Margo Hanson Novels & Stories

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Do you know someone who works at the entertainment club?" I asked. I saw she was lost for a second and it seemed her body got tense. She shook her head. "No..." she shortly replied. She reached for a glass of water and drank it straight. She looked really tense. "There is someone who works at the entertainment club who lives in your village," I opened up and started eating again. "Do you know someone named Magda? She's a good friend of mine," I asked and glanced in her direction.

The sun had already set by the time I finished work. Jaime always called this place a remote village. Every minute here felt like torture to her. I thought she would not be able to stand it and would leave. To my surprise, she waited outside my office door. When she saw me, she stood up at once and hurried to my side. “Joseph, you still haven’t told me what happened. Did your mother really die?” I stopped walking and looked at her. A cold laugh escaped me. “My mother died. Isn’t that what you wanted? Your mother’s so‑called killer finally paid the price. Are you satisfied now?”

He's just saying words as he always has. "You'll get over it," I say solemnly as I walk faster. However, I don't get far before he catches up with me. We are about to get into his car when Margo ambushes us. She's a journalist, an amateur one, and runs a popular news blog. Today, she's wearing a short pink skirt and a jacket. With a smile, she lowers her head to Kian. "Good morning, cousin," she greets him. "Morning, Margo,"

And territory claimed, their temporary kingdom safe, she snapped open her laptop. “What is it with you and missing girls these days?” Margo took a sip. “Jesus,” she then said, though she wasn’t sure whether it was about her obsession with the lost and forgotten or that first acrid punch of lab-born cinnamon and pumpkin. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” she said. “I mean, that’s not a usual thing, you know, right?”

WINNIE “My doctor’s appointment is scheduled for Friday,” Margo tells me on the other end of the line. It’s halfway through Monday, and I’m busy putting together a vision board for some of the rooms in her Hamptons house that still need to be decorated. “I can’t wait to hear all about it,” I respond, shaking my head and deciding against one of the paint colors I initially liked for one of the guest rooms. “I’m so nervous but also so excited. I didn’t know I could be both, but overall, I’m just ready to have a professional confirm it for me and not a stick I peed on.”

If only I hadn’t been such a coward… “Ma’am, please. You cannot barge in like this. It’s terribly inappropriate,” Margo’s tense voice filtered in through the partially open door of the conference room. I had never heard such panic in her tone before. Whatever was happening outside, whoever she was speaking to, held my attention completely. As I stepped out, Margo’s back came into view. She appeared to be blocking someone from advancing further. There were guards behind the person whom my assistant was earnestly trying to dissuade.

Margo straightened then stepped back as if that was the only she could stop herself from committing murder, my murder to be exact. "I will not tolerate this... I don't know what you are up to but I will not let you sabotage me" "Sabotage you?" I chuckled, scoffing a little as I got to my feet and stepped around my desk until I was standing in front of her. "I don't need to do anything Margo, you have already done a good job of sabotaging yourself, isn't that why your company is going to under? I looked through the last investment you made, Margo, and I have to say I am disappointed at your lack of noticing what a hoax it was"

Write a theory here, who is Margaretha? See you 👋 LOVE ALL❤️

she says, eyeing me over the rim of her teacup with a mischievous glint, “tell me again how you ended up joining a secret society run by Abigail Winchester, who, by the way, could stop traffic just by walking into a room?” I grin, already sensing where this is headed. “She’s not my type.” “Right,” Margo says, drawing the word out, “but then there's also Dr. Madison Petrosky, the human embodiment of a cardiac arrest—who just so happens to cause and treat them.” I chuckle, leaning back against the cushions and draping my arm across the back of the sofa. “This sounds like an interrogation.” “Oh, it’s not,” she says with faux innocence. “Just a woman trying to understand her fiancé’s motivations

It was quite easy to transform Jane Puckett, scholarship student and chronic coffee drinker, into Jailbird, the mysterious masked dancer in Fantasy Island. The hangover would have to wait. Bills didn't pay themselves.