Genevieve Kelly Novels & Stories

Reading what was on the paper, Flynn raised a brow, and then he looked after Noah, walking off and calling out after him, “Black!! Wait, you are leaving?! Is that how you are going to treat your childhood friend? At least take me out for a drink or tell me why her?! Who is she?!” But the door closed behind Noah, and Flynn frowned at the paper, mumbling, “He was always a cold bastard. But why you, Genevieve Carnell... What makes you so important that he would dare swallow his pride and ask me for such a favor?” After standing there silently for a while, he rushed behind his desk, opened his laptop, clicked the search bar, and typed in it, “Who is Genevieve Darnell?” The browsers displayed her

CHAPTER SIX Her full name was Genevieve Sterling. Katelyn knew this because of Stella who wanted to know what exactly made Genevieve ‘special’. All it took was a single search on social media to find out just how special she was. She was an heiress to a multimillionaire luxury mall business, a rising actress and a businesswoman rolled up in one.

Dahlia, my mother-in-law didn't even spare me a glance as she sidestepped me and headed straight to the dining room. “Katherine,” I muttered as a form of greeting to Kyle's older sister. She was three years older than Kyle and although she was married, she had happily declared that neither her nor her husband wanted children. “Genevieve,” she sneered back in return before she brushed past me and went to have her seat.

Elara watched her closely, trying to make sense of the woman who had been the center of Kaelan’s grief for years. “Kaelan,” Elara said quietly. “We need to talk.” “Not now,” he replied, brushing past her. “I need to make arrangements for her protection.” Genevieve’s gaze drifted to Elara. Soft. Fragile. Almost apologetic. Almost. “I’m sorry for all of this,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to bring danger into your home.” Elara offered a stiff nod, but something inside her stirred uneasily. Genevieve’s voice was gentle—too gentle, considering everything that had happened. There was no panic, no real fear. Just… delicacy.

Genevieve entered silently and shut it behind her. She was dressed modestly—gray pencil skirt, ivory blouse with no sleeves, her toned arms on display. Her scent hit me before she spoke. Chanel No. 5. Classic. Clean. Familiar. The resemblance to Kelly Ripa struck me then—lean frame, delicate features. She even had the same alert poise. Christian didn’t bother to look her way. He focused instead on the watch around his wrist, turning it absently—an old tic I thought he’d finally grown out of.

"Because you're still in my room." One of the young maids carrying a bucket of hot water let out a tiny, frightened squeak. Genevieve’s eyes flared with a cold, nasty light. She took three steps toward me, her purple skirts rustling like dry grass. "You think because the King brought you up here that you are special?" Genevieve whispered. She leaned down, her sharp nose inches from mine. She smelled like heavy, artificial lavender. "You are a shield. A fat, southern shield. The King is using you to anger the High Council, nothing more. Once he is done with you, he will toss you to the guard dogs."

Then it was Cath’s turn to order, “One Smoked Apalachicola Oysters for Lyra and Paarmesan – Herb Angus for me.” “You and Lyra seemed like twin sisters.” Genevieve commented and Catherine, for some reason, wanted to make Genevieve go home. “Yeah, we saw you two earlier goofing around.” Jackson said and Klein nodded as well as some of the girls. Lyra thought that Catherine was like some Goddess for Mrs. Hernandez’s students. She was truly a role model for them and genuinely interested in making friends with her. She was seeing a new side of Catherine. “Also, you recommended her.” Ingrid added and everyone was looking at Catherine with eagerness hoping to tell the story behind that.

Someone should please tell her what sort of man does that. Sighing, she dialed a number on her phone and placed it on her ears. The next day, Genevieve walked into a luxurious restaurant in a black off-shoulder knee-length gown that had a tiny slit at the side of her thighs. An employee immediately walked to her. “Miss Gray.” “Yes? I'm here for Mr. Hank.” “Please come this way.”

Stuck in the busy, hot kitchen producing dozens of tiny rolls and desserts for the guests I was starving on crumbs of gossip. The long day wore on. Leona would return in and roll her eyes with another girl about the hot moody Alpha who didn’t want to try the vol-au-vents. Or how my papa had eaten too many pies and was making a mess of crumbs the Packhouse floor. I just wanted to know how Cillian was. Genevieve was gone in a flash after the ceremony. I had hoped that she would stay a night or two. I wanted to hug her as well and pass on my condolences. There was no message I could put on a card to convey the sympathy I had for her and Cillian.

This was the first time I was out since the news and every one of them was too excited to take a picture of me—to show the world how miserable I am without Eve. The news of Genevieve’s death went viral and almost everyone in the country knows about it. Some business associates sent their condolences but I haven’t had the time to attend to them. I am too busy trying to find my Eve to attend to anyone. I looked around and was shocked when I saw where