Mr Queen Novels & Stories

I nodded, “Yes, I can!” His eyes were gleaming. “QEEN, my idol, is almost god-like. I thought he was a man, but recently I heard he was a woman from the game, but women rarely play games so well like her, so I am not sure. But I still hope that QEEN is a woman…” Mark blushed at this point. He stretched his head. “If she is a woman, what would she look like?” I looked at him and blinked my eyes, thinking, ‘He doesn’t like QEEN, does he?”

I threw the door of the warehouse open and everyone inside got up pointing guns at me. "What the fuck?". "Where's MJ?", j asked calmly. Alex followed me, he said he didn't want me going alone and it was too dangerous. But I just think he wants to tag along, and I low-key enjoy his company. "That ain't the important thing, the question is, who are you and how dare you barge into our territory!" one of them barked. I scoffed, Dogs. "I'm the Queen, and you have one of my boys, MJ, I want him released as soon as possible", I stated.

Chapter One Hundred And Fifty Six The cheering and applause continued as the queen mounted the platform and walked towards the MC. She was a woman in her mid-forties, but looked very much like someone in her twenties. She was elegantly dressed in a white, fashionable frock. She carried herself with a regal air, and even from across the room, she exuded power and authority. The MC handed the microphone over to the queen, and stepped back respectfully. "Thank you so much for joining me in this wonderful event tonight." Queen Elena began, "It is with great joy that I am able to..."

Zayne asked as I got off the seat. " Yeah, that's exactly what I did... Oh Zayne, I'll keep you updated." I shot a smile at him and put my sun shades back and drove back to the supermarket to get goodies. Afterwards I drove to a different side of town and parked in front of the large mansion owned by the most popular billionaire in the city. I rang the doorbell holding a bunch of gifts and presents and wearing a broad smile on my face, as the door flew open, I was greeted by Michelle, William's mother, except she had a very surprised look on her face.

Reina chuckled and replied, "Pfft, then you're more than welcome to my home, kiddo." Amber's face lit up with excitement, and she skipped ahead to join Lana and Kyle, who had already finished dressing up. Lana, dressed in a deep green formal dress with a square neckline, spaghetti straps with a beaded tassel and high slit, turned towards Reina and did a twirl. "Pleased to meet you, Ashlyn Woods. I'm Lana Mactokins from the Rosian organization." Amber couldn't contain her excitement and commented, "Purr slayyyy!"

Mr Smith had travelled all the way to Monterio and waited days for an appointment with me just to introduce me to my dear ex husband as a potential client. How ironic. Things were getting more interesting. “Wha…what? She is a nominee? How come no one has ever heard of her!” Tina shrieked, now sweating as her makeup began to run. “Well, because she is the legendary Queen behind the collections that have been trending for the past seven years!” Mr Smith revealed as whispers filled the hall again. “That is…that is not possible. She…” Tina paused. Then her mind went back to the only Queen she knew.

She was in a dark riding habit, her whip tapping rhythmically against her thigh. "Does he have them, Doctor?" Charlotte’s voice was a whip-crack in the quiet. "He does." Daniel patted his pocket. "And I have the diagnosis you requested. The 'Queen' suffers from a corruption of the flesh. A hidden blight. It’s why the womb remains barren." "A blight?" Charlotte walked a slow circle around Noah, her eyes fixed on the gold collar. "How very tragic. The King must be devastated. A corruption like that... it requires a public cleansing, doesn't it?"

Against all odds. But holding is not the same as winning. And eventually, they could not hold anymore. I turned the page. And found a portrait. Just a sketch, really. Pen and ink. Faded with age. A woman. She was not young in the portrait, but she was not old either. She was somewhere in between, in that particular place where a person stops looking like what they were and starts looking like what they are. Her hair was loose. Her expression was not afraid. Mira. Last Queen of the Witch Covens. Keeper of the High Flame. Killed in the forty-third year of the Crimson War by Aldric the Elder, great-great-grandfather of the current Alpha King.

The Queen posted—first time in five years! [The Queen is back, everyone!] [Crest? As in Crest Finance? She’s spoken—buy now!] Notifications ticked into the thousands. Mirena stared at the screen for a long moment, then locked her phone and exhaled slowly. Approval washed over her—not pride, not relief, but certainty. Then, she glanced down at the box by her feet and sighed. “Poor thing,” she murmured. “You died in vain.” Bending down, she picked it up carefully.

BRONX CHUBBY QUEEN MATERNITY CLINIC — SIZE 10-28 — BRONX PRICE FOREVER — $15 CO-PAY — QUEEN OWNER ISABELLA DE LUCA 140 women waiting. All in crop tops. All bellies. They saw me get out of the Bentley in my cut green top, belly out, 15 weeks, size 16 getting to 18. They screamed. "QUEEN! Mango bigger!" Mrs. Johnson was live on T****k. 100 million viewers yesterday, today 110 million. "Look! Real pregnancy! No filter! Size 16 and 15 weeks! Belly hard! Still crop top!" I walked inside. The pink rug was soft. The mirror reflected me — bigger than yesterday, softer than yesterday, harder belly than yesterday.