Martha Reader Novels & Stories

It was thick with fog and a damp chill that seemed to seep right through the floorboards of my car. I parked along the narrow, uneven gravel road, looking through the sweeping windshield wipers at the small, weathered cottage sitting near the jagged edge of the gray water. This was where Martha had lived for the last fifteen years, completely removed from the brutal politics, the endless boardroom wars, and the toxic drama of the Hale family empire. She had been our childhood nanny, the only person who had ever given Damien, Zara and me a true sense of warmth or safety when we were growing up.

she retorted without remorse. My eyes drifted to Martha, and the air seemed to drop a few degrees as I met her gaze. Her eyes, like icy shards of winter stone, stared back at me with a chilling emptiness, void of any warmth or feeling. It was as if the very soul had been drained from her, leaving behind a mask of frosty indifference. "Have you no shame, Martha? Have you no shame that you haven't only been fucking Fabian during and after my father's death but also try to destroy my relationship with Freya because she had my child all along?"

Her eyes studied my face for a moment like she was trying to see if I meant it. Then she nodded like the answer was enough for now. “That’s good.” I crossed my arms lightly. “Do you know Emily?” I asked. Martha blinked slightly at the sudden question. “Ivan’s wife?” “Yeah.” “I know her,” Martha said. “She’s a great woman.” I tilted my head. “What else?” Something flickered across Martha’s face, hesitation, maybe even caution. For someone who used to be in the military, she was surprisingly careful with her words inside this house. Then again, living with the Wade brothers probably taught anyone that lesson very quickly.

I had never felt this welcoming warmth from any other man, not even with Hubert. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Kiss me,” I begged. His smile returned. He was so handsome when he smiled. I couldn't get enough of that. He nodded and pressed his soft lips against mine. I parted my lips and pushed his head in closer. He took over my mouth. He grazed his tongue against mine and deepened the kiss. I moaned when his hand made contact with my skin. “You're making me crazy, Martha," he whispered in my ear. I felt his hands gliding over my upper body. And then I felt it on my breasts, cupping them gently.

I ground out before walking off to find my farther. 🎲🎲♠️♥️♣️♦️♠️♥️♣️♦️🎲🎲 María's pov- I scrunch my eyes at the light, My chest was aching. I feel as if my ribs have caved in. I pulled myself up wincing. The pain seems to be duller. Most likely the medication doctor Jonah had given me was still in my system. Gazing around the room I was alone, in a bedroom that I have never seen before.

That puzzled Marx more than the sibling rivalry. When Martha arrived in the Mountain, she was constantly off with Shea in the cellar, working with herbs and poring over books. Shea was the only other person Martha was close to besides Nico and now, now, they couldn't be further apart. Marx saw the sad glances Martha sent to Shea. It was heartbreaking. This was not the time to become divided. Marx knew why Daniel looked far off and pensive, but the others he would have to find out later. "You alright Bryan?"

But her dark eyes were sharp, darting nervously across the hallway. "I know you don't know me, child," the woman said, her voice raspy and trembling slightly. "My name is Martha. I... I worked in the nursery quarters at Blackwood pack Estate twenty years ago." I stepped back, opening the door wider. "Please, come inside." Martha stepped carefully into my guest room, her worn leather shoes making barely a sound against the thick carpet. She waited until the guard pulled the door closed from outside before letting out a long, shaky breath. Her hands were trembling so badly she could barely hold onto her own handbag.

Martha said and went back to her work post. Martha is my best friend. We became friends three years ago when I started working at Mrs. Smith's boutique. She helped me a lot when I was newly employed, such as how to stay calm when I attended to snorty customers because I was very short-tempered. She has mud-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, and plump lips. Her face was dotted with freckles which only added to her unique beauty. She was of average height and very curvy in the right places. I've always envied her beauty. Martha is a man-lover; she fawns over any handsome man she sees. She has had a few heartbreaks in the past, but that doesn't seem to bother her. Nevertheless, I still love her.

Martha asked quietly, leaning against my door. “No, thank you, please retire early,” I said calmly, closing my eyes as she walked out of my room. Immediately after she left I got up and brought out my mother's diary. Checking for where I stopped reading and putting on a small lamp so I could continue from where I stopped. “You have work tomorrow,” I whispered quietly, making a mental note not to read too much. The next few pages were about a man she had met, one she was drawn to at first sight.

Jason read quietly beside her, his eyes scanning faster and faster, his face hardening. And then came the worst of it. Entries describing Martha’s unknowing involvement in George Reed’s early land deals. On paper, they looked like small, harmless transactions. But pieced together, they formed a clear pattern: coercion, manipulation, the first stones in George’s empire of corruption. Martha had been nothing more than a pawn, a desperate woman caught in his net. Bella’s throat burned. She could almost feel Seraphina’s cold smile in the room, whispering: Your mother was never the saint people think she was.