Courtney Blackson Novels & Stories

She wore a navy blazer and carried a leather briefcase. The second—Dr. Ingrid Halvorsen—was a forty-five-year-old woman with short-cut blonde hair and thin-framed glasses. Her expression was calm and assessing—eyes that had seen much trauma and knew how to recognize it. "Good morning," Ms. Fontaine greeted in a professional voice. "We're from the court-appointed wellness check for Mrs. Alina Blackwood. I'm Ms. Claire Fontaine, and this is Dr. Ingrid Halvorsen."

No matter what happens, she will reap out whoever is behind this. She picked up her oversized black coat and hung it over her shoulders. “I would like to have a talk with this older sister.” *** Alexandra pressed her slender finger on the doorbell of the shabby apartment. Someone heard the doorbell from inside. Heavy footsteps closed in and the door opened with a click, revealing a bald, fat man with a round nose. “What brings you here, Miss?” He asked, shocked to see a well-dressed majestic woman before his doorstep. She smiled convincingly at him, her amber eyes hiding a sly intent. “Alexandra Winchester. This is my personal assistant, Neil Johnson. We are here to inquire about Kathy Black

responded the billionaire, “as I have dinner reservations at nine thirty.” Leo was soon by her side and both of them made the trek to the den. It took a lot to surprise or catch Amberleigh Dubois off guard. She had been born to a drug addicted mother in a slum and worked in a sex club after all, so she’d seen and experienced a lot of shit in her twenty-two years. But still walking into the den and seeing Courtney Van Tessin sitting next to Grayson with her hand draped on his knee wasn’t something she was prepared to see. Or that ginormous rock encircling the heiress’ left ring finger.

Alister Blackstone entered. He looked like a predator entering its domain. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal grey suit, his silver hair gleaming under the courtroom lights, he projected an aura of cold, controlled confidence. His lawyer, a sleek shark in pinstripes, followed a step behind. Alister’s gaze swept the room, lingering for a fraction of a second too long on Damien, radiating contempt, then sliding dismissively over me before fixing, with unnerving intensity, on Lila.

“And I think you've punished me, us enough.” “Knox, I'm busy.” I hiss. “Just go,” I say, avoiding his eyes, scared I'd melt if I hold his gaze a little longer. “I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me,” And that's when a voice echoes behind us. We both turn. Bianca Blackwood. She's in a red dress. And glasses that screams money. Polished. Elegant as always. “Okay, now this is a pleasant surprise,” she says, removing her glasses. “My ever busy son and his girlfriend.”

Like a version of me that belonged in a completely different world. I jerked back slightly, my heart racing, as if I’d been stung by the picture. Julian watched me closely, his eyes following every expression that crossed my face. “What is this?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Who is she?” “That,” Julian said calmly, folding his arms casually over his chest, “is Kimberly Hayes. She’s my cousin’s fiancée. Nathan Blackwood—CEO of Blackwood Industries.” He reached over, swiping his finger across the screen until another picture appeared. “That’s him.”

This was the first time Luna saw such a huge ensemble. She turned back and looked at Joshua in a daze. “This is how we welcome important guests to the group,” said Joshua calmly in a low voice. “You’re the first woman of mine to enjoy this.” Luna was speechless. It did not need to be that formal, did it? At that moment, someone knocked on the car door. Courtney stood outside with a smile. She was in a pink long dress, her long hair freshly curled with a crystal hairpin to top it off. She looked as exquisite as a fairy tale princess.

“But are you sure they have something *worthy enough* for me?” Austin chuckled low, sliding a hand to the small of her back. “Trust me, baby, whatever you wear here… you’ll make the dresses jealous.” The attendant, a tall woman in a sleek black dress, approached with a smile that flickered when she noticed Austin. Clearly, she recognized him. “Mr. Blackwood,” she purred. “Always a pleasure. What can we do for you today?” Austin didn’t hesitate. “She needs a gown for Friday. Something unforgettable.”

I wonder where she is. A lady dressed black from head to toe with black boot sand cap, top and short. ‘All right contestant, you know the rule” staring at us, we nodded “Let the battle begin, I will call on the first contestants Clara Johnson” she said Clara Johnson came out, she as an athlete figure and she pale in color, “ and Margret black” she also came out, she brown in color and she also have the same body shape like Clara Johnson but Clara Johnson is a little bit slimmer than her.

The women paired theirs with ridiculously short, tight skirts that seemed far from professional. Mr. Ross looked expectant. On edge. His eyes scanned the room for someone more competent, more experienced, more professional. Not me. And then our eyes met, and realization settled over his face. I smoothed my expression into something resembling composure and crossed the room to meet him, my hand already extended before I’d fully arrived. “Mr. Ross. Aurélie Blackwood, from Reynor Corporations. Thank you for making the time.” He stood and shook my hand. Firm. Measured. Still sizing me up. “Ms. Blackwood.”