Nora Mercer Novels & Stories

Nora asked, rushing up to my bed. Nora wore a loose-fitting pink dress that fell past her knees, along with a pair of black shoes. She was carrying a brown bag and wearing a pair of brown slippers. She had packed her long brown hair into a ponytail. She was a thick, brown-skinned girl of seventeen. "Nora," I wiped off my tears, my heart aching painfully after learning that Alpha Xander and Quincy had been intimate. "What's wrong, Aurora? Speak to me," Nora asked, taking a step forward to meet me on the bed. But I wiped off my tears with a tissue.

Her hand caressed her bulging belly. Nora took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. All this time, Nora had been raised in an orphanage. However, her late grandparents had left her a large piece of farmland in a remote village far from the capital. "This card..." Nora took the card and put it in her bag, planning to return it the next day. As soon as she left the private room, Nora went to the nearest bathroom to pee and fix her makeup. She was sure that her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

She was surprised at the revelation. Rebecca shook her head and wore a smile. "My father isn't part of the nobles. He is a fisherman and my mother, a housewife. Life wasn't easy for us. We all had to do our part. Let me let you in on a little secret." She said frankly. Zita listened keenly to her. "I once worked as a maid in the palace." She added. Zita had her hand over her mouth and gasped. "My mistress, a maid?"

“Yes, the same one. Our companies are partnering on a significant project soon.Today’s meeting will iron out the final terms.” Mila’s face lit up with genuine delight. Jocelyn Mercer had been her ultimate role model since the day she entered the industry. Renowned for her groundbreaking sustainable designs, her ability to blend modern minimalism with cultural depth, and her fierce advocacy for women in creative leadership, Jocelyn represented everything Mila aspired to become—talented, visionary, and unapologetically strong. Her projects weren’t just beautiful; they told stories, creating spaces that truly transformed lives.

Jeremy’s POV I was going through the list of recruiters when I came across her name. ‘Nora Miller,’ I met her mother at the gambling den a few weeks ago. She was in a lot of debt and they were going to beat her to a pup. **Flashback to three weeks ago**

Theo’s POV I had spent most of the morning pretending that the previous night had not changed anything. It was easier to focus on the documents scattered across my desk than to think about Nora standing in front of Ivy, refusing to be intimidated by the woman who had made her life miserable. Nora had always possessed a stubborn streak, but lately, I had begun to see something beneath it. She was not simply fighting because she wanted revenge. She was fighting because she had spent too long allowing other people to decide what she deserved.

"But I do not know how we get inside." There was a short silence. Then a small voice came from the very end of the table. "I do." Everyone turned. Nora was sitting at the corner with her hands folded on the table. Her face was pink. Her eyes were very big. "Delane called me too," she said. "Last week. They offered me a job. An assistant in their design department. More money than here. A lot more." She looked down at her hands. "I said I would think about it. I did not tell anyone because I was embarrassed. I needed the money for my mom's rent. For one whole day, I thought about saying yes."

a quiet, steady voice spoke up from the doorway. Sophia Lang stood at the entrance of the conservatory, her coat draped over her arm, her secure phone held in her right hand. Beside her stood Nora Hawthorne, twenty-four years old, her clear amber eyes fixed on the streaming feed of her uncle in Zurich. Unlike the rest of her family, Nora wore no corporate armor. In her dark green silk blouse, she stood with a quiet, fierce posture—a woman who spent her life watching Victor use her safety as psychological leverage over Elias. She was quietly furious at the toxic legacy of the Hawthorne name, but standing beside Sophia, her presence was unshakeable.

"I did books for this family for thirty years before I retired. Long enough to know which numbers weren't supposed to add up, and long enough to be quiet about it until quiet stopped feeling like loyalty and started feeling like guilt." "Harrison Mercer's network," Merlin said. "That is what we are calling it, for lack of a better name." "It doesn't have a name because a name is a thing you can be arrested for owning." Dana's eyes flicked once toward the window, then back to him. "We don't meet like this, normally. I am only here because Nora is one of ours, and because Harrison asked me, personally, years ago, to be the person who steps in if he ever couldn't."

She remained quiet head bowed, looking at her feet. "Impossible, you love that Demon you keep painting all these years?" Norcia said, in bewilderment. Theodora couldn't talk anything. She know-how it would look to others. Loving an imaginary man whom she is painting looks like stupidity. "You do realize how foolish it is looking from my point of view, don't you?" Norcia asked her a little angry. "I do" Theodora answered softly. His anger disappeared at her softly spoken words.