Wednesday Thornhill Novels & Stories

“From what I know, the kids are on weekends to give way for school.” Red nodded, “Yeah, Jade and Gray are on Saturdays. Blue and Ash on Sundays. Mine’s on a Friday. I got to leave class early that day.” “Mine’s Monday,” Hazel added. Then she pointed to Clementine with her thumb, “She’s after me. We’re both on Monday.” Olive said, “Thursday.” At the same time that Scarlett said “Tuesday.” Today was Wednesday. Yep, my shopping day was the same as my therapy day.

The Cross‑Continental Pursuit Dawn broke over the London skyline, yet thin plumes of smoke still rose in the distance from the ruins of Ashwood Manor a monument to the mad ambitions of Julian Thorne Sr. Inside the iconic Thorne Group skyscraper, at the heart of the City of London’s financial district, Mavric Thorne stood before the wide window of his office. His appearance was disheveled; his black shirt was rolled up to the elbows, revealing a bandage on his forearm, and his eyes burned with exhaustion mixed with cold, unyielding fury.

He eased off the bed, gathering soaked sheets, cursing the child. **** Thorn woke so violently that his hand knocked the lamp off the nightstand. 4:33 AM. His heart hammered. Something had moved through the wardline. Not physically — but spiritually — like a hook dragging through silken thread. He dressed in seconds and rushed out across the ridge toward the patrol. Two warriors were already waiting, alert. “Report,” Thorn demanded. “All wards hold, Sir. We checked before sunrise,” the lead warrior answered. Thorn shook his head once, slow and grim.

SCOTT Like any other week after a week in LA, I was busy as hell, catching up on everything going on, all the work we had in Fresno, planning for the upcoming week away from home. This week seemed worse than usual. I was usually dragging myself home at least a half hour later than usual. I figured it was going to be end of July, beginning of August before I'd finally finish Thornhill's house and could quit making the weekly trek. I received a call from Bill himself on Wednesday.

A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts, and Calvin, my ever-present bodyguard, stepped in when I responded. “What is it?” I asked, impatience edging my voice. I didn't want to be disturbed. “It's about the thugs that attacked Miss Thorne that night…” he began. “So have you found them?” They had just one fucking job, but this thug kept slipping out of their hands. “We know where he'll be tonight. There's an intel that he'll be meeting with his employer at Oakwood Park tonight,” Calvin replied. My brows raised. “What time?”

A pure silver custom made cufflinks with the Thornhill crest on it, My father gifted me this wonderful piece just this morning. The chandeliers in the hall dripped with gold, the floral arrangements were tall enough to touch the ceiling, and the champagne never stopped flowing. Everything screamed wealth and power. This isn't just a birthday party, it is a warning to anyone here that Thornhill Enterprises is still number one. I moved through the crowd, smiling broadly, making brief nods here and there. Shaking hands with people who would rather slit my throat in a boardroom than toast to my success. I knew their games, and they knew I played the game better.

The face and prestige of the Thorne family were known throughout the city and beyond. After enquiring at the reception, he was directed to Jessica Willows, who had been sent in in the early hours of the morning. Getting there, Ann was seated there, worry and concern etching every corner of her face. But they were both unfamiliar to themselves. Except that Ann recognized Liam Thorne of the Thornes. “... Excuse me. Is this the ward for Jessica Willows?” He asked firmly. “... Yes.” She replied curtly. Liam, without waiting another Second, swung the door open.

Red eye weren't close at all. A week of being in a closed room, and I was getting frustrated. I was properly fed and by now, it was only scare that covered a major part of my body. It's being a week I've gone to school and anyone was yet to reach out to me. By anyone, I meant Shirley and her dad. Mr. Red eye also seemed to be avoiding me, which I wasn't pleased with. There was something in me that always wanted to see him at all times.

Thorne. Mr. Thorne: "Meet me at The Onyx after closing Saturday. Come through the staff entrance. We'll discuss. Alone." "Alone." The word felt heavy. Closing on a Saturday meant very late, probably into Sunday morning. But 'Special Client Engagement' probably meant special hours. I typed a quick 'Okay' and hit send, my thumb shaking slightly.

Grandma lifted the lantern and drew closer to me when I got to the kitchen to see whether supper was ready. From my toes, I was wet to the waist, and that perhaps made her curious. “Is the brook flooded?” she asked, as she pulled the wick. The lampshade shone brightly. The bright light was accompanied by the scent of the burning wick that was soaked with kerosene. “You shouldn’t have taken the shorter route to the community center,” she added.