Motherless Brooklyn Novels & Stories

She wasn't there for a sister-in-law's approval; she was there to face the grandfather and reclaim the marriage certificate that represented her stolen freedom. As they stepped inside, her husband’s arm slid around her waist. Brooklyn’s breath hitched because it was the first time he had reached for her since they had registered their marriage. Her husband looked at his grandfather and said, “Grandpa, Mom, this is Brooklyn Rogers.” Ziva was momentarily taken aback by her sister-in-law’s beauty. Her best friend, Vivica, was a celebrated beauty, but Brooklyn’s beauty was on an entirely different level. Her mother-in-law, Ruby James, looked at her with disdain in her eyes and asked, “Is this ho

~Brooklyn's POV~ The salt-tanged wind whipped across my face as I stepped onto the gleaming deck of Habibi Armani's private yacht, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. I'd scraped together every penny from my grad school stipend to afford the designer dress clinging to my curves... a slinky black number that screamed 'ambitious' without begging for attention. But tonight, in the glittering harbor lights of Miami, I wasn't just Brooklyn the overworked psych major. I was Brooklyn the opportunist, ready to trade a little skin for a shot at the life I'd always craved.

"Your mommy doesn't want you anymore. Once she found out you weren't hers, she left you!" Luther's piercing eyes were trained on Ivana. He stared daggers at her and gripped her throat once more. "What do you mean? What nonsense are you spouting now?"

He was trying to keep his voice level, but I could hear the confusion and frustration seeping into his words. “Well just now for one. But I have been many times throughout my life. Every time that Hank beat me, or every time that something bad happened at school, she would call me to her and comfort me. When I was a baby, she brought me food, rocked me to sleep and took care of me. And she sang to me, a lullaby, oh Gunner it is the most beautiful song I have ever heard, and her voice is magnificent. Can you believe it? I had a mother this whole time! Gunner, I wasn’t alone, Selene, or mother as I called her, she was there” “Woah, woah, woah! Zee slow down! Are you telling me that the Moon Go

I gave Daisy a small wave and walked away without another word to him. I found the address from my confirmation email and double-checked it against the gate in front of me. A large, clean townhouse at the end of a quiet street. Way out of my neighbourhood. I rang the bell. The door opened almost immediately. A tall man in his forties, well-dressed, tired around the eyes. "You must be the new live-in nanny." "Yes, sir. I'm Brooklyn Lawson. I'm so sorry I'm late — " He held up one hand. "You're lucky my children aren't home from school yet. If they had been, this conversation would be going very differently."

"He's not the man you remember, Ella. He's older. Broken. He's spent thirty years punishing himself for mistakes that weren't entirely his fault." "That's not my problem." "No." Margaret's voice was soft. "But it might be your burden." --- Brooklyn was different from Manhattan. Slower. Quieter. The buildings were older, the streets narrower, the people less hurried. Ella had grown up here—not in this neighborhood, but close enough that the streets felt familiar. She'd walked these sidewalks as a child, holding her mother's hand, believing that her father was never coming back. Now she knew the truth. He'd been here all along. Hiding. Waiting. Too afraid to reach out, too ashamed to try.

This woman, wearing a pair of red-bottom heels, strutted past his secretary, Margaret, without permission, and entered Dean's office. Brooklyn enters a sleek, glass-walled office, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. He was seated at his large mahogany desk, overlooking the bustling cityscape. Dean was in a meeting, but her intense expression prompted him to dismiss everyone. "Dean Whitmore!" As Brooklyn stood in Dean’s office, the remnants of rage and heartbreak still crackled in her chest. It was uncanny how his phone suddenly vibrated on the desk. Dean glanced at the screen, his face shifting from controlled calm to alarm.

Emma stood outside Jake Morrison's apartment building on the Upper East Side, clutching her laptop bag and seriously questioning her life choices. The elegant brownstone with its wrought-iron details and perfectly manicured entrance screamed expensive the kind of place that came with doormen and marble lobbies and editors who could afford to take risks with their authors' careers.

Victor snapped, "None of your business!" "You argued with Mom, didn't you?" Leo set the basket down and raised his voice. "Did you come asking Mom for money again? Honestly, Victor, that's too much. Mom just got hospitalized, and all you care about is sucking her dry. You're such an ungrateful son!" "Drop the good-guy act!" Victor fumed. "What's wrong with me asking Mom for money for Molly's program fee? Spending on that makes more sense than blowing money on clothes and shoes like a bottomless pit!"

I really hope she bought that. Soon, Brayan the second oldest child in the mansion and the highest fartello. ×Madres personal handbag walks into the room. Brayan and I don't talk much. Brayan is a very silent person and I don't blame him. To get that much attention from Madre, you would have to pay a very heavy price. A price that can change ones entire being. A price I'm not willing to go explain now. He walks over to the bed and I watch him stare at Deborah for a few seconds.