Book Elena Gilbert Novels & Stories

Every man that walked through the pink walls of her room had used just their fingers and it'd hurt her, but they were nothing compared to the redhead man. That day, after he'd used his pinky finger, he used his thumb, then he put two fingers. The hurt that came from his middle after he'd offed his trouser in a rush made little Ele scream till she was sure her throat would fall off. Little Ele had cried for mercy and had gotten none. Instead, her aunt bathed her and told her she was lucky to be a woman at five. When she turned 13 she was taken into the business fully. Little wonder how Elena knew how psycho's think, she'd lived with one all her life before she managed to flee, but he was diff

Gabriel said and put an end to that conversation by standing up. ★★★ “Milady, where are you going?” Rihana asked who had been waiting for Elsa along with Johana, who was busy sewing a flower on a cloth. “Wandering! Do you know any place where I can go and enjoy the peace?” Elsa asked. At the time Rihana noticed lady Elsa had something in her hand that she was hiding behind her back. “Milady, what is that in your hand?” Rihana inquired with a smile. “Eh, nothing,” Elsa said and brought the book from behind and continued, “A book!! I've found it in His Grace's room. Maybe it is about the ruler of our kingdom. So... I want to read.”

To say that blood could remember even when people were forced to forget. Instead, she said, “I am dealing with some family matters.” It was not a lie. It was not enough. Lillian nodded slowly. “If you ever want company,” she said, “you know where to find me.” The kindness in it hurt more than suspicion would have. That night, Elena sat alone in her childhood room at Celestine Heights. The room had been preserved with care. Too much care. Everything curated. Everything safe. Everything false. She opened the locked drawer again.

Thousands of leather-bound books lined the walls, perfectly categorized by height and color. At the end of the hall, two men in tailored black suits stood still by an arched doorway. They didn't look at us. I looked at Elena walking beside me. She was acting like a gracious host giving a tour of a summer home. L Part of me hated her. I looked at her soft smile and saw a quiet, cowardly kind of cruelty. She knew the agony I was in. She knew Ryan was out there destroying the city to find me. Yet, she was perfectly willing to keep me locked in this gilded cage to ensure her own safety.

"I found another one. In my gym bag. A silk ribbon. Red." Elena slowly stood up, turning to face him. She didn't look down. She looked him right in the eye, her expression one of calculated innocence. "The laundry can be so messy, sir. Things get misplaced." Elias reached out, his hand wrapping around her throat, not to choke, but to anchor her. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. "Stop lying. I know it's you. I've smelled that scent on you for weeks. I see you watching me from the shadows. You want me to notice you? You want me to see the person who's been haunting my head?"

"I just… I was on stage, and then—boom!—I woke up here. It doesn't make any sense." Kiara's breath hitched as recognition dawned. This woman wasn't just anyone. She was Elena Gilbert, a world-famous rock star. "You're Elena Gilbert!" Kiara exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. Elena's eyes widened. "You… you know me?" Kiara nodded quickly, her excitement momentarily eclipsing the surreal situation. "Yes! I've listened to all your songs! But…" She glanced around, the weight of their surroundings pressing in on her. "This is insane. What are the odds of us both ending up here?"

The sound of a pan hitting the stove echoes like a cymbal. “Elena?” I call. “I’m sorry, what?” she says, reappearing with a wooden spoon like she’s ready to fight. “Eleanor Montclair called you?” “Yep. Apparently she says I’ve got four months to lock Gabriel down.” “What?” “She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t care how you do it, even if it means trapping him with a baby, Gloria.’” Elena stares at me with her mouth open in shock. “That’s… I don’t even, what the hell kind of villain behavior is that?”

It was genuine — surprised out of him. “You’re not trying to charm me, are you?” “No.” “Good. Because it’s working.” She didn’t smile back. That night, Elise returned to her bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small leather notebook. Not pink. Not monogrammed. Just black, unmarked. She wrote one name at the top of the first page: Elena Cruz And beneath it, a line in ink: Let him believe. Let him want. Let him fall.