Annie's Archive Ebooks Novels & Stories

I’ve lived my life, protecting myself from the world, from disappointment, betrayal and lies, but with her, I began to bring down those walls until I didn’t even know when my feelings developed into so much more without even seeing a glimpse of her. I skim over her collection, Motorcycle Club, Mafia... Disney Villain tales… and then there are the classics that she accidentally slipped out that she reads before denying she read them. I crouch down. They may be at the bottom, but the books have been read and I can’t help but smile. Jane Eyre, Anne of Green Gables, Pride and Prejudice, The Thirteenth Tale… Smiling, I take out the first book in the Anne of Green Gables collection, remembering ho

The reflection looked broken, like a person split into pieces. I forced myself to focus on the books, straightening them into stacks. Annie’s favorite fairy tale collection. A picture book about wolves. A coloring book filled with her careful artwork. At the bottom of the pile, I found a sketchbook that had been left open. Annie’s latest drawing sprawled across the page—three stick figures holding hands in front of a house. A family. Father, mother, and child. But the mother figure had long dark hair instead of Charlotte’s short style. The mother wore a dress like the ones I preferred, and her face had been colored in with care, unlike the quickly sketched father and child.

Chelsea remarked as she walked in. Anna chuckled as she sat down on a chair, head bent over a book. "It's actually worse when you have something doing with the hands. You know what I'm saying." She got up and offered her friend a seat. She began to pack the papers and trashed them. "What have you got there, Chelsea? You are not quite the type that reads." She stretched her hands and let Anne see the golden book she was holding. Her friend gave out a loud gasp.

Now that she finally had her open happiness , It wasn't shocking that Anna was having a hard time accepting it . ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ Author's note : - Please do check out my other books ♡ ) Im - perfect ♡) your faithful poisonous consort ♡) The substitute Villainess ♡ ) Superstar chef mommy of villain and villainess ♡ ) Tumbling emotions Thank you ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Chapter 57 The following afternoon, the sun beat down bright and hot, as though daring Annie to back out of her plan. She didn’t. By noon, she had already packed her bag with a notebook, a pen, and her phone. She left the house with a carefully rehearsed excuse for her mother. “We’re doing research at the town library,” Annie said smoothly. “It’s for our Civic Education assignment.” Her mother nodded, not suspecting a thing. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“I just dozed off for, like, five minutes and I woke up to see the transfer complete on the monitor! It’s not my fault!” Anna scoffed, having to hear enough of his stupid excuses. “That’s entirely your fault. You slept while on duty and completely brought down your guard, leaving the Ministry’s archives open to any hacker. Had you not been hungover that morning from drinking too much last night, you wouldn’t have passed out and left our files exposed.” He paled. “H-How did you know I…I drank?” “I saw your credit card’s transaction history,” she simply replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

ARIA'S POV Where I got my boldness to speak to Cordelia in such a manner, I don't know. But one thing was for sure: I was no longer afraid of her. She had to be humiliated to know what humiliation feels like and to learn to behave herself. Looking at the archive between the books in my hand, I wondered why it was handwritten and what exactly it held. Walking towards the seat at the window, I sat down and began to read. A documentation that was never recorded in the history books. I had never heard or read of this in all my life, so how does this make sense? Why does Alpha Anthony have this with him? Was that his reason for building the secret library? To hide this?

He always said something to the point, without the need to beat around the bush. After that I sat on the bed and started to open all the emails that Alex sent. He said, based on the results of his investigation, my guess turned out to be right. That Aunt Anne who is in the mental hospital is the Aunt Anne I was looking for. My eyes continued to stare at the file that Alex sent. The file contains data about Anne's life history and about her family.

Instead, she went to a corner of the room where my bookshelf was and started touching the books there. "So you read," she said, stating the obvious. I couldn't resist the urge to roll my eyes. "No, I don't. I'm an illiterate who happens to be a book collector," I replied sarcastically. Carly ignored my comment and touched one book in my collection of series. "The Nancy Drew case files: playing with fire," she read out. "What's it about?"

"Most people run *from*. You feel like you're running *to*. A destination you haven't quite seen yet. An itch you can't scratch." She was describing the feeling I'd had in the guesthouse, the nameless yearning. The sense of a story waiting to be written. "How could you possibly know that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Anya placed her mug on the table with a soft click. "Because I've spent my life reading stories written in the margins. In the footnotes. In the things people leave behind." She tapped her briefcase. "I'm an archivist for a private collection. We deal in lost histories. Forgotten artifacts. The debris of other people's lives. And you, Alex, have the look of someone who h