Novelas y relatos de In Her Place

It was initially registered under Liana's name, and Rachael had never anticipated they would end up living here. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. The living room in this place wasn't even half the size of her former walk-in closet. She couldn't believe that a high-society lady like herself would end up in such a situation. Unable to contain her anger any longer, Rachael picked up the phone and dialed a number. At the same time, Audrey was on the set in the Northwest. Audrey was still busy shooting, and she had entrusted her phone to Kim for safekeeping.

She turned and went home. There were now three hours left. She threw out the last of her remaining belongings in the house. Then, she lay on the couch alone, watching the sunset fade behind the horizon. When there were two hours left, she opened her laptop and edited the photos she had taken earlier into a short video. The video was complete when it was the final hour. After watching it once through, she picked up the camera, turned it toward herself, and pressed the record button. She wanted to record a farewell letter—a message for Andre.

Dipping my hand into my pocket, I pull out my cigarette pack and light one up, the tip flaring like a warning in the dark. Then I turn around, heading back to the room where my men have started the clean-up. The chamber walls, lined with steel and darkened by years of violence, bear one new thing: her. Aretha Hawthorne. Photos of her cover the far wall—grainy, high-def, wide angles and hidden lenses. Her sitting at a café where she's obviously looking down at a menu, her walking into what I now know is her company, GemsThorne. Her staring too long at a painting in some gallery, and so much more, ranging from her in casual settings to professional ones, her outfits being the indicator. She lo

I stepped back, wiping sweat from my brow with my forearm. “Where is she?” he asked, already knowing the answer mattered. “Somewhere planning an empire.” He nodded once, like that was the only rational place for her to be. ⸻ The estate had a thousand doors and a hundred rooms, but she chooses the same places to exist in: • The war room • The archive gallery • The library • Or the spaces outside where the world feels breakable I found her in the library again. Of course I did. She was perched sideways in an armchair too large for her body, legs curled under her, reading something that looked like maps masquerading as paperwork.

“What am I here for?” My eyes dragged over her mouth, her collar, her pulse stuttering at her throat. “To remember your place. And to look like something no one else is allowed to touch.”

I could swear in anything that I had no idea they were already there waiting for this to happen, cause somehow, I knew it was bound to happen, maybe they did too. She's surrounded. She looks at me across the warehouse floor and in the industrial light her face is exhausted like I've just betrayed her or something, and the performance is gone, all of it, every layer stripped away until she's just a woman standing in a warehouse in Red Hook having run out of moves. "It should have been mine," she says.

I need her to be comfortable with me before I start touching her. “Follow me.” We walk in silence, down the stairs to the ground floor. I nod and greet pack members as we pass them. I feel like there’s a spring in my step, and I know it’s because I finally have my mate by my side. When we walk into the dining room, many eyes turn to us. I worry that it’s too much for her to take, but I can’t stop people from being curious. I pull the chair out for her next to my usual seat. She tentatively sits in the seat, looking around the table. Tyrice and Houston are already seated, along with Zara.

In her eyes, her daughter had always been upright, loyal, and decent. That was why Josephine never allowed Henry to show up around Delilah. Now Delilah's chest was heaving from rage, and her breathing was turning ragged. I rang the bell right away. "Delilah? Delilah!" Delilah gripped my hand tightly, struggling to breathe. Then her strength gave out, and she fainted. Henry sneered. "She's long past her expiry date. Better if she died now." Something in me snapped. I swung my fist right into his temples, venting all my rage and resentment on him.

She was simply walking the way she always did when she thought no one was watching with the same quiet confidence that had slammed into him the very first day she walked into his office. The only difference now was the runway beneath her feet, the hundred-plus people watching, and the lights that seemed to find her like they already knew exactly where she belonged. Whispers rippled through the audience almost immediately. Soft. Surprised. The kind of sound a room makes when something unexpected and beautiful catches it off guard. Phones rose along the front rows. Someone in the second row leaned toward their neighbor and murmured something Henry couldn’t make out. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

After Adrian Cole’s older brother died, he promised to take care of the widow he left behind. On Mara’s first day in our home, she cried beside the sunny windows in our bedroom. “Claire wakes up to sunlight every morning. She is so lucky.” That night, Adrian asked me to move into the study. Eight months later, the acquisition I had led was ready for its final presentation. When Mara broke down at the celebration and said everyone had moved forward except her, Adrian asked me to give her the presentation that could secure my promotion. “You are good at what you do. You will have other chances.” I had loved him for seven years and stood beside him as he built his career. I had also given up on