Novel & Cerita Beneath Your Beautiful Book

How can he waste everything? He decided to leave. " I just need fresh air, excuse me!", he uttered and passed between them. --- Lucy and Gale, we're both quiet. Gale's eyes were studying her movement. He quickly ran to catch her when she suddenly falls while reaching the book on the shelves. They're inside his library and Lucy offered to clean it.

Cars coasted through puddles left by an earlier drizzle, and storefront lights spilled out onto the sidewalks like amber veins. Celeste stepped out of the corner bookstore, her arms full with a new read and a warm drink. Her charm bounced softly at the end of her bag, catching a glint of neon light as she turned down the next block. She kept her head low, her pace casual. The crowd helped her disappear. That was part of why she liked it here—being no one in particular. Across the street, a black car pulled up and slowed to a stop in front of a private entrance only a few knew existed.

Falling should’ve felt loud. Screaming. Wind. Chaos. But the plunge into the darkness beneath the facility was silent—too silent. It was like being swallowed by a void that didn’t need sound to terrify you. Damien’s hand was clamped around mine, his grip desperate, nails digging into my skin as if he feared letting go meant losing me forever. The darkness swallowed everything, but after a few seconds, a strange, soft blue glow appeared below—like bioluminescent water. We hit it hard, except it wasn’t water. It was thicker, like gel or mist that held us before slowly lowering us to a solid surface.

Emily’s Point of View For years I grieved children I thought were buried in ashes . Yesterday the truth did not whisper, it crashed into me like a storm ,my babies are alive. My babies did not perish in the fire ten years ago . The thought alone is enough to glue me to the bed long after the sun has clawed its way into the sky. Golden light streams through the tall windows of my penthouse, catching on the white silk curtains I never bothered to draw shut last night. The room feels too bright, too loud, too alive for a heart that has just relearned how to hope.

In fact I needed him to be back to life just so I could kill him again, slower this time. But I did not have powers like that so ii guess I’ll just keep on brooding. And now some idiot decided it was the best idea to send Kennedie some tacky flowers and a goddamn love note. Even now a week later, and I was still looking at that note like it was out to get me. You are perfect Kennedie, and even these flowers could never match up to your radiant beauty. -G What sort of a tacky note was that? I mean we had advanced so far in the world and there was someone who was out here still thinking that secret admirers were still a thing.

****** Special request if you like the book, share it to at least five friends who you think will love it❤️ As always pardon the grammatical errors

Behind the brush, a woman lay trapped, her leg mangled in the bear trap I'd set. She was beautiful in that raw, wild way—blonde curls tangled across her face, black turtleneck stained with sweat and blood. Her eyes, though—sharp, almost defiant beneath the pain. "Please," she whispered. "Help me." I ran. Grabbed the key. Unlocked the trap with shaking hands. She gasped, clutching her leg. "What the hell was that doing out here?" she said, half-laughing through the pain. "Well, you see…nowhere is really safe these days" I replied, slipping an arm around her waist. "You have to protect yourself somehow."

It was daring without being vulgar, sophisticated without being stuffy. The slit up the side fell just high enough to bare one leg with every step, dangerously close to being scandalous but somehow still tasteful. The placement was perfect—high enough to be alluring, low enough to maintain an air of mystery. Each time I took a breath, the fabric moved like water, whispering against my thighs with a sound that was almost musical. I felt beautiful. Not cute. Not passable. Not “pretty enough.” Beautiful and hot.

She had everything under control. At least, she thought she did. Far from the glamour, behind the doors of privilege and pride, fate had just made its next move. And soon, a girl from Loven Street would walk into her world not with riches or reputation, but with something far more dangerous. Hope.

It's called: Sweet treachery. by Penaciousshewa. And help leave a review on her book. Thanks a lot! Author note