Wentworth Bridget Novels & Stories

*She'll know you're alive. We moved fast through corridors I'd only partially memorized, Alejandro's guards fanning out ahead of us, checking each turn before allowing him through. The closer we got to the royal wing, the more I felt the weight of everything Catalina had told me pressing down harder — the shrine, the statue, the ancient thing we'd woken beneath the earth, and now a name so dangerous even a centuries-old witch was afraid to speak it above a whisper. *Whoever's dead, I have a terrible feeling this isn't unrelated. Nothing in this palace seems to be unrelated anymore.*

“Ok, we believe it’s Darkey’s kid. I think she must be about eleven or twelve. She went to private school in Manhattan. A good student. Pretty girl, takes after her mother, not Darkey, thank God. Only child, but she has a lot of cousins…. And, uhh, well, I’m afraid that’s about all I know.” “You think Bridget is the type of person to use her daughter in a ploy to get me?” “I don’t, frankly, but nothing would surprise me.” “How often does Bridget go to Belfast?” “I have no idea. I do have other cases, you know. I heard something about a home in Donegal, wherever that is.”

I handled business deals and cooperations with her. She took me on business trips abroad. She gave me all kinds of gifts. This month, the Houde family’s adopted daughter and their heir showed up together. The sight of them, hand in hand in the business world and malls in the capital city, caused quite a stir. The media tried to expose my real face but were unsuccessful. I lived a good life. I did not suffer at all from losing Bridget. Time quickly passed to the day of the wedding. Bridget really loved Vernon and she took their wedding seriously. The wedding was held in the only six-star hotel in the capital city. They even chartered it. And her wedding dresses were haute couture.

Lena was looking at her soup. The specific and particular quality of her looking at the soup, the careful and composed quality of a woman who was managing the specific and complicated experience of being defended at a table where she had never been defended, who was receiving something she did not know the full weight of yet and was keeping her face very still while she understood it. "How wonderful," Bridget said. The word again. Wonderful. She moved to Franklin. The main course.

“It’s good to hear you say that. I believe others will want to hear that. But I think I can point you to a few possible choices.” “I mean no offence. I will want to talk to the arms master, Yolanda. I’m sorry no one has told me her last name yet. I was thinking she might work as the leader of my guards.” And that’s when Bridget’s face developed a very odd expression. It seemed to be a cross between apprehension and fear. “Oh, I am aware of her history with my mate. But, she’s just going to have to put her big girl panties on and be an adult. I want her skills and though her friendship would be welcome it’s not necessary.”

Think of the decision of choosing roles before each birth into a new lifetime, as choosing a video game character and their attributes / abilities. There are pros to choosing the Bridge path. The main plus is that when you succeed at it, you get to choose to become ethereal, angel, demon, spirt guide, or other higher soul level entities. You get to choose whether you want to reincarnate again, or if you just want to live in the higher-level positions. Also, Bridges come with many different abilities such as, time manipulation, healer, telekinesis, psychokinesis, astral and mental projection, talking to animals and other living beings, manifesting from senses, hearing thoughts of others, and

m. Southbridge. Vale Industries. Year: 2019. A real estate project. Land acquisition. A woman’s name she didn’t recognize but couldn’t stop repeating in her head. Eleanor Wyatt. She found the address. An old brick house at the end of a cracked, narrow road. The kind of place that had a story long before money ever got involved. She hesitated at the gate. Then rang the bell. A woman answered. Mid-forties. Sharp eyes. Faded beauty, the kind that didn’t care to be restored. She stared at Anais like she already knew why she was there.

He said Victoria dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Yes, whatever. Anabelle. Why waste your time thinking about her?” she asked. “Because she was important,” he muttered. Victoria’s forehead went up. “And how about Bridget?” she inquired. “Bridgets family is powerful, influential. She is aware of how this world functions. She will assist you in maintaining what I had built in the past years.” Carson’s jaw became tense. “You mean she’ll help ‘you’ maintain it.” he retorted

WRITER'S POV “We need my Mother now!!! Thane bit out. “I'll go get here.” Bridget said. “Please hurry.” Bridget walked briskly away from the house, her face carefully composed in worry and urgency. She had just left Thane and Tyla as she placed the little girl in Thane’s arms with a solemn expression. But Bridget had no intention of going to fetch Sherleen. She slipped through a side path behind the herb gardens, her pace quickening with each step until she disappeared into the thicker trees near the training grounds.

It was called ‘Love, Vinora’ and true to its name, the place offered baked goods and flavours popular with the capital’s populace or unique to Vesperia. The bakery owner smiled politely as she handed over the package filled to the brim with large lemon and white chocolate chip muffins. “Thank you very much for your patronage, my lady.” Valery accepted it gratefully and grinned brightly behind her mask. “Thank you as well. I will be sure to return for more.”