Erica Hale Novels & Stories

Alex furrowed his brow, vaguely recalling the name Erica, a model. She was the granddaughter of the wealthy Wilkersons from Kelmdale. He had once done a favor for the Wilkersons and allowed her to sign with Aether Corporation. At a party, he had coincidentally encountered Erica being pressured by some executives to drink, so he stepped in and escorted her to the hotel. The video Erica posted attracted a lot of attention, but most internet users were scrutinizing it with a microscope. Soon, some spotted Candice scolding Ellis and then Hanley, finding it both amusing and entertaining.

I say softly as I lift my head up. “No, its not Serah but Elena.” The lady says.

She, apparently is the daughter of an Alpha of a pack near by. Alec starts by showing us few advanced fighting and deflecting techniques with the sword and asks us to partner up and practice. 25 being an odd number, i was left alone with out a partner. Li offered me to switch with her partner. But i declined, its not fair for her. I ended up pairing with Alec. Alec is a good and patient teacher. Despite my many mistakes he laugh along with me and shows me the right way of doing it.

“I have the power over the seasons, and the weather. I can only control small areas right now, but I can practice and get better at it.” “Oh… So you are not a demon half breed…” What? What did Jamira mean? “No… I am a crossbreed of an angel, and human. My mother is Horae. She did not want me though. She said I was a mistake. Please do not tell Layla I am not a demon… Or the girls… I don’t want to be left.” “Do you know Layla is a princess who is half demon, and angel…” Jamira grabbed the pitcher, and poured Tempest a drink.

Ashanti I pace Caleb's office as I listen to the recording. With each word, I feel my heart shattering into so many pieces. How could someone be so cruel? That's not even what worse, I've already given Lucien the go-ahead to do whatever he pleases to Roman as long as he isn't dead, and now I hear there's a possibility that he might not be responsible? Fuck.

I loved you and I am sorry, Eric

He stepped directly into their path. Elara recognized him instantly. Daniel Hale. A senior researcher from MIT's pharmaceutical division. He had been seated two tables away at the Golden Gala. He had watched her get dragged out and had said absolutely nothing. "Dr. Vance," he said, stopping in front of her. Elara stopped. Alexander paused beside her, his physical presence a silent warning, but he did not intervene. "Dr. Hale." Elara kept her voice level. Daniel Hale’s expression appeared deeply complicated, a mixture of professional guilt and desperate self-preservation.

Erica offered her a warm smile, making Emma slightly surprised. In her past life, Erica was just like she was now—gentle and kind, obedient from a young age. Later, Luna Sandra arranged for her to marry Seventh Prince. But despite the high status of the mother of the Five Princes, Erica could only be a secondary wife due to her birth mother's situation. Luna had an arrogant disposition and an authoritarian nature. Erica's life did not go as she had wished. After losing two consecutive children, her mental state deteriorated, and she eventually became an abandoned member of the Seldom family. Seeing Erica's warm smile now, Emma couldn't help but feel bitter. She couldn't change the fate of ea

At the end of the stairs, I see Layla, seated and sniffing like she was crying. “Layla.” She looks at me then gets up to hug me. She whispers a thank you on my chest and I just look at her surprised. Why is she thanking me all of a sudden? “Thank you, Rein. For making Eric to stay.” She says and I opened my eyes wide in shock. She was there, she heard everything. Maybe she can tell me what really happened. “Hey mind telling me what happened.” “It's not that important. Just know that Erica is a witch and I hate her now more than I ever loved her.” She says as she looks up to me with more tears falling down her eyes.

A number I didn’t recognize. I let it ring once. Twice. Then answered. “Hello?” A pause—measured, intentional. “Elara,” a woman said. Calm. Professional. “My name is Dana Whitmore. I represent several interests connected to the Hale Foundation.” My spine straightened. “That’s vague.” “It’s meant to be reassuring,” she replied. “I’d like to meet. Today, if possible.” I didn’t ask how she got my number. That question was already obsolete.