The Hawthorne Legacy Audiobook Novels & Stories

"Your five minutes are up. Rebecca will contact Bennett about scheduling the DNA test. Now please leave. I have a murder to solve." He moved toward the door but paused. "One more thing. The Hawthorne legacy isn't just about wealth and control. It's also about loyalty. When someone threatens our family, we destroy them. Completely, utterly, without mercy." "Is that a threat?" "It's a promise. Whoever killed your mother, whoever is framing you, whoever is trying to take my child's mother from them—" his voice dropped to something dangerous, "—I will find them. And I will make them regret ever crossing a Hawthorne. That's what the legacy means, Evelyn. That's why our child needs to be part of i

“…An honor?” For a moment, he thought he had misheard. Nobody ever spoke to him like that. Not in his world. Inside the Hayes mansion, he was called useless. A burden. A mistake. Honor didn’t belong anywhere near his name. He let out a short, bitter breath. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m not interested.” “This is not a joke, sir,” The voice replied immediately. “My name is Victor Hale. I am the chief steward of the Cross family.”

A new title appeared on every screen in the world, scrolling in a font made of starlight: "BOOK TWO: THE MARS AUDIT. PROTAGONIST: HOPE THORNE-VANCE. STATUS: INITIALIZING..." The sound of the 1977 cassette tape played one last time—Hiss. Click. Whir.—and then, the music changed. It wasn't a ballad anymore. It was an Anthem. "Check your pulse, Reader," Hope’s voice echoed through your device. "The first chapter of the future just dropped. And this time... You’re the Co-Author."

"Is that what you thought? That sleeping with a woman would somehow rewire my brain? My heart? That you could fuck the gay out of me?" "No Lancaster man has ever had such desires before." His voice turns dangerously quiet, like the calm before a tornado. "Five generations of honorable men, building a legacy you seem determined to destroy." My hands clench into fists so tight my nails draw blood from my palms. "So that's it? I'm a genetic mistake? The first Lancaster to break your precious mold?"

As I reach the car, Turner opens the back door for me. As he is about to close the door, I hear Hannah calling for me. I peek out of the car and she waves at me, running to the car. She is breathless and slides next to me. Turner closes the door and her eyes widen and she is trying to force her lungs to function. “I can’t remember the last time I had to run,” she says between breaths and I can’t help but smile. Hannah has never been into fitness. Can’t blame her, I absolutely hate it.

Hawthorne couldn't stop himself from yelling into the speaker as his hands kept jittering like someone under the influence of alcohol. "Who said I wanted to destroy your alliance with the Delm's? Though that was a plus that I'm definitely intrigued about its turnout, now what do my little birdies tell me? That you're trying to set an alliance with my brother? That won't be a good move though." Mr Hawthorne began looking around his office, trying to figure out if there was anywhere that Claw must have left a camera.

It was a secret not yet ready to be spoken aloud too many times, lest it lose its shape or turn against us. The Legacy Common Hall rose into view like a cathedral carved from ambition and fire. Gold-fluted pillars framed the entrance. A chandelier the size of a carriage loomed overhead, its crystal drops catching the warm light like the glint of watchful eyes. The moment we crossed the threshold, the air shifted. Heavier. Colder. Hungrier. This wasn’t just a place to study or socialize. This was the stage where legacies rehearsed their dominance. And there, beneath a cascade of amber light by the bay windows, sat Ingrid Marrow.

The Spark Beneath Her Silence The Cassie & Damon Legacy Sanctuary was quiet in the early morning, not empty, but intentional. The halls pulsed with unspoken purpose, like a heart beating softly in prayer. Nova stood on the third floor of the archive library, her hand tracing the spine of a dusty book titled How Empires Remember. It was old, handwritten in places, and full of insights she’d read a dozen times, but today, it felt different. Something was shifting. In the air.

They were all opportunists and traitors to the best of my knowledge and I know for a fact that none of them here felt sorry for the loss of my father As quiet as I could be I still couldn't avoid the stares and whispers that filled the hall, I felt like an animal at the zoo, a spectacle being examined. They were not discreet at all in their loud whispers ".....I heard her father embezzled money from the company amongst other crimes that could have led to the downfall of the company. He probably thought he could get away with it " came stranger one " I thought they said he built the company from scratch, why would he want to ruin it now that it has risen to the top ten companies in the nation

The click sounded like an explosion in Noah’s ears. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. Beyond the door, the cold, silent hallway of the De Luca estate greeted him with dramatic, dim lighting. Noah didn't have time to admire the minimalist architecture, which surely cost enough to feed an entire province. He had to move. Now.