evelyn Miller Wattpad Novels & Stories

She can never hurt even a fly. Just then, Raymond entered the living room in anger. “Evelyn! Evelyn!” he called in anger. He walked up to Evelyn who was having a mental breakdown with Richard and threw a paper at her. “Can you explain this!” ...... Note: I made a mistake in chapter 69. I have edited it. my editor will approve it very soon. come back later to read it.

Crystal halted, trying to gather herself, her lips parting to say something but her voice refused to obey. “I always knew it,” Evelyn said, stepping closer with a cruel smile curling on her lips. “He tolerated you out of pity. Poor little stray girl. Now he’s tired, just like we are.” Crystal swallowed hard, trying to keep her tears at bay. “It was an accident… I didn’t mean to break it,” she mumbled. Betty laughed, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t mean to? You shouldn’t be touching anything that belongs to him. Honestly, what do you think you are to him?”

If I knew that loving him would break me like this I swear I would have never loved him. Never! At least I would not have been Broken by love. The door of the room opened with a bang and I saw Anirudh entering inside. So finally he came? But what is the purpose of his coming? I am raped once again! I am tainted once again. Aashish has used me and emptied his seeds inside me. I heard a gunshot and Aashish fell on my body. Maybe he killed him, maybe he just made him unconscious. I do not know nor do I want to know.

She turned her venomous gaze toward me, her eyes filled with the same hatred they’d had when she forced me to drink the aborticide. I didn't flinch. I just retracted my hand and gave her a thin, mocking smile. Without a word, Daphne dragged a dazed Ryan away, disappearing into the crowd of whispering socialites. My work here was done. I had just announced to all of New York that Evelyn Miller, formerly Evelyn Harrington, was back. And I was holding all the cards. As I made my way toward the exit, a swarm of reporters blocked my path. Their cameras flashed like a thunderstorm.

Millie had once felt a spark of affection for Pierce, but that small spark was on the verge of being snuffed out now. At the end of the day, all men were the same. Stefan had Wanda, and Pierce had Samantha. The moment these women shed tears or got hurt, the men would throw everything else aside and run to their rescue. From the start, she had been the only pitiable fool. Weak and starving, Millie struggled to her feet. She was so hungry that she had no choice but to drink tap water. After dragging herself to the bathroom, her vision suddenly went black, and she collapsed.

“But my father just ran off and left us when the market crashed. Your parents died together, side by side in the hospital fighting flu together. Your aunt lost her one true love to it and never sought another. You’ll fall in love, if one of us will.” As Lily tore the packet of powdered cheese open, adding it to the pan, Evelyn rose. “I need to get the rest of my laundry. Let’s eat by the radio when I get back.” Leaving her apartment, Evelyn brooded all the way into the basement. Mr. Kittrels was gone, having finished banking the furnace for the night, but he’d left his cup by the agitator, with a coal smudged ‘thank you’ written on the floor. Smiling, Evelyn scuffed the message away with her

Emily said with disbelief. Jane didn’t reply. She was too scared, too weak to defend herself anymore. “Let’s go, Evelyn,” Emily said softly, not wanting to waste another minute there. But Evelyn didn’t move. She stood frozen, her hands trembling. Now knowing that her pain came from argument between her mother and a teacher—it broke her. She knew her mother could be troublesome, and it wasn’t hard to believe that Mrs. Katherine might have provoked the teacher first. Yet, that single word—mistress—had destroyed her childhood, and her trust in her sister.

Giving up her job would mean resigning herself to a life of mediocrity with the Shows. Thus, she argued with Laura. However, the old woman was a master manipulator. Even though she had beaten Queenie severely, she played the victim in front of Francis, milking his sympathy.

She had turned a mistake into a miracle. I poured another drink, my hand steadying slightly. I couldn't use force. I couldn't use lawyers. I couldn't use money. I had to use the one thing I had never used with Evelyn. Humility. I walked to the window again, looking in the direction they had gone. They were probably in a cab now, heading back to that hotel, packing their bags to flee back to Manchester. Back to the obscurity where she felt safe. "You can't run, Evelyn," I whispered to the glass. "Not anymore."

Her throat moved beneath my hands. So small. So fragile. So infuriatingly, impossibly alive even now, even after everything, even with her blood on my orders and her body breaking beneath my will. I squeezed harder. Her eyes, those damned grey eyes that had haunted me for years began to flutter. Her lips parted, searching for air that wouldn't come. Her struggles weakened, slowed, stopped. Stop. The voice came from somewhere deep. Somewhere I had tried to kill.