Evelyn Todd Novels & Stories

Bella replied. The front doors swung open. Evelyn Blackwood didn't enter so much as she occupied the space. Even at seventy, she carried an aura of absolute, unshakeable authority. She was dressed in a navy suit that cost more than most people’s annual salaries, her white hair swept back in a style that hadn't changed in thirty years. Behind her, two assistants carried several pieces of luggage. "Dante," Evelyn said, her voice like velvet-covered steel. She offered her cheek for a dry, perfunctory kiss. "You look tired. Leadership doesn't seem to be agreeing with your health."

And so, early in the morning, the Hudson women made their way to Pure Essence Spa. Lovett took a well-deserved day off work, just like the others. There was First Madam, Evelyn Hudson—Old Madam’s youngest child and only daughter. Second Madam, Odessa Hudson, wife to Evan Hudson, her first son. And Third Madam, Margaret Hudson, wife to her second son, Julian Hudson. Evan and Odessa had two daughters, but both were already married and now part of their husbands’ families, so they didn’t attend the spa day.

Larissa's POV The women Tiffany introduced me to were all variations of well-dressed and well-off. Shauna, who did something with nutrition and also held the title of vice president at the country club where all the women frequented. Evelyn, who used to be a runway model and was now the owner of a luxury makeup and skincare line that sold exclusively in high-end boutiques. Claudine, whose family owned the champagne we would be drinking this afternoon: apparently this batch was infused with gold flakes.

he said quietly. She obeyed. Lady Evelyn Blackwood, 1823 to 1846. The letters had been cut with a careful hand. She moved to the next. Isabelle Blackwood, 1865 to 1887. Then Margaret Ainsley Blackwood, 1890 to 1912. The rhythm of the dates chilled her. Each life had ended early, as if an unseen hand had closed a book that still held blank pages.

“Hmmm.” “Miss,” Moreau’s assistant, Alice, addressed Evelyn softly, “I’ll take your jacket, your hat and your purse to the dressing room. If you’ll remove your shoes, Madame will need you on the hemming platform to get your measurements, please.” Reluctantly, Evelyn relinquished her hat and purse, handing them over to the awaiting Alice, then unbuttoned her jacket and removing it, bent to remove her shoes. Beyond her assistant, Madame Moreau paced back and forth, never taking her eyes off Evelyn, and quietly tsk-tsking to herself or heaving dramatic impatient sighs.

That is a horrible thing she would never want to happen. After getting dressed she grabs her handbag from the bed, and storms out of her room not after picking up her car keys from the bed. Her name is Evelyn Jones, twenty-three years old young lady living off her family's wealth, and catering for herself, regardless of her parent's wealth. For someone who doesn't look like she's existing to her parents who reside in Paris and care only about their business, Evelyn has learned to live by herself even at this very young age. She grew up with her nanny instead, since she has been the one taking care of her all these years.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I was here before you.” “You think you can buy that expensive necklace and watch, even if you can’t buy branded clothes?” “Excuse me, ma’am, even though I look like this, I still have money. I just don’t show it because I’m low key.” “Haha! Low key? You know something like that. Well, you don’t know me. I’m the only wife who owns the Taylors’ company.” Evelyn told me proudly. “Haha! No need to explain. I know you. Maybe you don’t remember me.”

It was sleek and sophisticated, yet still carried a hint of wildness to it. Evelyn boredly brought out her own chosen outfit—just a pair of shorts and a turtleneck. The last thing she wanted was to wear something that might draw attention to her. Even though Maddy assured her they wouldn’t run into anyone familiar at the party, she still couldn’t take the risk.

Also accompanied by the fact that Evelyn Monroe was the Founder and CEO of Monroe Interiors, a rising enterprise in interior and furniture for white-collar workers, business families and aristocrats, made it hard to raise questions on her credibility. “President, Miss. Stark is here.”

"That's great. However, Ms. Lewis, I must remind you. Your former mother-in-law is no pushover. Be careful. She might set traps for you." Pointing toward Susan, who wasn't standing far away, Evelyn shook her head. "She's jealous of you." Grace's expression didn't show much change when she heard that. She seamlessly changed the topic. "Mrs. Wright, your dress today is beautiful. Is it a recent custom order?" At the mention of her dress, Evelyn instinctively puffed up her chest and tucked the loose strands of hair near her ears. "This couture dress is from a well-known foreign brand. I had it shipped by air this afternoon. How is it? Not bad, right?"