Millicent Library Novels & Stories

Now I’m face to face with the orange haired girl. “Hi! I’m Millicent.” She beamed at me while offering her hand. I always associate myself with the word ‘simple’ since that’s how I feel with the way I dress up and color my face. But this Millicent girl… she’s definitely on another level of ‘simple’. I don’t see any trace of make-up on her face, not even a lip balm to color her pale lips. Some girls are insecure with their freckles but Millicent just let them clearly visible on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Nevertheless, she’s still pretty as heck!

He’d frantically found some medicine to put on the wound, torn strips from his own clothes to bandage me, so incredibly gentle. I turned, looking for a place to lie down, and saw the discarded mug in the corner. Eric had bought it for me after seeing me admiring it in a shop window. He’d said I wouldn’t have to drink cheap, awful instant coffee anymore. Now the mug was as broken as the warm words he’d spoken, covered in dust, useless. Just like our brief warmth had been crushed by reality, leaving no trace behind. My eyes burned, but no tears came. My heart was numb, like a block of ice.

Millicent asks. "I'll be fine." "That's not an answer." He doesn't have a better one. None of us do. One day, Millicent gets confronted at the grocery store. She tells us about it that evening, her voice carefully even, her hands not quite steady. She's sitting at the kitchen island, a glass of wine untouched in front of her, and she tells the story like she's reading from a script. "I was in the produce section. This woman, I'd never seen her before, walked right up to me and called me a deviant. She said I was corrupting my child and destroying the fabric of society. She got louder and louder until the manager came to escort her out."

She couldn’t possibly be expecting me to answer that question, could she? She came closer to me, and our noses were almost touching as she sized me up with her eyes. I was looking down at my feet, and she lifted my chin with her hands and looked me directly in the eyes. “It indeed is strange. There’s nothing spectacular about you, and he’s doing everything he can do for you. I bet he was confused the moment he saw you dressed so beautifully at the auction, and it is up to me to remind him that you are nothing more than a slave; and you share the same blood with those who caused his father’s breath to cease at the young age of forty-five,” Lady Millicent said.

She payed her fare before clutching her bag tightly towards herself as her neck craned up to stare up at the massive tall building in front of her. Her eyes were quick to read the giant name built on the glass walls of the massive tall building. MILLER INC. A bolt of fast lightning past through her quickly and she took a few steps back and almost fell because of her heels but managed to balance herself just in time. She blinked and blinked again. The name Miller was sure to bring back so many memories. And, Adam appeared before her eyes once again. Adam's last name was also miller and this could be only a mere coincidence but it did take her by surprise. She hadn't even bothered to look into

' she asked. 'Well, why don't you tell me if you have any special person and I'll see how I can get them for you', she said. 'Loneliness is a language I understand. I have understood it for a long time. But now, I am believing, it will get better!' Millicent said trying to encourage her to speak. 'How can you get him for me when you might get angry when you know who the person is?' she asked 'Provided he is not Alpha Christopher, then you are welcome to any other!' Millicent promised.

[Millicent] People always say, "Can you remember when the problem started?" I'd like to say, "Yes, Sir. You see there was this one moment where everything went wrong..." But I cannot. I don't even know who I am. I was not born Millicent Walker. That name was gifted to me when I showed up in the village of Crimson, covered in bruises, burns, and blood. I have no parents, no family, and no memory of my life before the age of seven, or however old I am--nobody is quite sure. My strange gold hair and hazel eyes made it obvious to those who first met me on the dusty road from the East that I wasn't from anywhere near the town of Crimson, or anywhere else along the Emerald Shore where the locals w

I inquired, keeping up with Luca's pace. "Milady," Luca said as he slowed down his walk. "That's what Mr. Etienne told us to call you." "I see..." I mumbled quietly. Luca abruptly came to a halt in front of a large door. It was significantly larger than us. As if they were castle doors. Luca used both of his hands to open the door, revealing what was inside. We appear to have arrived in the living room. The living room is large and bright, with paintings on the walls and a chandelier on the ceiling. Every aspect of the living room left me speechless. As a piece of classical music began to play from an old cd player, I went inside.

Not because I had seen it before. Because I knew who it belonged to. Millicent Whitmore. Adrian watched me. “What is it?” I didn’t answer immediately. The words sat there. Cold. Impossible. Subject: Millicent Whitmore containment arrangement. A strange silence filled the room. Someone had not been protecting Milly. Someone had been controlling her. Adrian lowered his voice. “Declan.” I looked at him. “She may not understand what she’s involved in.” That was the first time I said it out loud.