Book Mason Novels & Stories

In his office, Jude Lim sat seething, the weight of betrayal heavy on his shoulders. Although it wasn't a literal betrayal, lying still counts as one. His hands trembled with fury as he clutched the letter from Hideous Montenegro's lawyer, each word a damning indictment of his daughter's deceit.

“What?” Again the old man erupted in low laughter. “Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me. Good luck with Caius, though.” He whistled, shaking his head then turned serious. “The book was given to me by a deabru I say around the mid fifteen hundreds, though don’t quote me. My mind is a bit fuzzy. He was a strange bird, not quite like the other deabru. This one smelled funny. I remember that. He said he’d stolen it from a great witch, her name was Lily or Laura, I can’t remember, just that it started with an L.” Laina. “What do you mean he smelled funny?”

Stacey tried to say. " Please," Mason told her. "Fine," she nodded. "Thank you, I have to go. Bye, Stace, and say hello to Aunt Jane. Tell Aunt Riley I'm gone." Mason muttered. "I will. Bye." Stacey smiled. After he left, she closed the window, the door creaked open and Riley walked in. "Are you done having fun with your prince charming?" Riley teased. "We were just talking, he just left. He said to tell you bye. What are you doing with a book and a pen?" Stacey asked after noticing it.

By then, I was smiling. The smile disappeared when I saw Mason. He sat at a table near the windows with several textbooks spread in front of him. None of them were open. He looked as if he had been sitting there for a while, pretending to study and failing at it. I considered turning around. The library doors were still behind me. I could leave, find somewhere else, and avoid whatever conversation he had clearly been waiting to have. Instead, I went to my usual corner, opened my laptop, and tried to disappear into my work.

She said, ignoring his question. Mason sat on a chair in his study room. He was reading a book that was on the table in front of him. He then heard the doorbell ring downstairs, but he didn't bother to go check who it was, because he knows that the house workers will. After a while, he heard a knock on the door to the study room which he was in. He stood up grumpily to go get it. "What is it?" He asked the maid that was standing there.

And I realized how much of my life had been performative—how often I’d lived for other people’s applause and not my own breath. At the bookstore, I met Mason. He worked the register and wore mismatched socks and oversized glasses. He didn’t recognize me—not even a flicker of suspicion in his eyes when I handed over a copy of Just Kids. He complimented my taste in books and asked if I was new in town. “Kind of,” I said, fiddling with my wallet. “Well,” he shrugged, “welcome to obscurity. It’s underrated.” We ended up chatting for fifteen minutes—about Patti Smith, poetry slams, and a nearby restaurant that served the best dumplings outside of New York. It wasn’t flirtation. Not really. It was

he said, turning back to his room. As he left, Ben sighed, watching the door shut softly behind him. “How did a boy so nice get entangled with Master?” Mason read until he couldn’t anymore. He stretched and yawned, smiling proudly at himself. He had covered enough for the day. After freshening up, Mason prepared for bed. Laying down, he shifted comfortably on the soft mattress and let himself slip into darkness. --- A creak. The sound made Mason frown in his sleep, but he slipped back into darkness.

It was dark so she fumbled her fingers along the wall until she found a switch and turned it on. Light flooded the room to reveal a space that was quite different from the rest of the mansion's sterile perfection. It was Mason's study. Now there was life here…to some extent. There were tall bookshelves filled with books on business, finance, and surprisingly, classic literature. Some were askew, clearly frequently referenced. A leather armchair sat by the window with a cashmere throw over its back to suggest that it was used for quiet reading sessions. There was a coffee mug that had the logo of his company on it on the desk and an uncapped pen lying over a stack of papers. She could even sm

Just stare at the screen like I'm seeing a ghost. "Mason," I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper. The name clearly doesn't mean anything to Caroline, but it means everything to me. Mason was the constant in our chaotic household—the one who bandaged our scraped knees, mediated our fights, and somehow managed to keep two very different boys from killing each other. On the small screen, I can see him clearly. Still straight-backed despite his age, his silver hair neatly combed, wearing a worn but well-maintained coat. But there's something haunted in his expression, and he's clutching what looks like a leather-bound book against his chest.

“Well, do you like your gift?“ She inquired Mason raised his head towards her and Amanda sucked in a wisp of air. His face was devoid of any emotion and she wondered if she had picked the wrong gift for him. Maybe he doesn't like it? She thought as her face dropped in disappointment. Mason broke into a smile a few seconds later making her look at him confusingly. “It's lovely,“ he answered her, making her mood joyful. She had gotten Calvin a black hoodie that had 'I am the best chef’ inscribed on it. And for Mason, she had gotten a collection of books on cooking recipes for him. She had made a wild guest when picking out their gifts from their characters. It was obvious that Mason liked to r