Mrs Thornhill Novels & Stories

"What's the point of obsessing over some random girl who vaguely resembles her?" "What do you mean she's not in town?" I demanded. Vincent turned back to face me. "You don't know the gist?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "What gist?" "Remember Uncle Dorian's first wife?" Vincent prompted. "Miss Ivy?" I replied, searching my memory. "Yeah, more like Mrs. Roth now," Vincent corrected. "She came back and claimed everything. There was even a court order that declared she's the real Mrs. Roth and made Chelley's marriage illegal."

Marlowe Ashcroft, once heir apparent to Ashcroft Holdings, has spent three years as Thorne Calloway's wife poised, graceful, and quietly disappearing. We see her isolated at Calloway Hall, gently corrected by her husband and sister in front of others, already unsure of her own memory. Readers meet Beatrix as the picture of a doting mother-in-law, disarming any suspicion. A small, easy-to-miss detail is planted here: Marlowe's nightly tea, always prepared exactly the same way, always by the same hand.

We arrived at Thornwood's capital after nearly two weeks of careful travel, the ancient stone spires appearing exactly as I remembered from my previous visit years earlier, though considerably more elaborate ceremonial preparation greeted our arrival this time, Sovereign Thorne himself, now visibly aged and considerably more frail than the calculating political figure I'd first encountered, waiting personally at the palace entrance alongside his daughter, a composed woman who introduced herself as Lady Miriam Thorne, and her own small daughter, Princess Wren Thorne. The younger Wren appeared perhaps a year older than my own daughter, with the same dark hair and pale gray eyes I remembered fr

Dominic’s hand tightened around mine and his pulse was a frantic and steady thrum against my palm as he surveyed the intrusion. The foyer was filled with the scent of lilies and expensive floor wax which was a sharp departure from the salty air and lemon groves we had left behind. I stepped into the house and felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the twins and everything to do with the woman sitting in the drawing room. Eleanor Thorne was perched on a velvet armchair that had been moved from its original place near the window to a position of central authority in the middle of the room.

I opened it slightly and saw two maids standing in the corner. “I heard someone from Pelligrini came again today,” one of the maids said. “What did he want?” the other one asked. “The maggiordomo told him he has no answer for him yet.” “What kind of an answer?” “I heard that Don Pelligrini offered Mr. Thorne an alliance.” The other one snickered. “Then it looks like there might be a change of Mrs. Thorne soon.” “Shut up, idiot!” The first one grabbed the other one's arm, guiding her to the stairs. “You shouldn't say such things so loud.” A moment later, they were gone.

"Well Anna ended up with child, I hazed her to find out if the child was mine and to my surprise, she was truthful. Let's be honest. Why would your eyes wander to another, when I'm your husband. She had my son but died in childbirth. Despite your objections to having my child. I am a good father. I raised Michael on my own, well he had a governess. Did I mention my wife was a countess?" A snarl escapes my lip "I became Count Thorne. Isn't that hilarious. I stayed with Michael throughout his life. He lived to have a family of his own and the same thing happened to his wife. She died in childbirth. I didn't get to see the next generation, thanks to you" I am stunned in place by his revelation.

Suddenly, the bedroom door was thrown wide open. Not by one of the security guards, but by a middle-aged woman dressed in expensive haute couture, whose icy gaze seemed capable of freezing even a waterfall. Eleanor Thorne. Mavric’s mother, who had vanished abroad after the previous scandals, had returned with an air of arrogance more pronounced than ever before. “Enough of this cheap romantic drama!” Eleanor shouted angrily. “The cathedral lies in ruins, our family’s reputation is hanging by a thread, and yet you still stand here embracing this jinxed girl?”

Vivienne managed to slip outside, climbed the concrete stairs with short, hurried breaths, then immediately searched for a taxi on the hillside road to take her back to the Thorne clan residence. After an hour on the city roads, the taxi carrying Vivienne finally stopped in the courtyard of the Thorne mansion. With steps that still felt slightly weak but were forced to move quickly, Vivienne rushed through the front entrance. "Queen Madam!" the Thorne clan's head housekeeper cried out, immediately running frantically from the direction of the kitchen the moment he caught sight of his mistress's silhouette. The old servant's face was extraordinarily pale, with cold sweat covering his temples.

My heart sank as I turned to see Dalton, standing just a few feet away, grinning like he’d stumbled upon some great discovery. But there was more. I heard other voices too, voices I hoped wouldn’t belong to certain people. I silently begged the universe that it was just Dalton, but as I turned fully, my worst fears were confirmed. All the people I didn’t want to see were there. “Miss Thornhill,” Matilda said with a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her voice was pleasant, her demeanor affectionate, but I knew better. I hadn’t truly hated Matilda until she revealed her true colors. She was one of those privileged, sheltered types—what you might call a greenhouse flower. Raised wit

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Roy grinning back at her. Anna’s a very pretty girl. She has long auburn hair that’s always perfectly styled in big, cascading waves, and she wears a full face of perfect, sophisticated makeup every day. “Mr. Roy, you can go right ahead,” she says, pointing down the hall. “The team is waiting for you in the conference room. Miss Thornhill, please come with me.” Roy looks at me and shrugs. “I’ll meet you at the car when I’m done,” he says over his shoulder as he walks away.