Legacies Lizzie Novels & Stories

Barth responded to placate Lizzie’s mind. Lizzie paced around the room almost to tears, “If he touches as much as a strand on my Holly’s hair I swear to God…” Alexis unexpectedly walked in the TV room startling Lizzie. She immediately ended the call when Alexis asked her, “Who were you talking to and what’s going on?” Lizzie hesitated before crafting a lie, “It was just a friend.” Alexis accepted the lie and threw herself on the chaise. She took a cup of popcorn and turned on the TV.

Bruno retorted, smiling at her defiance, this stubbornly naive girl. Lizzie turned away, refusing to look at him. She thought that as long as she resigned herself to her fate, that she behaved as a wife in name only, it would be enough. But now, having lost her body, she must protect her heart above all. Suddenly, a white pill bottle landed on the bed. "Take it. Even as my lawful wife, you have no right to bear my child." Trembling, Lizzie picked up the bottle, scoffed coldly, "If you don't want me to have your child, then don't touch me!" She threw the pill bottle across the room, it landed on the plush carpet.

“To my daughter Grace and Julian Ashford you thought love could kill legacy. But I’m here to remind you: legacy never dies. It’s reborn. And I’m coming home.” The crowd gasped. The screen went dark. Silence. Then whispers. Then chaos. Grace felt the world tilt under her heels. Julian caught her just in time. “She’s alive,” Grace whispered. “She’s coming for us.” Julian pulled her close. “Then we fight fire with fire.” But far away, aboard a private jet slicing through the sky toward New York, Lillian poured herself a glass of Bordeaux. She raised it to the storm clouds beyond the window. “To the crown,” she whispered. “And the blood it takes to keep it.”

Lizzie would most likely be executed if Melina found out she was going to name an abandoned child after a deceased princess, and Mavellin must be forced to live here alone for the rest of her life. Lizzie recalls how her life was flipped completely upside down when she first moved here. She couldn't get acclimated to the bone-chilling cold air, could see fog everywhere, and couldn't distinguish between day and night because the sky was entirely shrouded. Over time, the artifacts in the palace became covered in a thick coating of dust, making them unusable. For the first three months, Mavellin was usually hungry and cried until she was exhausted and fell asleep on her own. Due to limited expo