Charlotte Doyle Book Novels & Stories

"What? Of course not! I don't know anything about your trashy mother..." I lean forward, bracing my hands on the table. Dorathy doesn't take her eyes off me. "I don't know where your mother is, Charlotte. And frankly, I don't care. Maybe she finally realized what a disappointment you are and decided to leave on her own." I feel Rhys tense behind me. I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Every instinct I have is screaming that you people had something to do with it." "Then your instincts are wrong," Dorathy says coldly. "We don't need to kidnap anyone to win. If we wanted to hurt you, we'd do it the civilized way."

She was doing all the talk, and I couldn't even do anything about it. "I am no longer alone on this page," she continued, as she walked towards me, passing through me, "I am with Damien Yves Étienne." Charlotte opened the unlocked door by using the key that I placed on the table. All of the sudden, I found myself on my knees, on the smooth white floor. I was looking at the ground, as if I'm contemplating what I should do next. But is that… even a question? "Of course the next thing I'm going to do…" I mumbled, as I looked at the ceiling with raving eyes, "Is to completely destroy them!" Charlotte Hayes' POV

I will protect her. "Dad who is the enemy?" "I cannot disclose anything of that sort to you at all. I cannot go against nature. All I can do is to tell you that the enemy will act out soon. So hurry up and go to her, she is waiting or it will be too late." Suddenly I am drawn in the void hole as I felt so tired and fell asleep. When I woke up I felt something hit my stomach as my heart pierced as if it would pop out. I knew something is wrong. Charlotte is in trouble. I get up too eager to follow her wherever she is, surely this pain will guide me to where she is right now. Why did she deserve to be treated this way. To be born unliked by everyone. I am no victim I thought she was weak when

It was an upscale apartment complex, complete with a doorman and a polished lobby. She took a deep breath and walked inside. “Can I help you?” the doorman asked politely. “I’m here to see Charlotte Williams,” Emma said. “Do you have an appointment?” “No, but I’m sure she’ll want to see me,” Emma replied. The doorman hesitated but eventually allowed her to pass. Emma took the elevator to the top floor, her resolve growing with each passing second. When she reached Charlotte’s door, she knocked firmly. The door opened moments later, revealing Charlotte dressed in a sleek black robe, her expression shifting from surprise to annoyance.

I shifted my gaze to the same position everyone else's gaze was fixed and my eyes widened like I’d just seen an angel fall out of the sky. What was this beauty? It was Charlotte. She was dressed in a red dress. It was supposed to be a work dress because of its classy features but she made it sinful to be dressed in a red body hug dress. Her shape was accentuated by the dress, her waist — so slim, perfect for a mother of one. If you weren't told, you wouldn't know she has a kid. Her stiletto heels did all the talking there was and her skin worked hand in hand with the morning sun to blind our eyes unapologetically. She was radiating beauty.

She eventually did, and she only gave him a small sad smile. “I'm sorry too, for lashing out. This isn't really your fault. Its not like you asked and I said no". Charlotte replied. I restrained from rolling my eyes and mock gagging. Generally i found mushy love a little annoying, considering that my own love life was shot to hell. But they were cute. there was no denying that. I glanced back at the car following us. "i dont know about you guys, but I find this really creepy". Charlotte turned in her seat to look at the car. “Don‘t worry", She said with an unexpectedly bright grin. "Just imagine we're going to see a great Queen, and that is our escort. Provided by her, of course".

“Very…dedicated to her work.” Something in her tone made me straighten. Charlotte had always been perceptive, quick to pick up on undercurrents and unspoken dynamics. “She’s helped Annie regain mobility we thought might never return,” I continued. “Layla researched new techniques, spent countless hours—” “And you were grateful,” Charlotte said, studying the photo before placing it back on the shelf. “Of course I was grateful.” Charlotte moved to the bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of books that had remained untouched for five years. Everything in this room had stayed exactly as she’d left it, preserved like a shrine to her memory.

“I’m looking for this woman. She works here.” Christavo looked at the picture and back to Antonio. He gestured to move toward the ambulance loading someone inside. Christavo pulled back the sheets to reveal the woman in the picture, short hair this time and wide black eyes as blood pooled from the back of her head. Antonio connected the pieces seeing that she was the one who fell from the top floor window. He cursed under his breath. “What do you know about her?” Christavo asked as Antonio held his head sighing in distress. “I’m conducting my own investigation, without the police. No offense to you, Tate, but your workers aren’t as reliable as you may want them to be. Fairchild could have mo

Quickly flipping to the page number she climbed into her bed and leaned back. Charlotte skipped the title and started reading. She skimmed through most of the part but stopped when she found what she was looking for. After reading for almost ten minutes she shut the book and kept it aside with a sigh. There is nothing written in this book that suggests that if the Alpha licks the wounds, they heal and disappear. Maybe it’s a trueblood thing….. Maybe I should just ask him about this… Charlotte was so lost in her inner turmoil that she didn’t pay any attention to the ticking clock and it was soon the time for her session with Theo. When the alarm rang, she jumped in surprise.

really meant with him. My brain was fried when I finally packed my books and started heading out. The hallways were nearly empty, shadows stretching long under the flickering lights. I turned the corner and froze. Charlotte. She was leaning against the lockers, manicured nails tapping her phone. Beside her, Emilia shifted uncomfortably, eyes glued to the floor. “Well, well,” Charlotte purred, pushing off the locker. “If it isn’t Blackridge’s favorite charity case.” I clenched my jaw. “Not in the mood, Charlotte.”