Novel & Cerita Rachel Brockman

“Sorry that I didn’t tell you but I didn’t go to Hank’s wedding, at the last moment they said I don’t know the bride wanted a private wedding.” I said and she sat down on the couch staring at Lucas. With his tattoos and stature, he looked like a mafia lord, no one would ever believe he works for the CIA. “Yeah, not the thing I am confused about.” She says as she extends her hand, “I am Danika, you are?” “I am Lucas, I used to work with your boyfriend a few years ago.” He says, completely shifting the subject, also assuring her that if he knows Jake, then he is probably not bad news.

Rachel offered, closing her makeup bag and turning to look at me. I chuckled, shaking my head at her. "She's from the Silver Wing. You'd be out of this campus before you could blink an eye," I joked, although there was some truth behind my words. Rachel shrugged, evidently unbothered by my remark. "I'm sure it will be worth being expelled because I punched Louise Chambers. I'd proudly write that on my resumé." That got a loud laugh out of me, but it was cut short by the sudden vibration of my phone on the desk. I reached for it, a flutter in my chest at the sight of Adrian's name on the screen.

He asks me and I shake my head. “There a lot of people that dislike me a lot but not so much that they would actually do this.” I say as I try to think of someone who would want to ruin my life. My mom? No, I don’t think so. “Umm how about someone who has been obsessed with you over the years?” I shake my head again. Thankfully I’ve never had crazy fans. “A man named Richard Walts was kind of obsessed with her. Maybe you can check up on him.” Jake tells him as the officer writes down the name and details.

Eleanor said, and called one of her domestic workers to take the food away. "Emma, I know something went down and Brandon hasn't given you a chance to talk. Please, talk to me. Tell me everything, and I'll give you some motherly advice," Eleanor said, her tone gentle. I was relieved that someone was finally willing to listen to what happened. Even though I had no evidence to back up my story, I knew Eleanor would believe me. "Rachel is a member of the Phoenix Brigade. She…” I stopped talking when the door swung open, and Brandon sauntered into the room, locking his gaze with me as if he had just discovered the truth. I blinked rapidly, waiting for him to speak. "Brandon!" Eleanor called when

— Luciana knew that they were talking about the little girl. —Well, that makes me very happy, I think you already know most of them, so before starting the meeting, I'm going to introduce you to my beautiful daughter, the person in charge of the company, Luciana Brown, honey, this is Santiago O 'Brien — Santiago smiled as he finally knew who the beautiful woman was and extended his hand.

Danielle was a little too abrasive for people who were meeting her for the first time, I thought ruefully as I linked a hand through her arm. Danielle looked after the woman’s disappearing figure in some curiosity. ‘The Boss thinking of setting up a home for lost folk or something?’ she asked as we walked away and I shushed her with a shake of my head. As we chatted and strolled to the kitchen, to settle on stools while Beatrice bustled about making coffee, Rachel informed me that she was getting married the following week and then she would be flying out to Iceland. She had taken up a new project there.

That is, until I saw her. Rachel Adams, James Hawke’s ever-efficient assistant, was sitting in the waiting area of my office. Her posture was impeccable, her sharp blazer and perfectly coiffed hair a testament to her polished demeanor. She was scrolling through her phone, but her eyes darted toward me the moment I walked in. “Ms. Adams,” I greeted, masking my surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” “I needed to speak with you,” she said, standing. Her tone was polite, but there was an edge to it, like a blade wrapped in silk.

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.

I asked her and she just shook her head. “Not really, I just found out that Alicia has been promoted as well. She will be working with you in the Pack Mansion,” Rachel said. I looked at her confused. “Why do you want to work at the pack mansion so badly? I told you that it isn’t as it looks. It is better to be invisible in these people’s eyes,” I explained to her. “You are saying that because you are not invisible. You don’t know what it feels like to not be noticed by people. To be treated like you don’t exist,” Rachel said and frowned.

Webb called Rachel's draft the document that makes the data matter to people who don't read data. Rachel called Dr. Webb's research the thing that proves I wasn't imagining it, and proves six other women weren't imagining it either. They were right about each other. Rachel put a coffee on my desk and sat in the chair she had claimed as hers months ago — the one near the window, angled toward the light. "How's June?" I asked. "Violin lesson this morning," Rachel said. "Her teacher described her as — and I am quoting directly — the most opinionated student I have encountered in twenty years of instruction."