Mar'i Grayson 소설 & 이야기

Mary appeared in front of me, trying to intervene. "Please, stay out of this," I warned, my voice trembling with emotion. Mrs. Grey's cool voice cut through the tension. "It's alright, Mary. You may go." As Mary left, I approached Mrs. Grey's desk, where she sat calmly examining a document. "What do you want, Miss Clark?" she asked, her tone maddeningly nonchalant. "Damien is blind!" I blurted out, searching her face for any reaction. There was none.

"You don't understand what you're interrupting, Marabelle. The Blood Moon ritual would have secured our future—yours and mine." "There is no 'our' future," I said firmly, moving toward the Sacred Stone with both Maison and Jackson at my side. My voice rang out with Star’s resonance joining mine as one, “I Marabelle Daisy Graystone, with my wolf Star as one daughter of the late King Edward and Queen Isobel and sister to the late Kenneth Arthur Graystone, I call upon the Scared Stone to hear my call as the last true Graystone heir and next in line as my birthright right. Along side my true mates Alpha Maison and Alpha Jackson gifted to me by the Moon Goddess herself who had blessed our union.”

stern and cold. Besides him stood a lady in her mid forties, wearing an emerald sequenced dress. She had a huge warm smile on her face - I bowed my head deeply, acknowledging her presence. "I was tangled up in something - but I'm here now." - I answered,my voice not betraying a single emotion. "You must be his wife - it's a pleasure meeting you. You look so lovely tonight" - I smiled slightly, casually flattering the lady. "Yes, thank you. I'm Mariam and I'm flattered to meet your acquaintance" - she giggled like a shy girl in her mid twenties.

Grace’s fingers dug into the desk. She clicked on another picture—Maria sitting by a fireplace in what looked like a luxury cabin, wrapped in a blanket, holding a steaming mug of something warm. The caption: "Four days into the honeymoon, and he still won't let me lift a finger. Maybe I'll get used to this." Grace’s nails scraped against the wood. Maria was happy. Maria had won. Her vision blurred with rage. She would never accept that.

After they left, I took a car to the fake death service center. When I saw the silicone body, crafted to mirror me exactly down to the skin texture and most minor details, I couldn't help but be impressed by their skill. While I was still staring, a staff member handed me a contract. "Ms. Granger, we've booked your flight to Milanos and wiped all your identity records. The replacement is ready. On the day you chose, we'll make it fall from the banquet hall rooftop exactly as instructed. "From that moment, Elsa Granger will no longer exist—only Faith Winslow. Sign here if you're ready."

I gave her first aid and treated her. Tonight, I'll cook dinner," I stated. But you are not strong. I'm okay , Daisy, I'll prepare something easy for us. I then left before she could say anything. **************************** She was Maris Graves, one of the most highly respected women in New York. She had never imagined feeling threatened by someone as disgusting as Kate. She didn’t like Sienna, and she wasn’t fond of Kate either but right now, Kate earned her hatred far more than Sienna ever could.

He was quiet for a moment. “I’m learning,” he said. “You’ve learned,” I said. That afternoon we walked to the arts centre. My mother met us at the entrance. She had paint on her sleeve from helping a student earlier and was entirely unbothered about it. “Maria has a performance Friday,” she said. “A short piece she wrote herself.” She looked at me directly. “You’re coming.” “Of course,” I said. “Grayson,” she said. “I’ll be there,” he said immediately.

A burn of shame crawled up my throat. Zara’s eyes darted between me and Grayson. “You… work here?” I couldn’t answer. Not with the air this thick. Not with Grayson looking at me like I’d just started bleeding in the middle of a gala. But then… He stood up. Slow. Controlled. Dangerous. And everyone fell silent. Maria froze. Grayson’s eyes slid to her — cold, furious, cutthroat. “You deliberately pulled her in here,” he said, voice low, venomous. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

And I hated most of all that Zayne and his mother, Mariah Greyson, might be there too. Mariah Greyson. The woman I had once caught in my father’s bed. My father’s mistress. The wife of Connor Greyson. My father had told her he would forever find her more attractive than my mother. I had heard it all. She thought my mother was more beautiful, but my father denied it. I wished I didn’t only bump into them when I was fifteen, I wished I had also spat in her face and told her that never in her wildest dream could she find herself more beautiful than my mother. She was one heck of a seductress, undeniably beautiful, and I guessed that was how she was able to lure my father into her trap, since my