Mary Jane Watson Novels & Stories

"My actual middle name isn't Rose." She said and he looked at her in surprise. "It's Mary. Sarah Mary Watson. But not anymore though. I changed it to Sarah Rose Watson in order to give my love for rose another height. From childhood, I was obsessed with this flower. I… I… just go crazy whenever I see them. It fascinates me to no level. You can say that I am pretty obsessed with this flower." She said with a small chuckle.

All of the women who got auctioned have their files; it’s always been my practice to keep a database because issues may come up later and it's my duty to protect myself, my brothers, and the organization. I laid out the files on my desk. I’ve studied each of them closely, and the only conclusion I have reached is that I need more whiskey. Part of my brain tells me it’s not what I think— a bunch of miscalculated conclusions. But the other one tells me I may be right. Jaxen is not who they say she is. A shadow fell over my door, blocking out the light from the hall. I looked up to see who it was, and it was Martha. Still beautiful even after turning fifty-four. Her blonde hair, neatly packed i

She couldn't hear it as her attention was on the design of the house. A moment later, the same woman came out with someone. Someone in a wheelchair. A woman. Ashley took her in. Her eyes trailed down from her grey hair, lifeless blue eyes, to her wrinkled skin. It was difficult to tell if she was alive or not. She was paralyzed. Ashley looked at Mr. Watson, confused. Mr. Watson had his eyes on the old woman. She could see affection shimmering in his eyes. He approached her and kneeled. His one hand shot out to caress her wrinkled cheek. There was pain, affection, and many other emotions dancing in his eyes.

Ash whispered to her as he looked at a few guys who were taking photos of them. " By sending her, you did, " Maya said as she pointed her finger at Azora and walked out. Her vision was a little blurry when she reached her room; dropping the bag on the floor, She took deep breaths. She did not want to take painkillers but it was worsening, She picked the water bottle and gulped down the tablets once again. the coldness of the floor send shivers to her body, but it felt nice, nor she wanted to get up neither she had the power to.

"We'll be at your mother's house soon." Lorenzo steered the steering wheel to a minimalist-style two-story house overgrown with various kinds of plants in front of it. Amanda Watson is a retired woman from a private company, so since Archer Watson died Mrs. Watson spends most of her time tending the flowers in the garden. Especially since her only daughter rarely comes home and is always busy handling difficult cases out of town, Amanda Watson overcomes her loneliness by occupying herself with the beautiful plants in her yard. "Come on down, you must have missed him, right?"

Mrs Whitney asked her. "Who are you?" Jane asked her. "I'm Mrs Whitney, I brought you here early this morning. You were badly injured and unconscious, so I had to bring you in." "Oh," that was all Jane could say, then the event of yesterday came rushing back to her memory. And she started crying. "That monster he he he took me by force, even though I had begged and pleaded with him. He defiled me," "Shoo don't cry, it's okay it's all alright. I'm here now, don't worry." Mrs Whitney pulled her into her embrace, she might not have children of her own.

— Luciana knew that they were talking about the little girl. —Well, that makes me very happy, I think you already know most of them, so before starting the meeting, I'm going to introduce you to my beautiful daughter, the person in charge of the company, Luciana Brown, honey, this is Santiago O 'Brien — Santiago smiled as he finally knew who the beautiful woman was and extended his hand.

I got off and went to the kitchen. I need to cool down. That woman's behavior is heating up my head. Maeji is her name. She was the leader of the two, you thought they were strong and I only got sick because of the rain not because of his slap so weak. In the evening, Nica entered my room with her two friends, Shanley and Laira. "Please Sis Mary join us! It could be more fun!" Shanley even applauded. I just laughed at the way they looked.

Paxton appeared just in time, leading a doctor over before Abigail could reply. "Paxton, thank you," Abigail said. At this crucial moment, it was Paxton, the man of few words, who truly came through. She thanked him and turned to Dr. Watson. "Could you explain Mr. Zane's condition to me in detail, Dr. Watson? If there's any way I can help, please don't hesitate to ask." "If you could come with me to my office, Ms. Renee." Dr. Watson, a middle-aged man with a balding scalp but a youthful voice, led Abigail to his office and handed her a document. "Mr. Zane's condition is a complication from an old injury."

When our gazes meet, she asks, “Are you Jennifer?” I nod. “Did he talk about me?” For a moment she says nothing. Then tears spill over again, sliding down her cheeks. I sit beside her on the empty chair and touch her shoulder lightly. She keeps crying. One of Watson’s assistants, Stella Johnson, comes over at once. “Mrs Watson, please don’t upset yourself too much,” she says softly. “Your health will get worse, and David will scold all of us later.” Mr Watson leans closer to his wife and says gently, “Hear that? Our son is not dying. He is still fighting. And once he gets better, he won’t have any peace if you make yourself sick too.”