Agnes Sampson Novels & Stories

I walked to the driver and smiled. “Caren Inc please” I slipped into the car and he drove off. Caren Inc was a large office building, it wasn’t so popular but I already felt a homy feeling around it. I stepped out of the car and walked into the building. I headed straight for the receptionist, a tall blonde woman with huge spectacles. Her tag said Mrs. Helen Mayer. “hey, I’m Camila Santiago and I applied for a job here” she glanced through some files and smiles.

Today is such a beautiful day in Salem, I can already tell by the early dawn sun shining through my window. What does today have in store for me? Work! I work at The Jonathan Corwin House which is known locally as The Witch House. It's famous as the original owner of the same namesake was one of the judges who presided over the notorious trials and it's now a museum and I'm lucky enough to run it. What's even better is, I live opposite so it's simply a short walk to work every day.

An old man on the vintage chair with a newspaper in hand replied. A woman wearing a huge smile on her face, probably older than Westley stood up. “Audene, I thought you’re busy.” The thick southern accent in her tongue was palpable. She bounced her eyes from me, then back to Westley. “Hello, I’m Clyve.” I held out my hand. “You must be new here, darlin’. I’m Xena.” She shook my hand, then looked at Westley who looked at her with disinterest. It was her way of telling her to shut up because I was not her type.

I was more determined than that though, I'd go all night if I had too. It was 3 am and Max was passed out on the sofa. Still no sign of a single Megestanis, but I had found Postestas Loren's mate. Her name was written as Donatia Chiaramonti Loren and unlike every other name, it was in red ink. Her birth date, April 16th 44 AD, was also in red. "Max , wake up," I said. "Bloody hell, Max! I said wake up!" I repeated after he didn't reply.

I ask her. “My name is Amber and I thought since you always sit alone and I always sit alone. Maybe we could sit alone together?” She said with a smile. I couldn’t get any readings off of her and I didn’t feel any danger from her. I nodded my head at her and she took a seat next to me. “I’m sorry to just come over and disturb you like this.” “You’re not disturbing me at all,” I said to her.

“I know you guys are coming.” “We are sorry were late.” Agnes said. “You are not.” We pushed through with our day, and acted like nothing had happened. But I could not let what they did pass, so even Fatma protested, we still did it and with Hana this time. Agnes’ job was to make them sleep sound. She volunteered to help prepare dinner that night, and she poison their soup with too much valerian root tea. And it was satisfying to watch them slurp the stained food during dinner.

Diana shook his head sadly: "I was so dumb that day that I didn't even recognize my Madam. In fact, no matter what, as long as you and your husband haven't divorced, you are the wife of the Smiths." Diana was the old housekeeper of the Smiths and used to help Mrs. Smith with errands. Because Mrs. Smith has always liked him, even Diana was great for her. She clenched the doorknob, lowered her eyes, and asked in a low voice, "Grandma, is she okay?" Diana shook his head: "It's still the same, there's no sign of waking up." Rachel West took a breath, only to feel bad. Grandma is such a good person, why did she become like this?

Is she really in her right senses? "I know what you want don't worry I'll give it to you" he nodded and tore out a cheque then wrote some numbers and handed it to her. "Is that enough or do you need more for your service that night?" He asked. The girl still had the smirk on her face as she collected the cheque from him then tore it into two which surprised Davis. "My name is Agnes Sanchez, AKA the president's daughter so do you think I'd really need this" she asked with a smile.

“So, he ditched you?” “Oh, shut the fuck up, Michael!” Agnes gritted her teeth as she bared them to her cousin. The latter only laugh as if he is quietly enjoying how much she drown herself towards the heavy drinks she had inside her room. Agnes Gineva Garcia. One of the renown billionaires, heiress or Garcia’s group of companies, which she lead for years had just gotten herself ditched by no other than a Del Fierro. And of course, it was just a mere deal—for Midnight maybe, but for Agnes, it was both her dignity as woman, and as a businesswoman which had been put at shame.

And it was clear then that Sister Agnes was a friend, not a foe. My hand went calmingly to rest over Gabe’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “It’s OK, Gabe,” I whispered. “It’s really her.” “She was dead!” Gabe growled. Sister Agnes raised an eyebrow at Gabe’s outburst, her smile never wavering. “I can assure you that I am very much alive,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming. “Come now, my dear children, let us not dwell on such details. We have a job to do, after all.”