Henry Williamson Novel Novels & Stories

The magnificent white mansion in front amazed her. "Is this the Western Wood Pack refugee house?" Camila asked in shock. She hadn't even noticed their arrival. Henry laughed first, then replied coldly, "No." Camila gulped. She had thought the Western Pack was so rich that they built such a magnificent place just for homeless foreigners and werewolves. But as they approached the front, since Henry had parked far off in the garage—she saw how grand the exterior was. The white mansion stood thrice as big as her father's. Guards at the frontage bowed to Henry as he walked ahead of her.

Then I opened the office door. Mr. Davidson cones back into the room with a hesitant smile. "Sir, I need to open a saving account with the money my mother left me," I state while returning his slight smile. "Of course, Ms. Marshall," he replies. Thirty minutes later, Mr.Wilson and I are driving to the Wilson's, and I can't wait to hit my pillow and sob.

If the housekeeper had not been standing a short distance behind Hunter, he would have beaten this ungrateful son to death. Seeing Henry furious and showing no sign of contacting anyone in Stanley City to free Liz, Hunter frowned. A flash of worry crossed his eyes. Every second wasted put Liz in more danger. Footsteps sounded behind them. William’s tall silhouette filled the study doorway. He moved quickly into the room. His face was ice-cold, almost killing the heat in the air. “Uncle William,” Hunter began, but William did not look at him. He strode straight to Henry. As soon as their eyes met, Henry felt as if his soul had been chilled. He instinctively slid down in his chair and stammere

“Henry, the court sent people over. They said that the owner of this house had given us seven days to evacuate or she would call the police on us.” “What? Why didn’t you call me?” “You were seeing ghosts at that time, so how could I have called you?” Henry felt goosebumps all over his body. “Can you not talk about it, please?” “So, what are we going to do? Will we end up on the streets?” “That won’t happen. This house belongs to us, and no one has the right to throw us out. Let them come, I will throw the house documents in their faces.” That night, the Wilsons slept peacefully. But the following morning, when Henry was going to freshen up, he was so shocked that he almost fainted.

Chapter 50: Kill for me? "Indeed. Henry is quite the character. I jest, of course, when I say he would kill for you," she chuckled heartily, relishing in her own sense of triumph. Elsie struggled to contain her growing urge to burst into laughter. She found Trixson's lies utterly ridiculous. The Henry Rowan she knew was a self-centered pimp who wouldn't lift a finger to save her life. He only cared about drugs, women, and money. Nothing more!

I accidentally brushed against Henry's phone on the table, and after a brief hesitation, I picked it up and checked it, immediately finding a second social media profile. I noticed a conversation history between Henry and the novel's protagonist, William Johnson, who, judging by their messages, had also realized that the world they were living in was part of a novel. William said, "I recall that in the plot of the novel, Claire's infatuation with me led her to constant rivalry with Renee, so much so that she even had people torment her, driving Renee into depression. "You married such a spiteful woman and still had to feign affection before her. It must have been so exhausting for you, Henry

William was looking at everyone nervously, making Sia's blood boil, but she kept her lips sealed. "I told you!" Mr Holmes exclaimed from his spot, which made Sia's head to snap back at him. " I told you, that Henry will cause problem one day and that we should get rid of this problem! But you never listen!" He taunted further, raising his finger at Sia.

I wiped my hands on a towel, took a steadying breath, and carried the plate into the dining room. Malum sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. Mrs. Sutton was already seated, and Cassandra stood nearby, scrolling through her phone as if she owned the space. I placed the plate in front of Malum and stepped back quietly. “Dinner is ready,” I said softly. Malum didn’t look up. He simply nodded once and picked up his cutlery. For a moment, I hesitated. Lately—because of Mrs. Harrison, because of Scarlett, because of the warmth I had tasted in other houses—I had grown used to something dangerous.

Algernon's words hit William like a thunderbolt. "What?" William exclaimed, swiftly looking back at Henry, only to be met with a more gruesome sight. His hand was buried deep in Henry's chest, and he quickly withdrew it, rising to his feet in shock. "No, no, this can't be happening. This isn't real," William muttered, taking steps back from Henry's lifeless body, which lay in a pool of blood.

They barely reacted to Henry’s shouting, which only made him angrier. My mind started spinning. Henry Williams… involved in something illegal? It made sense. The arrogance, the mysterious transfer from Britain, the way everyone seemed scared of him. Maybe drugs. Maybe something worse. If the police or DEA were raiding his place, then this was my golden ticket out of the project.