The Margot Affair Goodreads Novels & Stories

It was no longer the digital watch Fiona had once given me, but a rare antique timepiece I had personally acquired. … Once the event wrapped up, Frank handed me a copy of the latest financial headlines from back home. The front page read, "Disgraced Tycoon Fiona Wainwright Now Living on Welfare". The photo captured a frail, hunched woman, her hair streaked with gray. Clutching a half-empty bottle of cheap liquor, she gazed blankly at Quantum Group's towering billboard across the street. The irony cut deep. There she was, kneeling before my billboard like a penitent seeking forgiveness.

He threw his phone onto the desk, muttering, “Kill my wife? Please. She’s with her mother. That idiot thought I’d fall for it.” He blocked the number and returned to his papers, waiting for the rain to stop unaware of just how wrong he was. Margot’s POV After her talk with Zara, Margot felt triumphant. She had given her orders, and she was certain Zara would obey. There was no one in the world who could defy her not even God, or so she liked to think. “No one can save you from me, Zara,” she whispered to herself with a cruel laugh as she adjusted her pearls in the mirror.

I was the biological daughter of the Moretti family, stolen and deliberately switched at birth. When they finally brought me home, everyone believed I had come for their money and power. No one said it more often than Bianca, the daughter they had raised in my place. She said poor people knew better than anyone how to look helpless, and how to trick the rich out of everything they owned. For three years, I tried to prove her wrong. I kept the surname Vale. I stayed away from Moretti Holdings. I refused every expensive gift they offered me. Then my father announced that the family was facing a liquidity crisis. Several core accounts had been frozen, and three of their transport routes had bee

“Depends on how you see it … all good things are better when you have someone to share it with.” He closed in after he said it. Neither of them wants to get deeper into the topic. She went on telling him about her back-packing experiences that she enjoyed so much. Solo traveling to exotic places in all corners of the world. Unattached to anything or anyone, it was clear from the start, that she was a free soul. Something that was not familiar to him. Margot lured him in with her wits and smarts. Maybe it was her traveling, maybe it was her reading, maybe it was the various jobs she worked on that made her so insightful. There was an ease about her that enticed him, she was easy to be with.

That part was never in question. Something shifted in Margot's face. Very small. Very real. 'Yes,' she said. 'That part was never in question.' They sat with the tea for a while longer. They talked, cautiously at first and then with more ease, about Rowan as a child, about things Elara did not know and wanted to know, about the estate and the study and the photograph of the young man squinting into the sun. Margot told her a story about him at sixteen that made Elara laugh, a genuine laugh, and Margot's face at the sound of it did something that was almost, not quite but almost, the beginning of warmth.

To me, it would have felt like a funeral. Rigoberto Richardson sat at the head of the table. He looked miserable. His jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth might crack. He poked at his food but didn't eat a single bite. Across from him, Margot was the complete opposite. She was glowing. She laughed at something Portia said, her eyes bright with a cruel sort of triumph. "Oh, Margot," Portia giggled, swirling her red wine. The liquid stained her lips like blood. "You really should see the comments online. They are absolutely destroying her. I almost feel a little bit sorry for the girl."

“No, we’re still filing for divorce.” “Then you have your answer. I wouldn’t waste my time playing these games when I know it won’t change anything. I’d rather sleep, like now, so I can still serve you another time. If you don’t have anything else to say, I’d like to sleep alone tonight, Justin.” I was left speechless. Margarette took a deep breath and added, “Justin, listen carefully.” She unwrapped part of the blanket, revealing her cleavage, but her angry expression made it impossible to enjoy the view. Instead of feeling threatened, I thought she looked like an angry kitten.

Her mind was filled with things she should do now that Harry’s affair was known by the public. “He should make use of his thick face and pretend that everything’s fine,” Margot commented while listening to the news on her phone on her way to the office. Just like she expected, Harry’s affair with his secretary became a headline. It might be a nightmare for Harry but Margot took it as a piece of good news. She couldn’t wait how her husband would handle the situation. Margot had some ideas knowing that Harry wouldn’t easily back down despite the clear evidence against him, but she honestly wanted to see him try.

she called, trying to keep her voice steady. The door opened, and Marguerite, their housekeeper, stepped inside. “Good morning, Mrs. Davenport,” she said, her tone neutral. “Mr. Davenport would like to see you in his study when you’re ready.” Clara nodded, unable to speak. Marguerite lingered for a moment before quietly closing the door behind her. This was it. The moment Clara had been dreading. She stood up, smoothing down her dress and taking a deep breath.

Xavier nodded his head as he clenched his jaws. Margarette didn't know what they were talking about. She was just happily eating her strawberries while watching them. Her heart was at content. After their talk last night, she was more than happy to be able to live with him. She knew in her heart that he wasn't a bad man everybody says he was. He's a good husband to her... Xavier suddenly turned his head towards her direction. Their eyes met. His face was dark and he looked murderous. She flashed a sweet smile and waved her hands in his direction, totally oblivious of the rage emitting from him.