Edgar X Colette Novels & Stories

But her father-in-law’s gentle hand on her shoulder stops her, his eyes filled with understanding as he offers to go to Reed in her stead. Colette spins in the center of the room, her hands clutching her stomach.LJ approaches and Colette collapses into his arms, her sobs mingling with his own. “He’s right,” she whispers brokenly, her words barely audible. “It’s my fault. All of it.” * *

Inside the ward, Colette looked at the unconscious Ginny lying on the bed. It was as if Colette could see the five-percent share of Harper Corporation and all that belonged to the Warde family reflected in Ginny's silhouette. If all those things became Colette's, would she still have to submit to Yvette and Nicole? She wouldn't marry Zachary even if he begged her. A wicked smile appeared on Colette's face as she thought of Yvette. She called Yvette.

“You don’t have to trust me completely. You don’t have to work alongside us openly. Just tell us what you know. Give us something that helps.” Colette considered this for a long moment. “What I know isn’t much,” she admitted. “He taught me to disappear, but he never fully explained his own methods. I don’t know where he lives now, what name he currently uses, how he’s tracking any of us.” She paused. “But I know one thing that might matter. He has a pattern, when he decides to finally reveal himself directly instead of simply watching from a distance.”

How had I lived for 7 years without this? He jumped in the shower while I picked at the breakfast offerings, my friend Colette who worked in PR for my publisher called. Colette had settled in Sandy Ridge with her first husband but was from Brooklyn and worked remotely for the company who were based in NYC. She got me the contacts for the publishing deal and had been managing my tour. “Hey just making sure you’re up and ready to go for the train.” she chirped, she was always bouncy and positive and worked hard keeping me on track.

I studied her face, her posture—nothing about her was familiar. “Yes?” I asked carefully. “And you are?” Her face lit up instantly, relief flooding her expression. She sat down beside me, trying to steady her excitement. “I’m sorry—I get like this when I’m nervous,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I’m just… really happy to see you here, Mr. Whitmore. I’m Colette.” She extended a hand toward me. Though confused, I accepted it. “Colette? Do we know each other?” She nodded eagerly. “Yes. I used to work for Ms. Everheart—your wife.”

"I don't think I need it to be. I think I just needed to see it start to exist." Colette climbed down from the scaffolding slowly, wiping her hands on a paint stained rag, and settled onto the edge of the stage beside me without asking permission, the kind of quiet, unassuming kindness I had come to appreciate more than grand gestures over the past few exhausting weeks. "Your mother's sketches are extraordinary," she said. "Whoever she was, she understood exactly what she wanted to say. Most people who bring me half finished visions don't know that much about their own hearts."

I follow in suit. "Yeah it's gonna be so much fun Colette! We were just about to go to my room." She hesitantly nods her head and we all head upstairs. ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ About an hour has passed since we all went up to my room. We found out a good bit about Colette. She goes to Windsor High School the last of the three high schools were allowed to go to. It's the closet to Sidney Rose. Her mom is the principal at Sidney Rose and that is why she was there the day I met her. She only has two friends named Valentine and Nick. Not one of her friends are 17 yet because they are Sophomores. But her birthday is in a month. She was held back in third grade. She has one older brother named Oliver and one litt

He leaned forward, picking up a folder and holding it out for her. "Perhaps these might jog your memory. Eugene is a hell of a brute. He worked for a man named Ivan Killian. A real piece of work, that one." Colette opened the folder pulling out a photo. Her body went stiff, and her hand began to tremble as she moved from one photo to the next. Colette shook her head, looking up at Balor. Her eyes were lined with tears. I looked between them both, not fully grasping what the hell was going on.

And the car fell silent with each of us lost in our own worlds until we reached the apartment. When I reached the apartment, I was surprised to see a faint light in Colette’s room. It seems like she’s burning the midnight oil for her assignment. The demolition must have really made an impact on her. I gently knocked on the door and slowly entered the room expecting to see Colette typing on her laptop. To my surprise, she’s fallen asleep on her desk with her laptop still buzzing with messages. I was about to close the laptop when I saw her draft reply to someone named ‘ACE’. What caught my attention was the email subject ‘The Negotiator’.

“That would be you then.” We were knee-deep in the last batch of pieces for the Contrast Collection—reversible jackets, functional skirts, utility bags. Colette’s café was already promoting the upcoming showcase. Everything was finally moving forward, and for once, the weight on my chest felt lighter. My phone buzzed against the table. Margaux didn’t even look up. “If that’s Colette asking for another teaser photo, tell her she’s getting nothing until I finish this damn seam.” “It’s not her,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron before checking the screen.