Mrs Mellark Novels & Stories

“Well, almost everyone who works in there had noticed something fishy about that man. All of us were rather uncomfortable with him so it didn’t really cause raise eyebrows that Miss Willow wasn’t comfortable either. I wonder if he kidnapped her. That guy must have been threatening Miss Willow. I’m going back there.” After speaking, Marlene tossed her soda bottle into a trash can and started walking the path that led to the pack house. “Wow,” I can’t believe it. We were still standing there when a woman with housekeeping uniform stopped nearby. We all turned to her, hoping she had some new information to tell us. “Who is Cilla Markle?” she asked. “What do you want from her?” Maryanne asked de

Christine replied. Christine and Felix took a sip of their drinks to pause, before resuming their serious conversation. "Oh yes, Alicia, I want to tell you something. Your mother, Mrs. Michelle has a personal secretary, she is Anna Parker, a secretary recruited from an agency called Star Corporation. Technically, your mother and I are closer to the company. But with Anna, Madame Michelle seemed to have a close relationship outside of work. Perhaps because Anna is younger and articulate, she can easily adapt."

Arabella smiled trying not to bite her lower lip as Bill was non-stop playing with her under the table. “This is Mr. Maurer. Head of Finance Department.” Mrs. Devi introduced the man beside her. Seeing Bill’s eyes, Mr. Maurer just nodded politely and didn’t dare to shake Arabella’s hand same with the other men while women department heads could shake Arabella’s hand. “This is Mrs. Hailey. She’s the head of our Marketing.” Mrs. Devi continued. Arabella shook Mrs. Hailey’s hand when she accidentally squeezed it hard. “Are you okay, Mrs. Sky?” The woman in her 50s, Mrs. Hailey, asked worriedly.

That day was Ann's first day in the Marketing division, where Merry Smith served as Chief Marketing Officer. Ann purposely wore bright red clothes to attract attention. She wore bright red high heels and applied bright red lipstick. Since Ann had already expected Merry Smith to call her the devil woman, she might as well prepare herself.

Molly replied while glancing around to look for any sign of Rayan. “Yeah maybe.” Lily nodded with a sigh. Molly was about to walk away with the tray of glasses when a middle-aged woman walked towards them. Molly instantly recognized her as the person in charge of the food. Her name was Martha, and she was one of the strictest and meanest maids she had come across.

I would have hated it if she didn’t like me. Mrs. Lachlan's discerning eye didn't miss a beat as she surveyed the array of plain wedding dresses before us. With a gentle yet assertive tone, she said, "Mary deserves to wear something truly beautiful on her special day. This doesn’t suit her." "My mother agrees," I interjected before my mother said something rude that would make Mrs. Lachlan feel like I am their adopted child, "but Mr. McKinnon said no. He doesn't want my wedding to outshine his son's, so he sent this woman to show the dresses that he has accepted."

He winks at me before giving the loudest clap. At that point, I knew it was me, everything was now falling into place. Well, certainly I didn't know how to react to that, but something in me pushed me to wave, and I did. Surprisingly, it works. After a few more rounds of applause, Sir Mark calms the Hall by clearing his throat. “Listen up everyone,” ahh there he goes again, I hated public speech. He better not call me to talk here. “This is Mrs. Helen, you all know about that, she is the head model in one of the most fast-rising modeling companies in Texas. In addition to her accolades, she married my friend and boss Lucas Dowell, the CEO of Triple Friends Group of companies “

The teacher arrived shortly after, an older woman named Mrs. Rae who was known for being both fair and too tired to deal with teenage drama. She glanced around the room, took attendance without so much as commenting on Ava’s absence, and started her lecture on pack law with her usual dry tone.

“Send them in.” Ezra steps aside, and a woman in a sharply tailored pantsuit enters. She’s middle-aged, with steel-gray hair cut in a severe bob and rectangular glasses perched on her nose. I suppress a sigh at the sight of her. Marjorie Falks. She’s been in my office before—always with some complaint or another, and never on good terms. As far as humanitarian society representatives go, she’s awfully militant and, dare I say, rude. Even in the blistering heat of the last day of summer today, she looks as cold as ever.

There were no surveillance cameras inside the conference room. Millie slipped off her designer stilettos and walked directly over to Marilyn. Marilyn was trembling violently. "Mrs. Keller, please let me explain. This is all a misunderstanding—" Millie grabbed a fistful of Marilyn's hair, dragging her out of her wheelchair. "A misunderstanding? Who do you think you are to use me as your pawn?"