Angela Davis Books Novels & Stories

Grace's POV I don't know what angel had sent Davis out of the house today, but I was the happiest person when he left this morning for some important business, as he told Helen. I have been searching for a way to leave with my baby girl, but the beast has been spending more time with my daughter than any other thing. I didn't wait for him to leave before I began to search for a way to leave this house without anyone finding out. For the past four days, I have been searching the in and out of the mansion.

he said and Mr Garcia nodded as he also wanted to find out if his wife knew about the pregnancy and who was responsible. "Now start talking?" he said with a frown as soon as Davis left and Mrs Garcia looked at him with pitiful eyes. Inside one of the wards, Davis was with Camila asking her questions to know what happened and clues to who could be behind it. "I applied for some jobs online and I was called for an interview which I attended online and they offered me the job which came with an apartment," she narrated and showed him some emails she had received earlier.

Angelas laughing too. "Yeah, cause Pop-pop is gonna let that happen." She looks around Ant to Dane and notices me. "Anthony Michael! You're a rude ass. Hi, I'm Angela, Jacob's wife. Since these two have seemed to lose every drop of manners," She swats Ant on the shoulder as she steps out of the doorway and down the steps to reach out her hand to shake mine. "And all that noise coming from the house is JJ, our son." I can't help but laugh. She glares at Dane and Ant as we shake hands. "Nice to meet you. I'm Vivian or you can call me Vi."

“So how did it happen? How did they still use her?” Angela looked away. Her fingers worried at her napkin, tearing little strips off the edge. “The night before she passed, they sent me home early. Said she’d asked for quiet, for privacy. But I never believed that. When I came back…” Her eyes glossed. “She was gone. And so were her journals.” Elijah’s head dropped into his hands. “Journals?” “She kept them in a drawer by her bed,” Angela said. “She wrote almost every night. Notes, memories, sometimes just letters to you. She wanted you to have them. But when I walked in after” her voice broke “ the drawer was empty.”