Veronica Open The Door Novels & Stories

I was already at the edge of giving up when suddenly Veronica whispered we should drag the table. We agreed and dragged the heavy table aside. And came into view with the little hole of tilt that was placed on the floor. We picked them aside one after the other but there was a door that led inside which was a pin. After 5 minutes of attempting, Veronica succeeded in opening it, and we hugged happily, only to discover that the second door can only be opened with his thumb. I was disappointed once more, despite the fact that Veronica had already informed us. I called Jackson, and he said he was already close to the house, so I told him how to get in, and Mr Jay will lead him to where we are.

VERONICA’S POV My heart raced like it had never done before as I dashed into the house. I hurried into my room and two steps into my room, my feet turned numb. And then I stood at the spot and let my heaving chest heave. What should I do? I was still in my dazed state when a rap sounded on the door. “Veronica, please hear me out...” a raspy voice pleaded. I swallowed and faced the door. Veronica, you must choose one; open the door and talk things out with him or never open and never get the chance to hear what he had to say.

Veronica, head down and riveted on her cellphone, crossed the hall fast. No drooling 2-year-old with wild blonde curls in her arms. Most likely his niece, Clancey, was already snoring in her crib. It didn’t take long before Veronica reached him. A scowl wrinkled her lips when she yanked the glass door open. “D’you get my texts?” “Yeah,” he replied, noting the slight uneasiness in her voice. She let him into the lobby as her fairly anxious expression became a scrutinizing look-over. “What’s with the slacks? What time d’you get in?” She shut the main door. It automatically locked up.

The urge grew with every thought. But the spell shattered with the sudden swing of the door. Veronica stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and accusation. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice low and even.

“Yes. Well, after a long time of suffering, I finally earned a better placement other than a doormat.” Silence falls over them. I can hear only a sniffle and the blowing of a nose. “Thank you, Elara,” Veronica says softly and then a sliver of light brightens the room as she pulls the door open, closing it behind her. I remain still, knowing that both of them have yet to leave. I could talk to her, step up and demand to bring her home, but Veronica’s words have me stuck. ‘You have Waylon.’ who the fuck is Waylon?

“Zephyr?” The door opened before Callum could answer. Zephyr was in a wheelchair. He looked pale and tired, and there were bandages under the hospital gown, but he was sitting up on his own. And he was looking at me. The breath I’d been holding for weeks came out all at once. “Veronica,” he said. I started crying. I didn’t mean to. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t, not in front of him, not when he was still hurt, but the sound came out anyway.

The doorbell suddenly rang. "Honey, could you check who is at the door," she shouted. "Aren't you nearest to the door?" Bradley replied from the kitchen. "Whatever," she muttered and went over to open the door. "Who is there?" she asked and pulled the door open. Her jaw nearly fell to the ground when she saw the figure at the door. "What do you think you are doing at my home," Veronica?" She asked. "It's nice to meet you too, Yvonne," the woman replied and roughly shoved Yvonne aside. Yvonne nearly fell to the ground but managed to grab the door for support.

Aiden got relaxed when he heard his mother finally let go of the girl, but hearing her stop her again, he found his heart beating faster. "That scarf. Don't you think the color is off?" Veronica said before walking closer to her. "You should use something black. Orange doesn't suit the clothes you're wearing." She kept looking at Amelia, who looked like she was wishing silently to just enter the ground. Veronica was about to touch the scarf when the main door of the house suddenly opened, and Eric walked in.

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter.

Without even realizing it, I touched the ruby brooch at my collar. It was a present from Edwin. However, the most important thing about it was the tiny camera Edwin had put in there himself. I watched Shirley, lost in her daydreams, with a cool look, and a small smile crept onto my face. She couldn't possibly think I was still the same silly girl she bullied and lied about on Christmas Eve, unprepared for her tricks, could she? After laughing to her heart's content, Shirley opened an app, started a livestream, and tearfully claimed I had lost my mind and was out to get her.