Priscilla Spelling Novels & Stories

Priscilla doesn't scream, she just shuts her eyes and bites her bottom lip holding it in. “I'm sorry godmother” she apologises and i'm left dumbfounded. “I believe it won't happen again” godmother answers and turned to leave. “You can't do… ” Priscilla drags my hand and I sit back in the chair and I look at her. “What was that?” Godmother asks and Priscilla gently shakes her head. “Thought as much” with that godmother walks out. “Oh my… ” “Shhh…just keep quiet” another girl whisper yells.

I introduced them. “Ex wife.” She corrected, forcing a grimace to my face. “It's nice to meet you, Mr Thompson, I'm Priscilla.” She said and they shook hands. Mr Thompson and I got distracted with some talks while Priscilla took a glass of champagne from the waiter. Within a few minutes, I had almost the entire party crowd, both male and female, swooping around me. Something told me this was more about Priscilla than it was about me but I remained calm.

Third Person's POV Priscilla's nose was already beaded with fine sweat, and with a "thud," she knelt on the ground, "Mr. Madox, Mrs. Madox, spare my life, please. I was just confused for a moment! Someone contacted me, offering me two hundred thousand to observe whether Mr. Madox is disabled, and I was bewitched." Brent conducted a search and retrieved Priscilla's phone, handing it over to Zoey.

"Elena, I swear to you, I've never once heard any family history suggesting connection to this network." "The correspondence is nearly seventy years old," Elena said carefully, watching her reaction with cautious, desperate hope. "It's possible this refers to an ancestor, rather than to you specifically." Priscilla's hands shook as she examined the document more carefully, her professional training apparently overriding her personal distress as she studied the dating and context with focused, methodical attention. "My grandmother," she said slowly, understanding visibly settling into place. "Her name was also Priscilla Hart. She passed when I was young, though my father always spoke of her w

"Then, let's enjoy ourselves. I'll go make coffee." The heiress of the Lewis family was not someone she could offend. Grace sat across from Priscilla. "I've met the other ladies before, but I don't believe we've met. Which family are you from?" Priscilla didn't directly answer. "Just call me Aunt Priscilla." "Do you know Uncle Raymond?" Surprised by her address, Priscilla asked, "You call him Uncle Raymond?" Jean quickly intervened, saying, "This is Grace, the daughter of the Lewis family. She's like Raymond's daughter. Don't you recognize her?"

“But, I’m Ophelia Gregor, Daughter of the Crescent the heir and the direct descendants of the Moon Goddess.” “You know,” Priscilla said, a hint of mockery directed towards Bernard. “You have got a lot of explaining to do, right?” As always lady Priscilla doesn’t show much of a reaction, almost as if she was anticipating it from the beginning. And apparently, Ophelia wasn’t the only one who noticed that.

Priscilla Paytas was the lady with the strongest innate bloodline Alex Rockefeller had ever met. In fact, Priscilla was even stronger than the girl who wore a sailor’s uniform, Holly Yates. If Alex could make her his disciple and train her, she would definitely become a strong member on his team. Unfortunately, these were peaceful times, and Priscilla was a university student. It was a little difficult and disrespectful to make her his disciple and make her do his bidding. Alex could only indirectly guide her through Michelle Yowell.

Lukas inquired, sipping the amber liquid, its smoky burn grounding him. Victor smirked, swirling his glass. "Her name's Priscilla. She's my secretary—efficient with numbers, even better on her back. Keeps things... interesting around here."

He deadpanned "What do you expect me to think? I barely know you, and if she isn't your daughter, what is Priscilla?" I snapped at him. Alaric calmly replied, choosing his words carefully. "My name is Alaric Von Duvall and she is Priscilla Nolan. We are clearly not related by blood, nor is she adopted. Priscilla is an orphan I took in a couple of years ago after she lost her family..." Wait a moment. I was dumbfounded

A stall door swings open with a clang, unveiling a dress almost too large for the space, worn by a woman with a mean expression... and auburn hair. Priscella. "It means you're bad social cred," she sings, shooting me a look that could positively kill me where I stand. My eyes roll. "You again?" "Didn't I tell you, girls?" She ignores me, purposely going to the sink right next to me. But I don't move an inch. "It's bad for your reputation to be spotted with a gold-digger."