Millicent Library Novels & Stories

Dallas swallowed. “Uh… Thank you.” Millicent responded, touched by her gesture, although she didn't really understand what she meant "I'm sure the Council will make the best decision for all of us." With one last awkward farewell, Millicent moved toward the door, though her feet were making her unnecessarily slow. Throughout the morning, she had found thousands of things to keep herself busy and procrastinate as much as possible until meeting time with the executives, but now she had nowhere else to run. She had spent the night awake trying to force herself to not care about what was happening, but…

It took some effort before the board lifted with a slow, echoing creak. Underneath was a dark, hollow space. The damp, dusty smell rose instantly. I reached inside, fingers finding something stiff, with frayed edges. Pulling it free sent a cloud of dust swirling into my face, making me cough. A book. Its cover was pure black, the surface cracked like old skin. In the center was an embossed silver emblem of a thorn crown, the shine long faded. At the lower corner was a name: Millicent Whitmore. Mrs. Whitmore. The name made my spine tighten. The woman who, according to village whispers, once worked for the Blackwell family… and vanished decades ago.

"A hundred million. Take it, leave my son Eric, and never come back." Luna Anya stood at the entrance of Dark Moon Manor, looking down at me, her eyes cold and full of disgust. Before, I would've burst into tears, shaking, begging, "I'm not with him for the money!" But now, I just lowered my head and said quietly, "Okay." She froze for a second, then sneered, "You pathetic Omega. At least you know your place."

After a thorough body search and an extensive elaboration of what a dangerous criminal Millicent was, I was allowed one hour in a private room with her. I recoiled the moment I met her eyes, she looked awfully terrible, skin so flaked and dry, her face looking greyish—papery, her lips cracked, hair stripped of life. She was a shadow of whatever she’d once been. Taking a wide berth, I sank into the seat opposite her. “Millicent, I need your help.” My voice was low and soft, hopefully there was a soul in her heartless body. “The Almighty Jack McCullen needs my help? With what? There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Her eyes — those eyes I’d once thought belonged to a harmless girl were now rimmed red, pupils too wide, sporting red veins that crisscrossed the white of them. She smiled slowly, teeth crooked. “Millicent,” I said carefully, keeping my tone level. “You don’t have to do this.” “Oh, don’t I?” she laughed, crouching down so that we were face to face. The tip of the blade hovered just beneath my chin. “You think I didn't know what I was doing when I infiltrated the household of one of the most powerful men in London and set it ablaze just to get you here, tied to a chair beneath me?”

Max declared and started packing the files. Mila entered the royal library. It wasn't as she had pictured it to be. She had imagined it was going to be something small with few books as the history of this pack isn't going to be something really big. She had expected to see little or no space for reading tables. Maybe she had underestimated the pack's wealth a little bit.

she says suddenly. Noah and I exchange a wide eyed look, as if confirming with each other that we really heard the same thing. We did. Millicent just said her mate was human. “That’s how I got the Cashmere. And the reason I freaked out yesterday. I sent you a text after your barrage of texts, and you didn’t respond. I thought you backed out and had to find you this morning.” she explains, pointing her head in our direction, as if to say that’s how it ended up like this.

The library was on the next floor, a single large room with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books and documents. "Milicent spent hours down here," Henry said, his voice distant. "She was always reading. Always researching. I never understood why." "Because she was trying to understand what killed her family." I moved along the shelves, scanning titles. Most were in Lenorian, but I could read that now. "Where are the historical records? The family documents?" "Back corner. The locked cabinet." I found it. Heavy wood, iron lock. "Open it." Henry pulled a key from a hidden drawer and unlocked the cabinet. Inside were leather-bound journals, loose papers tied with string, and several thick

A thousand times yes. At the same time, Michelle and Millie were working on something significant, too. In Michelle's architectural studio, the energy was vibrant. The team buzzed with creativity as Michelle and Millie led a project: a community library and wellness center downtown. It was their biggest project yet—both in size and importance. Millie stood by a large blueprint, tapping her pen on the board. If we move this part outward, we can add a skylight that fills the reading area with natural light.

‘Yes, madam,’ she replied in a tone barely respectful. ‘Millicent, while you are waiting, read that.’ She turned the copy of she had been reading, on its head and pushed it across the table, scattering her breakfast crockery and nearly tipping the milk jug over. I rescued the milk and then studied the open pages for some time. I couldn’t concentrate. What was I supposed to be reading? ‘You’ve lost me. It’s mainly ads for high-class plant nurseries, horse tackle and nanny agencies.’