Millie Lancaster Novels & Stories

Both my grandmother and my mother had been teen moms, and I had only barely escaped that fate by getting pregnant at twenty-one. “It will be just like my dolls.” She answered dreamily. She held me with her one hand, but her other hand had been dragging her doll along all day. She never let go of it. I forced myself not to laugh out loud. This was just kids talk. It would be fine. “Sorry Clara, Miss Melanie wasn’t specific enough,” I said to her as we walked down the gallery to our apartment. “You need to have a boyfriend or husband, and you need to be over twenty years old.”

The dance floor had gone from glittering to grim. At 8:45 a.m., the elevator chimed. She stepped out, hair pulled back in a bun. No heels. No shimmer. Just a plain black hoodie, jeans, and a tote bag that looked like it had been through a few things. Millie “Millie” Foster. Twenty-five. She was the kind of woman who knew that behind every “fun night” was a morning like this one. Broken glass. Sticky floors. Her eyes scanned the room like a detective at a crime scene. She took it all in, one disaster at a time. She headed straight for the kitchen. Priorities. Dishes clattered like bones. She moved with the rhythm of someone who didn’t need praise, just progress.

Milly says I nod and we walk out to our trucks. I unlock the doors and Lance gets in the passenger seat and everyone else piles in the back or with Buck and Milly. I pull out of the gate and turn on the radio Animals was playing. I smile and start bobbing my head and singing along. We pull up to a red light and Buck revs his truck at me. I smirk and rev mine and it rumbles loudly. Buck's smirk drops and the light turns green and I step on the gas and shoot forward leaving him behind. I pull up to the grounds and I grin. I park and Lance hops out and comes around opening my door. I step onto the side bar and he grabs my waist lowering me to the ground. We walk hand and hand over to sign me up

The doctor lubricated her finger and looked at her first. "Is there anything you would like me to know, Miss Carter?" The doctor asked her before checking her. Mila was scared. "I have not been touched, but I have touched myself. I do not know if it counts," She replied. The doctor laughed at her naivety. The doctor wrote it down and let her dress up, then went to call Vincent in. Mila backed him, scared of what he was going to do to her. "She is a virgin sir, she has confirmed it by herself," She told him.

"Hey! It's nice to put a face to the name. I'm Peggy. Peggy Anderson. My mom is Felicity, the..." "I know whom your mom is." I interjected. "It's really wonderful to meet you too Peggy. I'm Camilla Monteiro, but feel free to call me Mila." I grinned, and she winked. "I'm in love with her already Carter." Peggy piped. "There you have it! Your company." Carter gave a toothy grin. "I was already informed about that one. Chop chop! off you go then." "Away with me, then" He added. "But before that, when did you get here" He directed his question at Peggy.

She then added, "Also, I have another identity—I'm Pierce's ex-wife. If you dare to cut my face, I'll make sure the Searle family kicks you out!" Millie raised her head and looked at Felicity with unwavering defiance. She wasn't just some nameless nobody. She had a prominent identity, though perhaps it seemed insignificant compared to these high-society elite ladies. But that didn't mean she was completely powerless. She was a renowned international designer who was touted to be gifted with unparalleled talent. Countless prestigious brands had expressed an interest in working with her. If Felicity was adamant about ruining her, Millie would make sure that she returned the favor and destroyed

and noted the soppy look he got on his face when he looked over at Millie and Gabriel. “Well, first of all, Millie saved my sister Lucy - that’s her with the cascade of blonde hair sitting on the piano stool with our other daughter Jessica -from drowning off the beach in Cawlin, where we have a house. She disappeared almost immediately, and then, as if by magic, she came to the band’s Christmas party. We never let her go after that. She turned her hand to looking after the house for us and here we are, married with six-month-old twins, another two daughters and my sister. We all live together. But marrying Millie was the best thing Gabe, and I ever did. She’s amazing.”

Winston and Lindy exchanged bewildered glances, leading Millie to believe that the two were complete strangers to one another. "Hi there, I'm Lindy Elkins, Milie's classmate from university," Lindy greeted warmly. Winston nodded and turned his attention to Millie. This time, he wouldn't involve any of Millie's female friends. It felt pointless and unnecessary. He decided to concentrate solely on Millie. Lindy remained unfazed by Winston's indifference. The atmosphere remained the same. She turned to Millie and asked, "How are you? Are you okay?" "I'm fine. I took some hangover remedy and feel better now," Millie said, pursing her lips. She was confident the medicine she had developed would w

The New York night was freezing, and the thin cashmere I wore was no defense against the December cold. Within minutes, I was shivering uncontrollably. I had nowhere to go for warmth, forced to stand outside the iron gates of the estate like an abandoned beggar. Through the heavy iron bars, I could see the warm, spring-like light of the living room. A woman in a designer evening gown descended the spiral staircase, moving as if she owned the place as she approached Luca. When she saw me freezing outside the gate, a cold, triumphant smirk crossed her lips. I recognized her. Millie. A bombshell poached from a high-end Manhattan strip club, with hair like spun gold and eyes the color of a turqu

I whisper, “I just want you to be safe… and no more old guys until you’re 18.” She giggles, “Lacrosse boy is only 18.” “I haven’t heard the best things about lacrosse guys… but I’m sure he’s decent, if you say he is,” I finish. Some girl snickers behind us. I, being a little paranoid, turn to see if we’re the object of her amusement, and to my surprise, I’m correct. Sarah’s evil twin, Miley Campbell, is pointing at us and laughing behind a kiosk near the store’s entrance.