Mei X Miriam Novels & Stories

He queried at me "Hi..." I heard a female voice as she did come in interrupting at us "Hello Miriam, we've heard lots and lots of things about you, come take an hug my dear" A woman walk in the living room as she been in her late 50's or early 60's, walked in hugging at me, she held my hands as I smiled at her "I'm Melissa Louise, Liam's mum and I believe you must be Miriam Jones?" she asked at me

I tried to hold on! Hannah’s eyes rolled. Her smirk curved like poison on her lips. "Then hold on tighter. You want to be the wife of a Malcovich? Then act like one. Or do you want me to remind you how this family earned its name in power? We don’t cry, Miriam. We don’t beg. We drag. We destroy. We own." Miriam looked like a balloon losing air. Her arms fell to her sides and her fingers trembled. "What should I do?"

His brows furrowed, and I could tell he wanted to say something, but he waited for me to continue. “But,” I went on, my lips twitching slightly, “I wasn’t entirely alone. I had someone by my side just like you had Pa Yiwa. Her name is Miriam.” Miriam—my anchor, my safe place. She had been there through everything, from childhood scrapes to teenage heartbreaks. “Miriam, huh? The one who made your breakfast?” he asked, humming thoughtfully. I nodded. “She’s been with me since I was a kid. She raised me more than my own parents did.”

She was a puzzle that couldn’t be solved with brute force or charm alone. Miriam finally walked in, her sharp heels clicking against the tile floor. Her eyes scanned the café before landing on me, her expression guarded as always. She wore her typical look of cool detachment, but I knew better. Beneath that icy exterior, she was desperate. She wanted Spencer, and that made her useful to me. “Miriam,” I greeted, standing up and gesturing for her to sit. She slid into the seat across from me, crossing her legs as if she wasn’t in a hurry. But I could feel the tension in the air. The desperation.

“Did you… do something to Benjamin? Everyone knows your mother was banished for witchcraft.” “Go figure,” Rhea said darkly. “Exactly,” Isis added. “You won this battle. But we’ve already won the others. That’s life—you win some, lose some.” Miriam narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.” Rhea chuckled, voice like silk soaked in poison. “We don’t expect you to.” Isis stepped closer. “I have your heart,” she whispered to Miriam. “And my daughter… has hers.” she gestured towards Amber pointedly.

Neema said to me with a conspiratorial grin. I shook my head amused and followed her into the palace. “What's your name little one?” Neema asked. I was silent for a bit. I obviously couldn't tell her I was Arielle the fabled warrior princess of Gaham. She wouldn't believe me and would probably laugh. “I'm Marissa,” I said after a split second. Prefering to give her the alias I was originally supposed to use. “Fancy name is it. Your parents think they're lords or sumtin'. Giving a scrappy girl like you a name like that.

Who on Earth. ‘‘Boniswa!’’ quaked Miriam, ‘‘Boniswa, where are you, you silly girl, there’s a gentleman at the door! Let him in, let him in! And find Doctor Matiwane, for goodness sake, if he’s not gone out…’’ Fumbling at the knot of her apron, Miriam shuffled briskly into the kitchen, hanging the utilitarian cloth on a peg near the door. ‘‘Have you any idea who he is? Or where Liziwe is! Heavens, that child will be the death of me! And tea, Boniswa, tea!’’ The bell came again as the servant girl scurried between the door and Miriam, who stood flapping her hands and turning in circles, quite unsure of what to do first. ‘‘The door! Open the door, you turkey!’’ shrilled Miriam, rushing back to

She leaned closer, her ruined eyes locking onto ours. “She has been with Blackwater the longest,” Miriam whispered. “Embedded deep. Loved. Trusted.” The words hit harder than any weapon. My mind raced, pulling through every name, every face, every person who had stood beside me for years. Someone close. Someone central. Someone who had shaped this pack with me. “Who,” Kaye demanded. Miriam’s smile widened. “She is standing among you right now,” she said softly. “Waiting for the moment she has been building toward for years.”

Yet, as Elara would soon discover, that void was about to be filled in a way she had never expected. Later that evening, as Elara was closing up the gallery, the familiar sound of footsteps approached from behind. She turned to see Miriam, one of her most devoted patrons, walking in with a soft smile. Miriam had been a constant presence in Elara’s life for the past few years. She was an older woman, in her mid-sixties, with a kind face and a warmth that radiated from her like sunshine. Elara had always admired her for her wisdom and the gentle way she seemed to navigate the world. Miriam had become more than just a patron—she had become a friend.

Ignoring the boredom comment, I answered the important part. “Amelia.” It felt strange calling her that, but she was right. We needed to act more familiar. “Who’s Amelia?” Noah asked. Carter’s expression was pure disapproval. Hamilton looked curious. “Mrs. Nichols,” I told Noah. “Who?” I rolled my eyes. “My assistant, idiot.” “Jesus, Ry,” Carter said. “That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’re supposed to expand the business, not bankrupt us.” “I know. But she agreed.”