Novel & Cerita Mrs Thornhill

I had thirty minutes to compose myself, to bury the memory of the mistake we’d made years ago, and prepare to face the man who now legally owned my body and held my son’s future in his hand. I stripped off the gown, my movements slow. I wasn’t Eveyln Reed, the struggling single mother, or the genius hacker 'Phantom.' I was Mrs. Thorne, the commodity. I chose a simple silk slip, pulling my hair into a loose, unstudied knot. My strategy was to be utterly compliant yet emotionally impenetrable. I couldn't afford to let him see the fear, or worse, the residual spark of chemistry that the simple pressure of his hand on my arm could ignite.

And perhaps most importantly, support. "Sarah," Mrs. Chen said, her voice carrying the kind of deference that suggested she knew better than to challenge the Whitmore matriarch directly. "We're simply concerned about the unusual activity at Thornwick Manor. Eleanor's death was hard enough without having to worry about strange goings-on at her property."

“You act like she’s perfect.” Mrs. Thompson shot her a sharp look. “Can’t you see the difference between her and Lilian?” she asked, her voice laced with pride. “Lily is everything Lilian was not. She’s educated, well-mannered, and respectful. She knows how to behave in public and takes care of Marcus—unlike Lilian, who was always a burden to the family.” Mrs. Thompson’s eyes softened as she spoke about Lily, her tone full of admiration. “Lily is a good housewife, and she’ll make Marcus happy. That’s why I’m glad things turned out the way they did.”

"It's like something out of a Jane Austen novel." Piper had to agree. She'd grown up in a small town outside of Boston and wasn't used to the elegance and splendor of many of the places she'd seen in London since she'd first arrived. Mr. Thorne had told them that this townhouse had been in his family a long time, and he had been living here until recently. Thorne's grandson was American and lived on the Gold Coast of Long Island, but he owned properties all over the world. Mr. Thorne was moving to America soon to spend more time with his grandson and his fianc¨¦e. It was so sweet.

Everything in the room spoke of care and love—memories embedded in every object—but the gentle decay whispered that it had been years since anyone had dared to touch a thing. I stepped further inside, my eyes tracing the patterns of the rug underfoot, its fibers fraying just enough to hint at age, and my fingers twitched at the thought of restoring it without erasing its story. A lady appeared from down the hallway, her hand clamped behind her back immediately she saw us. "Mr Thorne, you're welcome." She greeted him before greeting us as well. "Where's Mrs Thorne?" Rapheal asked. "She's in the backyard, I'll get her immediately."

But before I could get a word in or prepare my defenses, the door opened wider, and someone stepped in behind him. I froze. It was Mr. Thornhill. He didn’t need an introduction. His presence spoke louder than any title or name. The sharp angles of his face, the calculating gaze, the way he moved as if he owned not just the room but the entire world—he commanded attention. My stomach twisted. “Did he hear everything?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible. My palms started to sweat, and I quickly looked down, avoiding his piercing eyes. “Oh no, Marrissa, things just got a hundred times more complicated,” my inner voice muttered.

The face and prestige of the Thorne family were known throughout the city and beyond. After enquiring at the reception, he was directed to Jessica Willows, who had been sent in in the early hours of the morning. Getting there, Ann was seated there, worry and concern etching every corner of her face. But they were both unfamiliar to themselves. Except that Ann recognized Liam Thorne of the Thornes. “... Excuse me. Is this the ward for Jessica Willows?” He asked firmly. “... Yes.” She replied curtly. Liam, without waiting another Second, swung the door open.

"I'm accustomed to addressing Master as 'sir' or 'my husband' around others. I'm sure I'll do fine." We went to the house and I told everyone that Mrs. Thornhill was joining us for the day. She wanted to see the progress we'd made and see how the men worked and if they kept busy or wasted her husband's money. She smiled politely at them as I went through the introductions.

"Tell me about her. What is the new Mrs. Hunt like?" Shauna rolled her eyes, shedding her professional restraint. "She is a nightmare, Ma'am. She marches into the estate wearing these bright, flashy designer gowns, demanding everyone stop what they are doing to serve her. She yells at the kitchen staff if her water is not cold enough. She treats the drivers like they are dirt beneath her shoes." Grandma Mabel set her teacup down. The porcelain clicked sharply against the saucer. "Go on," she urged quietly.

She threw me a short glance and I could feel the air in my lungs suddenly disappear. Aunt Darla looked out at the crowd of researchers and her smile widened as she adjusted her glasses. “To everyone’s surprise, the winning duo is Dr. Alicia Grey and Jade Vermont,” she announced, and the room went completely silent for a second before it exploded into a loud and energetic standing ovation.