Hemlock Grove Olivia Godfrey Novels & Stories

Freya smiled as she watched Olivia, her granddaughter of so many generations passed that she couldn’t fathom how to explain it, enter the room. “You’re in good spirits today, gamma,” the girl said as she practically bounced onto the sofa that was opposite the easy chair that Freya had chosen. “Did you pass the news of my arrival to your vampire lover?” Freya asked. “I did,” Olivia replied. “I’m not sure how much he took in, though.” “Were you in the throes of passion again?” Freya asked with annoyance.

Olivia’s eyes clouded with sorrow at the memory of her dearest friend. “I am still the same, Sophia. But now I have learnt to hide that gentleness. If I show it, they will destroy me once more. Emily did not die from an accident, nor did she take her own life—she was certainly murdered. I shall clear my name one day and uncover more evidence of who was guilty of her death.” Olivia’s resolve was firm. --- A few days later, Olivia received an invitation to dinner from Ludwig Harrington. At a lavish restaurant, Ludwig greeted her with a cordial smile.

Olivia began, her voice a silken thread in the heavy silence, "that whatever I did, I did for a good cause. Aside from keeping Harrison’s involvement from you, Timothy... everything else I told you was the truth." She began to pull back the curtain on the last sixteen years. She spoke of that sweltering afternoon when a trembling, sweating Harrison had walked into her office and confessed to the murder of Alexander Hemsworth. She described how Harrison—haunted by the sight of Elena and a young Tim being thrown into the gutter—had begged Olivia to intervene.

There was something familiar about her, something that tugged at the edges of his memory. Then it hit him. Olivia Grant. The missing wolf, who had been declared rogue five years ago. Fred frowned, his mind racing. Olivia had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a trail of speculation and rumours. Some said she had gone rogue, others that she had been killed. But here she was, alive and well, with a child no less. What was she doing with Veronica? And who was the child? Before Fred could react, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back with surprising force. He was spun around, and he found himself face-to-face with another wolf—a tall, imposing figure with a fierce loo

In the blink of an eye, three days went by in a flash. The evening of the deadline, Olivia brought home a shiny new guest. Shiny in the sense that she was a trophy to be carried around for the next few weeks. ‘‘My granddaughter has never mentioned that she plays golf with a member of the Hayne family. It’s a pleasure to have you in my home, Miss Hayne.’’ ‘‘Please, Mrs. Hodge, Giovanni is just fine.’’ A brunette who sat beside Olivia at the dinner table smiled brightly at her.

The tone of his voice lowered to a darkened whisper, “And sit down.” A slight tremor ran through my left hand at the intensity as I stiffly sat back down on the chair. From the corner of my eye, Keyleth shoved a piece of her hair to the back of her ear and started to speak. “Father,” she called out softly, “I am to blame. Oliver had nothing to do with this.” “No! What?” My both brows shot up as I glanced at Keyleth and back to the alpha of Valeras. “I wan—”

What about Olivia? ***

“Olivia, I already gave you a clear answer the last time we met. I’m not interested in understanding your evil scheme, and I’m certainly not interested in being a part of it. I don’t want to end up like Maddison Leighton.” “What if I had a way for you to change Elias’ mind?” “What could you possibly do?” Olivia shifted herself forward, lowered her voice, and asked, “Do you know how Jeanette managed to weasel her way into the Godfrey family?”

Sophia The chatter erupts into laughter as we open the front door of Charwood’s pack house. I look around in awe as we step over the threshold to one of the most beautiful cliffside homes I’ve ever seen. After our day of fun in the sun, Oliver received a message from Ashleigh inviting us to dinner tonight to officially meet some of their members and friends. His hand tightens around mine as he leads the way through the house and into the kitchen, where people (some familiar and some not) are standing around with drinks and nibbles.

“What do you mean?” As soon as he finished speaking, we heard the sound of police sirens. The sirens got louder and closer. Xylo began to panic. I showed him the video of him using human blood to water the tree. He stared in disbelief but still would not let go of the tree. He clung to it tightly. He suddenly thought of an excuse and tried to explain himself. “That’s not human blood. It’s chicken blood.” Seeing things getting worse, he softened and begged, “Olivia, please, don’t demolish it. Locust is here. Don’t cut her down!”