Widow Of The South Book Novels & Stories

A widow before her prime. When her husband—eldest heir of the Sinclair family—passed unexpectedly, she had been left stranded in that cold mansion, mother-in-law watching her every move, her little son too young to understand the weight suddenly pressing on her shoulders. Three years dragged by like a lifetime. And then he appeared. Edmond Dubois—handsome, magnetic, second only to the Sinclairs in fortune, and a bachelor society could not stop gossiping about. He had swept into her world with the kind of ardent pursuit no grieving widow expected, no lonely woman could truly resist.

The active receiver had no name, only an encrypted channel ID. But beside it was a label someone had typed into the device. WIDOW. Cassandra Winston went pale. Alexander went still beside me. My heart dropped. “Widow?” I whispered. Cassandra’s voice trembled for the first time. “That was what they called me after my husband died.” Director Reyes’s face hardened. “Then this is personal.” The device suddenly crackled. Static filled the room. Then a woman’s voice came through, distorted but clear enough to make every hair on my arms rise.

Control. The car rolled in and stopped in front of a huge white mansion. Someone opened the car doors and I stepped out. We were ushered into their sitting room and we waited a few minutes. “There you are.” I looked up and there she was, Martinez's Widow. She looked younger than I expected she'd be. But she couldn't be that young, not when she had a son as old as Gabriel. She was said to have killed her husband because she had an affair and bore a bastard child. After her husband's death, she laid claim to his seat as Don. She's the only female Don, yet she managed to be one of the most feared. Looking at her now, I couldn't reconcile her with her reputation. Beside her was Gabriel Martinez,

"I didn't wait to hear the rest. I turned and walked away. My heart was already dead. There wasn't even any pain left. I led my pup out through the back door. The hinges creaked softly, but no one heard. Behind us, the cheers grew louder, and brilliant fireworks burst across the sky. The ceremony was complete. I could imagine Regulus' expression in that moment. He'd abandoned his wife and pup, even faked his own death, and finally gotten everything he wanted. I kept walking, holding the pup as we left the estate behind. From this moment on, we would never see him again.

I was the type who could sit still in the corner and still have all eyes on me. Funny, isn’t it? Once upon a time, I was Darey’s wife. Sweet, dependable Darey, the safe man everyone thought was perfect for me. And when he died, people pitied me. Poor Brandy, the widow. Poor Brandy, all alone. They whispered it like it was my curse. They didn’t see what I saw... that widowhood wasn’t an end for me, it was an opening.

Everything I'd built about her since I rode in told me I'd find her sick with it, that we'd hold the same horror across the steam, the two southerners who didn't belong. Oh was I wrong. She didn’t look sick with it. She watched the flat water where her husband had gone under with her hands folded in front of her, her face composed and steady, nothing on it at all. No flinch. No swallow. She watched the old man hold the man she'd married under boiling water with the plain patience of someone watching a thing she'd seen before and accepted, a thing that was hers now. Whatever the omega had been that I'd known in the South, she was gone. I had badly mistaken who I climbed this mountain to barga

"Stop kidding yourself! We got married because of a promise, not love. I thought Elliot couldn't accept you. Turns out, you're the one who couldn't accept him. This is the only way to make it right." Seeing Randall about to lose everything, his parents softened. "For the sake of all these years as a family, forgive him this once. Please." "Yeah, he really does love you." Olivia looked at them, and for a brief second, she thought of Elliot's mom. She had once promised that woman she would take care of Elliot for the rest of her life. She had called her "Mom" and meant it. In the end, she was the one who got her killed. Olivia's voice turned colder. "That's enough. I'm divorcing him. He doesn'

His expression darkened as he glared at me. My father spoke up first. “Nancy, is this how we raised you? “Anna is an orphan. Even her husband passed away three years ago. How could you be so cruel?” Likewise, my mother looked at me with open reproach. “Being a widow already invites gossip. Are you doing this on purpose?”