The Distraction Morgan Elizabeth Novels & Stories

Someone was here this weekend. Work is the best kind of distraction and I’m more than thankful that I have plenty of it to keep me occupied, but dread and panic eat at me. It had to be Morgan. No one else has a key. But why would she do this and who did she do it with? Cup after cup of coffee only gives me a short-lived boost. As the sky gets darker, the greater the restlessness becomes. I stretch across my desk in an effort to wake my stiff muscles back up, but as my hands reach out, my head touches the table and before I know it I’m resting on a pile of papers.

Morgan asked, joining her at the lake. "Satisfied with progress." "But not happy?" Elena touched the pendant. "Happiness is luxury I can't afford. Not while Theo remains stolen." "Yet you help others reclaim what was stolen from them." "Practice. Everything is practice for the real reclamation." Morgan studied her with eyes that saw too much. "Be careful that practice doesn't become purpose. Easy to save the world while avoiding saving yourself." "I know what I'm doing." "Do you? Or are you building elaborate distraction from the pain that drives you?"

“What I find strange is how determined she seems never to meet Brandon in person.” “Strange,” Morgan echoed lightly. I laughed along, playing my part. “She values privacy. Or she’s just too busy.” Morgan smiled, clearly content with the answer, then glanced over his shoulder as someone waved him over. “Ah—family photos,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “Duty calls.” “Of course,” I said. He clapped me lightly on the shoulder before stepping away, already slipping back into the role of proud relative. I watched him disappear into the crowd, the sounds of conversation and laughter swelling back around us.

she pressed as she pulled her feet from my lap and focused on Hunter who was now preoccupied with his phone, typing at it and blushing at it as well. “Yes, Elizabeth. It is Andersen Morgan. Dawn’s secretary, assistant, and friend. And for more information, he might be the biggest guy I have ever been with since… I came out of the closet. I swear that delicious cock deserves to be in the Guinness Book of Records.” He fawned dreamily causing me to gag.

It turned out that the little girl she had taken care of back then was Melanie, who was also her current granddaughter-in-law! Madam Mogan was shrewd. Seeing that Eliza seemed unaware that Melanie was already married, Madam Morgan didn’t reveal her identity. Eliza only knew that her surname was Drew and addressed her as ‘Ms. Cece’. Eliza did not know that she was Madam Morgan. "Did you hear what I said?" Hearing no response from the other end of the phone, Madam Mogan began to get angry. "Tomorrow, you go and meet that girl! I'll send you the time and place."

Then, “You sure you haven’t let them confuse you with lust?” “MORGANA,” I snapped, face heating. “I’m serious...” “So am I,” she shot back. “A bonded girl is a distracted girl. A distracted girl is a dead girl.” Kian nodded like a bobblehead. “Morgana’s right, your judgment is clouded...” “Shut up, Kian,” she said lazily. “You are still talking.” He closed his mouth again. She rose from her chair slowly, stepping around her desk until she stood directly before me and for a moment, I thought she’d hit me.

"She’s six months pregnant, Marcus! She has anemia! She can't just vanish into thin air!" "She’s not just vanishing, sir," Marcus said softly, risking his job. "She’s hiding." "But, we have another information about Mrs. Morgan. However, it also stops at a... dead end. No clue of where she is!" Ethan's hands on the glass of wine clutched tighter. In the past six months, he was either joining pieces of clue to find Elena or wasting himself in drink. He looked up at Marcus, his eyebrows narrowing as he said, "Any information about Elena is important to me. Speak..."

"She deserves it! She frightened you so badly you had to stage that fire to make us believe you were gone." I couldn't help but smile at his words, even as I strove to appear properly sorrowful. My face twisted with the effort to maintain my mask of grief. "Don't say that, Brother—" I began. At that moment, a familiar cold laugh echoed from the courtyard entrance: "So, Young Master Morgan, are you disappointed I'm not dead?" Eliza Morgan stood there, leaning slightly on a makeshift crutch, but her eyes were sharp and challenging.

She heaved a deep sigh as she put the documents down on the table. Morrigan's cold gaze darts towards the Prince Regent who is now crawling out of bed. But like Mathias, he could barely lift himself with how potent the drug Morrigan created just for the two of them. She leaned on the frame of a chair as she watches the Prince Regent crawling towards the door for his dear life. "Why struggle when everything will come to an end now." Morrigan wiped the dagger on her dress and held its hilt tightly as she lifts herself to stand upright. Looking below her, watching the Prince Regent mopping the floor as he helplessly crawls the cold floor. Watching him with bored eyes she stepped on the back of

I muttered underneath my breath as I stepped foot into the building. I walked to the receptionist who seemed to be busy on her computer. She raised her head when I got very close. “Hello ma'am, how can I be of help to you?” She asked, politely. “I have an appointment with the CEO this morning,” I said, maintaining a small smile. She punched on the landline, “Okay, let me confirm it,”she said, her tone brisk. “Thank you,” I replied, softly. She spoke with the other person and her jaw dropped at one as she met my eyes. “I'm so sorry, ma'am. I didn't realize, you are Crystal Morgan, the artist of the year,”she said, awe creeping into her voice.