Rachel Brockman Age Novels & Stories

She was different from the other girls I’d been with, just the same way Anna was. Could it be possible that they were the same person? I wondered and quickly shook my head, dismissing the thought. I met her in Brigdon, whereas from Rita’s reports, Anna seems to have lived her life in Delroy. “Sir, I also checked Ms Brookes's data,” Rita said, interrupting my train of thoughts. I looked up and gestured for her to proceed. “She’s twenty-eight years old from Delaware, no parents, went to college in Campbell, graduated top of her class, and is currently living downtown in Abbey Street,” she said.

“That’s really great. Give her my best.” “Oh, I will.” Rachel gave me a double take as if she’d forgotten I was in the room. “My oldest is seventeen. She used to have a big crush on Michael, here. Until a few years ago, she always begged me to take a sick day so she could come in for our little meetings.” Michael smirked. “She’s always welcome to come whenever she wants.” Rachel giggled and lightly patted his arm. “You’re too sweet.” She waved her hands between us. “Come, come, and sit. We have quite a bit of work to do today and I don’t want to keep you from your busy schedule.”

Stacy fell into a hug. She instinctively resisted, but she was held by Harry so that she could not move. "What are you doing?" Stacy panicked. "Hehe." "What am I doing? Weren't you very eloquent just now?" Harry pinched her jaw and said, "I underestimated you." If it weren't for Rachel, she wouldn't be willing to provoke him. She was a person who had suffered a lot. From the age of ten to eighteen years old, she not only grew up at the age but also with her mind.

It was a moment later that he forced herself to say, “I love you, Brockley. Should I say it again? It's just that our ages are too far apart." "I don't mind age." "The only woman you saw was me and aunt Yara, the rest were a few old women at the market this afternoon. When we get to the village, you will find many women there. Just so you know, there are many women there who are beautiful, young, of clear origin, educated, and have a clear background.” Unexpectedly Riley spoke quite decisively. She sharpened her gaze then continued, “As for me, an old girl whose family is unclear. I was twenty years exiled in the forest. I am nothing compared to the women of the village, Brockley."

Thankfully, that never happened. One would think that after years and given the nature of her job, Rachel Fisher will retire after living life to the fullest. But the years of pleasure made her thirsty for more. Her motto now was life begins at forty. “Yeah Rachel, I catch your drift” Hannah cringe internally, picturing her friend pressed up against the wall with God knows who slamming into her.

It led up to a narrow and dimly lit corridor. Rachel finally stopped and turned to face her. “I wrote that note.” “Yeah, I figured. But why?” Leah asked with a puzzled expression. Rachel heaved a sigh. “Because I know what they're doing to you and I too have been a victim of their games.” “What?” Leah's breath caught and her eyes grew wider. “I came here two years ago.” Racheal began, her voice low and steady. “I was desperately in need of a job because we needed the money back home. Everything was going well. I just cleaned the mansion, followed orders, and stayed quiet. But then..”

"Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure you would." "Why did you want to see me?" She looked down at her hands. "Because I owe you the truth. The whole truth. Not just the sanitized version I'm giving the prosecutors." I waited. "I know you think I was always plotting against you. That I seduced Allen away from you as part of some grand scheme." She looked up. Met my eyes for the first time. "But that's not how it happened." "Then how did it happen?" Rachel took a shaky breath. "I was nobody. A secretary from Ashwood, Ohio who lied on her resume to get a job at Allen's company. I thought if I worked hard enough, dressed the right way, said the right things, I could become someone who mattered."

No more guards hovering. Just Monica, sitting alone with her chains loose but still intact, her wrists red and aching. The overhead light buzzed softly above her. Then the door opened again. This time, it wasn’t Caleb. It wasn’t Chase. It was Rachel. Dressed in cream-colored slacks and a matching coat, her elegance sharp as ever. Her heels echoed on the floor as she walked forward slowly, like a woman ready to face the devil who broke her life in two. Monica blinked through the dim light, then slowly smiled—a tired, tremulous smile.

“My name is Rachel Adkins,” Rachel begins, her long red hair tied up in a high ponytail. She’s wearing the counselor t-shirt which, along with her jeans, is clinging to her frame, enough so that most of the boys are practically drooling. It makes sense because she’s around our age while the other counselors are much older.

I rinse my own glass and keep it before turning to look at Grace who's giving me one of her many judgemental looks. " How long have you been visiting?" I ask. " A lot, why?" " You really need to stop encouraging her about boys, Grace. Rachel is 16, not 18 or 20. She can't be talking about boys, boldly to be precise, and you go around and support her. You need to fucking stop." I say as I turn to walk out of the kitchen. I turn to look at Grace above my shoulder as I say. " And peel your fucking eyes off my man, or I'm going to pinch them out."