A Fatal Grace Novels & Stories

I was too late. I should’ve been faster. I should’ve seen the handprint faster. We took too long, it’s all on me. Grace is dead because of me. “She’s breathing,” Jagger announces, and I fall on my knees next to Grace as I stroke her face, covered in bruises and tears, roll down my face. “Get the stretcher here, we need to get her to the hospital,” Jagger announces and I stay still, bending and kissing my girl softly on the lips. Her eyes flutter open for a split second and a small smile appears on her lips before she is engulfed by darkness again.

“Which means there are people who want you dead.” His silence was answer enough. Grace’s hands trembled under the table. This was it the moment she had to face the truth. Lila had warned her, her instincts had screamed it: Damien’s world wasn’t safe. Not even close. And yet… The way he looked at her, steady and sure, like she was the only real thing in a universe built of smoke and mirrors it terrified her more than any rumor. Because she wanted to believe him. She wanted him. The air between them thickened, their untouched plates cooling as silence wrapped around the table. Grace finally whispered, “I don’t know if I can survive you.”

"You're not good for him. Just die already." Grace smirked and left. Just die already.

The owner of the lamb had been killed, and to teach Grace a lesson, the lamb was thrown into the fireplace of this very dining room, where it was locked and burned alive while she listened to its cries. Her single mistake had caused five deaths, and she was solely responsible for them. Grace had cried that night, her mother patting her to sleep after witnessing the gory event at such a young age. Afterward, she had been extremely careful. Unlike Dallion, Grace had traits that made her seem more human than a bloody mafia creature when compared to her siblings. Dallion glanced at Grace, who still stared at the wall for a brief moment before resuming her meal. A faint smile appeared on her lips

she said to her “And what if your body can’t contain it? What if it is way too much for your body to handle? What would you do then?” she asked Anna “I was brought back from the dead for one reason and that is to end Phillip once and for all. If this is the way, then I have to do it!” “Anna, exposing yourself like that is dangerous and you know this. Damian would never agree to this!” Grace said to her

, I thundered. “Mother gave them to me earlier Elias, calm down”, he answered, an innocent frown in between his eyebrows. “Don't worry, she already sent a reminder to discard this particular one because it's expired”, he explained further. My vision went blur. I felt my hands and knees weaken, the pack dropping from my hands and spilling all over the floor Grace. Of course she was one of Reine's murderers. She never like Reine and was always against her. What was thinking?

Ralph. 3 days later, the private investigator contacted Mr.Ralph who was at his office thinking about his life, "Hello sir, I have done what you requested" the private investigator told Mr.Ralph, " Come to my office right now!" Mr.Ralph replied with a happy look on his face. At Mr.Ralph's office the private investigator gave a file to Mr.Ralph. Mr.Ralph opened the file, he saw Mr.welsh photo, wife photo, son photo and also saw the captain photo and his sick daughter photo and some files about them. "Mr.Welsh has a wife and a son, and his wife is also a police officer, and also the captain is married, he has a daughter who has heart disease and she need a heart transplant ASAP or she will di

But how do you warn a man in love that the woman he adores plans to end his life? Her hands trembled. Grace’s cruel intentions weren’t just venom—they were fatal. And Emilia was the only one who knew.

Adrian POV We spent the rest of the day at Elena's flat going through everything we could find about Grace and by the evening we had enough to piece together the story my father had spent his whole life running from. Grace Williams. Born 1965. Died 1995 in a car accident on the M25 on a rainy Tuesday night. My father would have been thirty years old and she would have been thirty when she died and every single photo we found of her looked exactly like Elena.