Lucky Marissa Stapley Novels & Stories

She begged, "Please spare me. I know my mistake now!" The tips of my fingers turned white, digging so tightly into my palm that it almost hurt. I stared at her and said slowly, "Did you ever stop to think how much bad luck I've had to endure this past month? I got hit by flowerpots, run over by cars, and even had the proposal I worked so hard on stolen by you! The doctors said I came down with three or four terminal illnesses overnight. "When you were carelessly squandering my luck, did you ever think this day would come? You brought this on yourself, Regina."

“Can I steal your grandfather?” “By all means,” I say. “You’re one of us now.” The evening flows on, a whirlwind of speeches, laughter, toasts, and spoons hitting plates. Marissa, Julie’s maid of honor, takes the mic next, her tone light and teasing. “Julie’s kind of my boss at work,” she begins, grinning. “And I’ll say this—she’s the least pain-in-the-ass boss I’ve ever had. Which, trust me, is saying something.”

Damian sat upright, eyes sharp, reaching forward and said to the driver. “Take me straight to the pack house.” —————— “So?” Laura asked lightly. Mira gathered utensils saying “ Alpha Damian is out on a business trip. Should be back within a day or two.” Laura hummed thoughtfully. Heading to the kitchen sink with plates. That was when it happened. Click. Click. Click. The sharp sound of heels echoed through walls like a gravel slamming in court. Marisa. She descended down the stairs slowly, her silk dress trailing behind her like she was on the runway. Her eyes scanned the kitchen until they found Hope. Then they hardened like steel.

Melissa what are you doing in there, I heard the princess Luciana calling out to me and I immediately swam out of the room. "Am sorry my princess I'm just arranging the room" I said to her and she rolled her eyes sitting down and ordering me to fix her hair. My name is Melissa and I'm a blued tail mermaid slave. I work in the palace as the princess Luciana's maid. I was taken in as a palace slave when my mother committed a crime. She fell in love with a human and got pregnant for the human an act which is a crime in Atlantica.

Fishing for gossip, as usual. Marissa Starley has been my best friend since college. We'd even landed our internships together at Bluestar and later on our jobs. But while I'd gotten promoted as Antony's Personal Secretary, Mary worked as a Project Instructor at HQ. And now that I'm here at Reefwood, Mary has been promoted to take my place. "Please don't ask." I told her now. "I've started to curse my existence because of him." "You mean he's not the lazy ass guy everyone says he is?" She asks.

Narrator The storm outside is mild compared to what brews behind the gilded walls of the Martinez estate. Inside Tyler’s sprawling mansion, Marsiella Martinez sits across from him, her expression unreadable, as always—a woman skilled in masks, manipulation, and rot. “She’s too comfortable,” Marsiella says, fingering the rim of her wine glass. “Stacey thinks she’s won. She walks around that house like it belongs to her.” Tyler watches her carefully. “She’s carrying Juan’s child, Marsiella. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

“They’ll catch me before I can make it to the grounds.” “I have a car waiting for you at the end of the driveway of the pack,” Marissa told her calmly, “and he won’t be able to mind-link when he’s been stabbed. All you have to do is get him while he’s vulnerable and when you are both,” she coughed, “alone.” Realization dawned. She looked at her daughter with a newfound respect. “You really did think of everything. How did you get the guard to let you in?” “Bribes and my body,” Marissa said bluntly, “I had nothing to lose, and he had everything to gain. Men are such simple creatures,” she added with scorn, “easily manipulated. They only think with their dicks," she said scornfully.

When you have a tattoo like that fused to your skin—the indelible mark of the orphanage—no words are necessary to show that you are not part of the family. It doesn’t matter how much money you have. It doesn’t matter how many casinos you own. You’re still the abandoned kid. “Want some company?” a female voice interrupted his obsessive thoughts. He looked up. It was Lily, a high-class escort he knew and used the services of. “No.” “Sebastian, you’re always so kind,” she said sarcastically, but there was a smile on her lips. “And you, always inconvenient.” “I’m just doing my job... When I see a rich man getting drunk alone, I’m sure I’ll get a lot of money out of him.”

MARISSA "THE PREGNANCY PLOT: HOW MARISSA WALTERS TRAPPED THE VANCE HEIR." The headline on The Daily Insider felt like a physical blow to my stomach. I scrolled with trembling fingers, my vision blurring as I read the words that felt like they had been ripped from my private nightmares.

“I didn’t mean to trick him. Well, I mean, I did...” Ryan collapsed into the seat across from me, glowering. “What happened? I thought you loved him.” “I do love him.” God, did I love him. “That’s exactly why I did it. Remember that friend I told you about the other day? It’s not a friend who found out her boyfriend’s mother is sick, Ryan. I found out Mr. Marx is sick. Lung cancer. He’s dying, and Kaden doesn’t know because he refuses to talk to him.”