Wirt X Beatrice Novels & Stories

Caitlin reminded them. “Oh? You prepared a gift for me?” Beatrice asked in surprise. At this point, Bruce stepped forward, holding a beautifully crafted picture frame. He and Arthur carefully displayed it. Inside the frame was a vivid, detailed illustration of a grand family gathering, filled with warmth and happiness. At the bottom of the picture, in elegant golden lettering, were the words “Happy Birthday, Beatrice.” Elder Xenos’s eyes lit up when he saw the painting. “Wow, this is amazing!”

Serious ones. The new actress, Beatrice, was already on set by the time Whitney got there. Dressed in a tailored costume and swept-up hair, she looked every inch the character. Beatrice was from the Whitehall family—wealthy, well-connected, and trained to charm from birth. Her delicate features and serene expression made her camera-ready without effort. Whitney sighed inwardly.

At the party, Beatrice Sherbird’s close friends surrounded me. “I heard you’ve had a crush on Beatrice since you were a kid. You even insisted on being her husband when you played house. So, do you still have feelings for her now?” Everyone turned to look at me. I looked toward the woman in the corner who was casually pouring a drink and said, “I was young and clueless back then. I probably caused Beatrice a lot of headaches. “Honestly, those feelings faded a long time ago. Besides, I’m actually getting married soon.” I heard the sound of glass breaking. Beatrice stared at her high heels stained with spilled wine. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and she remained dazed for a

I winced, moving quietly, hoping to hell they wouldn’t notice me. “Beatrice!” My mom’s voice startled me. She was holding a half-empty bottle in one hand, her words slurring. “You’re home early. No club activities today?” My father eyed me from behind her, both his hands folded. He was British while my mother was South African. They’d met under some sort of ‘love at first sight’ scenario but that couldn't save their marriage. They always argued and some nights, Dad wouldn’t come home. On nights like those, my mum would drown her frustration in alcohol.

THE BAR, ITALY*** Mrs Beatrice Walton sat at a corner in the bar as she drank herself to stupor. This will be the eight bottle of Alcohol she was having for today She had left the mansion without her guard and came right her to drink At least to forget about her lost daughter for a while. In the same bar was Richmond. He was drinking, smoking and kissing the two prostitutes that was beside him They flirt with him and laughed out. One grabbed his d**k and Richmond moaned naughtily. He looked up and his eyes might with Beatrice seating at a corner in the bar. Mere seeing her, he pushed the two prostitute away and staggered to her

“So… what did you two do? Or what did you do that made him stay longer instead of just dropping you off and leaving?” Beatrice felt her face heat up. She truly couldn’t remember. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted with a weak laugh. “Let me just freshen up first. I need to eat and recharge. I’ll tell you once my memory starts coming back.” She pushed herself off the bed, wincing slightly from her headache but smiling brightly. Despite the lingering ache, she was in a good mood and Riela could see it clearly. ***** Meanwhile, Uriel tried to focus on the documents in his hands, though another yawn escaped him before he could stop it.

- asked Beaufort, curious about why his wife was there at that moment. Beatrice, a woman of impressive stature, walked to a small table where she poured a glass of red wine. Her piercing gaze met that of Beaufort. - I wish to return to my city, Runiere - she declared firmly, revealing a desire that was simmering within her. An ironic smile curved Beaufort’s lips. - This is our city now, dear - he replied, making it clear that his influence was firmly established in the city they both called home.

It wasn’t a rejection. It wasn’t an affirmation, either. But it was enough. For now. I ran my fingers down from her wrist, grazing her palm then pulling away. Her eyes were glued to mine, seeking something. Before either of us could get another word out her phone vibrated sharply. Beatrice winced, her eyes dropping to the ground. Her face fell immediately.

He closed the door quietly and disappeared into the dark house. Beatrice sat down at her vanity and picked up a brush to smooth out her hair. She felt a dark joy in her heart because she was finally the most important woman in the Green Eyes pack. "Goodbye, Giselle Piper, I hope the water is cold and the rocks are sharp. You should have never tried to take what belongs to me," Beatrice said to her reflection. She blew out the candles and laid down in her bed, waiting for her husband to come home from his field of ghosts.

“Is this what you wanted? Because you won, Beatrice. She’s dead.” Her mouth parted. “What are you talking about?” “Zara.” I breathed her name like a curse. “She’s dead. She got in an accident this morning after she disappeared two days ago and died at the hospital. So congratulations, Bee. You really stuck the landing on that final act.” Beatrice blinked, stunned into silence. “No… no, that’s not—” “That’s not what?” I snapped. “Not what you wanted? You wanted to humiliate her. Destroy her. You convinced me to be a monster, and I was too spineless to stop it. But you—you loved every second of it. Every second of watching her crumble.”