Wendy Holden Author Novels & Stories

Chapter 20 Wendy's POV I stopped to take a breather when I turned around the corner and waited another twenty minutes before getting out of my wet clothes and walking to City Hall. It was time to teach once more that Wendy Whitney Decodes was here. I stopped at the door of the Hall and looked down at my own shadow. In a dark posture, I stood up straight, wearing tight jeans and a crop top, and I damn near glowed. The room quieted, turning their gaze toward the door. I took a single step, then a double, and finally, a third step, finding myself inside. The sound of my heels echoed.

It would be perfect if Warren went with Weston and Zachary. “What’s wrong with you?” Warren glared at Wendy with discontent. “How are you still so timid at this age?” In the early days of Wendy and Chris’s marriage, she’d pay attention to every move of hers to ensure she pleased everyone in the Ford family. But as the years passed, she gradually stopped bothering about all of that. No one could do anything to her now, much less such trivial matters. “Well,” she began, smiling sheepishly, “now that Guinevere is no longer engaged to Weston, there shouldn’t be any reason to meet the Cohens, right?”

"Heidy." Wendy paused for a moment and asked, "Why do you suddenly want to investigate her?" As soon as Jessica heard Wendy's words, she knew that this Heidy was not ordinary. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong? Does Heidy have any issues?" "When I was studying abroad for an exchange program, I heard about some of Ms. Coffey's achievements." Wendy used the word "deeds" so cleverly that Jessica became curious. "What deeds?"

Daisy smiled, “I’m just trying to make you feel better.” Wendy thought for a moment, “Actually, I also want to work for Glory Group. I once went to this company to bring Rex something and I happened to see their works. They are very creative, completely different from those taught in our school. They are on the next level. If only I could get in this company.” “Don’t worry, Wendy. I believe in your ability. Don’t forget to invite me to dinner after your dream comes true.” “You only focus on eating.”

Not to mention Wendy certainly had become more conservative over the years. Like many of my friends, I owned my share of adult videos and magazines but neither really seemed to interest her. While she still enjoyed sex, she was a lot less daring than our college days when she might actually fondle me in the car or go down on me while I was driving on a long trip.

She continued, "I helped you, out of my genuine kindness, in framing Mysteria Studio, but you went and told me to apologize to the whole damn Internet? That's cowardly, coming from someone who's just married to Clifford Johansen! "Honestly, for someone in a so-called aristocratic family, it's pretty pathetic that you can't handle a tiny scandal. And by the way, you can say goodbye to your designer's reputation because everyone knows you're a fraud!" Wendy grew up in this world, so how could she not understand this twisted game? Clarissa never cared about sisterhood. She was only using her. Truth be told, Wendy thought she had found a true friend. In the end, she was just being naive.

“You mean Leonard. Yes, you are too late. He’s not going to see the outside of a cell for a long, long time.” Wendy nods miserably. “I know. And I have information you’ll want to hear.” She glances at the officers. “I’d like to make a full and comprehensive confession that will incriminate myself, my husband, and Silas Creed in a murder and kidnapping conspiracy.” My breath catches at that. I look at Arthur, who nods reluctantly. The officers, intrigued, bring Wendy into our apartment. She stands awkwardly in our living room, looking small and old.

I thought it had ended, but it turned out the author took some time off writing. "Still, it's lengthy. I forgot the title of the novel. It's quite a simple one. You'll definitely find it, though. The other one is completed. You—" Wendy looked at the book he gave her. It didn't have a cover. Pressing her lips together, she threw herself at him as her eyes reddened. It was too much for Yves to handle, and he toppled over. Silas scoffed. "You're weak, Mr. Homer! You need more training."

She owns the island and has a major shares in Griffin Groups. My first impression of Wendy was that of Oprah Winfrey. You know, powerful, strong, the alpha-female kind of woman. But my impression was wrong because that wasn't what Wendy was like in reality. She was in her early eighties, wore horn rimmed spectacles and has short, curly and dense hair with black pearl color. She was a lover of jewelries. I can see that for myself from her jade necklaces and ruby rings. But that wasn't what made me stare.

They faced a lot of ridicule and only managed to escape their past by moving to another city. Thus, Wendy yearned for power and money, believing that she would only be considered successful if she stood at the top of the social pyramid. Only then could she finally mock back those who once mocked her. And I, an unremarkable comic artist, was merely a stepping stone for her. The report ended with a photo. It was a photo of a slightly plump middle-aged woman. I had seen her before… in a car accident. As I fell into memories, my assistant knocked on the door and entered.