Mary Wardwell Novels & Stories

I stood up, using my height to crowd the space, forcing Conrad to take a half-step back. "Let’s not get emotional," I said, smoothing the lapels of my jacket. "Sarah Hale is a brilliant woman. She’s a corporate strategist who has generated millions in revenue for the agricultural and economic sectors this fiscal year alone. She doesn't go around looking for petty drama, and she certainly doesn't waste her time digging dirt on your wives without being severely provoked." "Provoked?" Marcus scoffed, though he shrank back into his chair. "She went into a private room at The Pierre and cased a scene."

Stephen was a smooth-talking businessman through and through, definitely not easy to deal with at all. And so, with each of them holding their own thoughts, the dinner finally came to an end. Before Stephen left, Stellar walked him to the door. Mary watched them go, their figures side by side in an oddly harmonious way. She narrowed her eyes, unable to hold back one last jab. "Mr. Ward, you seem a bit too thin. I’d guess you don’t exercise much. A man with such a weak frame can hardly be relied upon to protect a young lady. I’d suggest working out more."

Emily Warner I came home after two hour chat with Mary. I felt like I finally met someone who understands me and doesn’t look at me with pity in her eyes, she knows exactly what I am talking about and where I am coming from. She made me jot down points on a notepad because I would for sure forget them, I was surprised at how predictable I am. I kept telling her that Lucas would never get jealous and he would see through my tactics. But she laughed at me and said that I don’t know how men work.

"Mrs. Howl, did you and Mr. Howl fight? He stormed out this morning, looking furious. He'd even asked me for a sandwich." Amy was wearing a thin-strapped top, her shoulders marked with faint bruises—the kind only a mate's teeth could leave. Around her neck hung a 30-carat ruby, the fiery red stone catching the sunlight. The brilliance of it burned my eyes. My voice wavered. "That's…" Amy took a slow step toward me. "It was a gift from my mate. He said I just turned 20, and nothing suits me better than a dazzling gemstone like this."

Mary frowned, leading the way to the house. Sarael came around not long after I set her on the sofa. “Oh, I am so sorry. Please don’t fuss, Mrs. Christian. It’s your daughter’s wedding.” Sarael tried to stop the woman from bringing her some hors d'oeuvre and a bottle of water. “Nonsense. It’s my property, so my job is to be sure people are okay.” Mary dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

I asked her. “We’re bowing.” An elderly woman entered the room slowly while staring directly at me. I was pretty sure I’d seen her face before but couldn’t remember where exactly. “Firehearts,” she began, “are not ordinary wolves. I’m Elder Mara from Black Ridge Pack.” Now I remembered where I saw her. Rodney’s Uncle married a woman from Black Ridge Pack and had a million dollar wedding. It was this woman who officiated it. Elder Mara stepped forward and bowed her head before me. My jaw dropped to the floor. When I first saw her, I thought she was a very important woman. To see her bowing for me was humbling. I wanted to tell her never to do that again but she resumed talking.

“He’s sired a few children outside of marriage that we know of. Ethan is one of them.” Kallista’s lips parted slightly. His attitude made a little more sense now. Delia’s voice lowered further. “His mother is one of the mysteries of both this estate and family but the girl servants like to gossip and as much as we discredit most of what they say, there was this one time we had strong suspicions it was correct—a very strong one. A maid, Marina, overheard a conversation between the old patriarch, Mr. Terence Hawthorne, and a cleaner at the office. He was paying her off. Her name was Martha Sterling.”

We were worse than broke; we were owned. I was twenty-three now. I spent my days scrubbing the same tiles I scrubbed as a child. My mother, Rosa, was even more angry than before. "Stop looking at those books, Valeria!" she screamed at me one night. I was sitting on the floor of our laundry room, trying to read a law textbook I had found in the trash behind the village library. "Books do not put bread on the table. You are a maid. Your mother is a maid. Your grandmother was a maid. That is all you will ever be!"

“Welcome back, Cilla Markle.” “Thanks, Maryanne. I missed you.” Maryanne chuckled and pulled away. “I’m not desperate enough to believe that, Cilla. Let’s keep the flattery to the minimum.” “Why is it so hard for you to believe I can miss you?” Maryanne rolled her eyes. “My dear, I’m going to return to the house now. I have actual important things to do.” “Hmm, I know you do.” “Cara Girad, I hope you’ve not been spreading lies about me.”

Mrs Angela said, smiling gleefully. Tracy Molly turned, her radiant smile beaming as she showcased an effortless grace. Her poised demeanour was matched only by her stunning appearance. Her dress flowed elegantly around her, accentuating her feminine assets. Wade's eyes widened slightly in surprise as Tracy approached the table, her gaze meeting his. His mother, Mrs Angela, looked triumphant, clearly pleased with Tracy's grand entrance. "Isn't she beautiful, Wade?" Mrs Angela asked, her voice tinged with an air of assurance.