Marilyn Thornhill Wednesday Novels & Stories

His wife, Marielle Harrow, sat at the center of the vast living room, surrounded by relatives, political allies, security personnel, and silent staff. Her eyes were swollen, her voice hoarse, but the storm inside her was far from quiet. The moment someone whispered “Elena Thorne” and “prime suspect” in the same breath, something inside her snapped. “She killed my husband,” Marielle said, her voice trembling with anger. “And Roman Thorne, that man, he’s hiding her. Protecting her.” Her sister in law reached out, squeezing her hand gently. “Marielle, nothing has been confirmed yet...”

"But I can't spend every night with you so we're going to have to take turns." "Irresponsible," Hunter shook his head. "Very irresponsible," Thorn added and folded his arms. "I don't want to be bothered," he threw a cold stare at me but it didn't affect me as much as before. I remembered how well he had played Hunter's role anytime I looked at him. It made me feel warm inside and I recognized his efforts to get along. It was really sweet. "I'll take Mondays, Thursdays and Sundays," Dylan listed. "Just three? You sly fuck!" Thorn groaned.

The next day was Sunday. Marilyn woke up naturally. It was almost nine o'clock. She got up and washed up. She was not going to jog this morning. She planned to know Natasha better, and then finish her topic. After washing up, she turned on the computer, opened the browser, and found Natasha's information. She carefully browsed through every piece of information! "Mom!" Laverne shouted outside. Marilyn looked back and smiled gently. She got up and opened the door. The morning sunlight shone through the gaps between the thick curtains and scattered on the ground!

The face and prestige of the Thorne family were known throughout the city and beyond. After enquiring at the reception, he was directed to Jessica Willows, who had been sent in in the early hours of the morning. Getting there, Ann was seated there, worry and concern etching every corner of her face. But they were both unfamiliar to themselves. Except that Ann recognized Liam Thorne of the Thornes. “... Excuse me. Is this the ward for Jessica Willows?” He asked firmly. “... Yes.” She replied curtly. Liam, without waiting another Second, swung the door open.

"Thornhaven was cleared," Kellan said flatly. "We searched every room. Every cell. There was nothing left." The council meeting room was tense. Maren sat at the head of the table, her scarred face grim. Sera stood by the window, her auburn braid now streaked with grey but her green eyes as sharp as ever. Wren sat near the door with her hands clasped in her lap. Orin stood behind my chair, his arms crossed.

they were a different situation. Trix furrowed her brows as she stared at the picture. Colson's eyes were glowing. Half of his face was obscured by the light. Trix's lips parted but before a word could leave her lips. The principal suddenly opened the door to his office and Mrs. Weller appeared in the doorway. Oh, and Colson looked as he was about to blow up 'Talk about triple threat.' "Mrs. Williams, we meet again, for this week," Mr. Thorn said dryly.

“Is she okay?” Serena nodded. “Yeah… she’s fine.” --- Inside the car, Marilyn stared out the window as the city lights streaked past like blurred gold ribbons. She tried to hold her torn blouse closed, her fingers trembling with fatigue. When they reached the staff residence—a gated complex Serena had purchased years ago—she managed a weak smile at the guard on duty. “Can you open the gate, please?” The guard recognized her instantly and lifted the barrier. “Welcome back, Ms. Thornton.”

Or just pin me to the wall again, golden-eyed and feral, like nothing happened? A group of women in power blazers huddles at the counter, their voices cutting through the noise like designer knives. I don't mean to eavesdrop—okay, fine, I totally do—but when one of them drops a name that hits like a gut punch, I freeze. "...Victoria Thorn is back in the country, did you see the news?" My hand slips on the portafilter, nearly dumping grounds everywhere. "Yeah, airport pics are everywhere—she slayed in that trench coat," another says, scrolling her phone. "Bet she's here for Killian Voss. Childhood sweethearts, right? Families have been pushing for an engagement forever."

Everything seemed to stop moving just then. For a moment, it was just Elena and the strange woman in the hall. Mrs. Anderson? Who was this woman? A relative? The woman turned slightly at being addressed, and in that moment said something to the other woman. Then she turned back to Elena. This time her expression was cooler. “So,” she said slowly, “Who the hell are you?” Before she could respond, Aaron stepped between them. “Coz, this is Marilyn Thompson,” he turned to Elena. “Marilyn, this is my cousin, Helen Anderson.”

After taking her blood pressure readings and making sure everything was fine, I stayed with Marilyn for a few minutes to keep her company, having some spare time on my hands. "Alright Marilyn, i'll-" My words are interrupted by sharp consecutive knocks on the door, shortly followed by a man entering the room. A man who made me uneasy just by his presence, a man whose presence alone made everything around me still....a man I so badly never wanted to be around, Thorne.