Book On My Honor Novels & Stories

Claire brings a huge cake, decorated with dinosaurs and books. "Aunt Claire!" the boys run to hug her. Alex hugs me from behind as we watch the scene. "Happy?" he asks. "At peace," I answer. My new book rests on the table: "Hidden Truths - How Silence Almost Won". In the dedication, a simple message: "For Oliver and Noah, Who taught me that the best stories are those we have the courage to tell. And for Claire and Sarah Bennett, Who showed us the price and value of truth." "SOPHIA HAWTHORNE LEADS BESTSELLERS LIST: 'Hidden Truths' Revolutionizes the Publishing Market"

One bottle of red, slightly dusty, aged just enough to make me feel like I had good taste. Back upstairs, I stripped. All the way down. Even the underwear, because honestly, why not? Then, without thinking, I pulled out my comfort shirt. You know the one. Extra large. Faded logo. Torn at the collar. Maybe once belonged to an ex, maybe I bought it at a Goodwill. Who knows? It's mine now. I curled up on my bed, remote in one hand, wine glass in the other. My night was officially on. And nothing says solo comfort like blood, chaos, and Drew Barrymore answering a creepy phone call.

I roared at her, panic making me feel nervous about Celia’s rapid loss of blood. But Isadora did not want to listen. “You talk about honor as if it is a thing that wins wars and kingdoms. Let me tell you what brings victory to someone, dear prince. It is death. You kill the other party in a war to win it. There is no other way.” She said and I blindly turned around and grabbed that book of dark in my hand. It was rattling and fuming due to the intense heat coursing through it. It had dents and had been chipped away due to the rough handling at multiple spots.

“I officially hate him.” I looked down at the book in my hands, my fingers tracing the worn leather cover as I stared at the silver wolf carved into the center. Beneath it were three faded golden words that seemed almost too fitting for the place I was in. Blood. Beasts. Bonds. I swallowed and carried the book over to the nearest table, where Rigina dropped into a chair with a tired groan before pulling the book toward her. “Let’s get this over with before that idiot comes back and finds another reason to insult you.”

Survivors are reading it to understand what accountability from their perpetrators might actually look like. Six months after publication, the book wins an award for business ethics writing. Dominic accepts the award in front of a crowd of people and he talks about what it cost to write the book. He talks about putting himself out there as someone who hurt people and spent years becoming accountable. He talks about the specific vulnerability required to write something this honest.

But on the shelf directly beside it, three books had been pulled slightly forward from the rest—the unconscious habit of someone repeatedly reaching for them. I read the spines. Criminal Law: Principles and Cases. Forensic Evidence in Modern Prosecution. Michigan State Statutes — Student Edition. I stood very still. Mae Lawson wasn’t reading for pleasure. Mae Lawson was researching. I heard Mrs. Pembrook’s chair shift behind me. “Miss Sinclair.” Her voice had changed—less surprised now, more cautious. “Those books were requested by one of our scholarship students this week. They’re reserved.” I turned.

He insisted on going there with me, so I let him. I spent hours going from one book about magic to the next. There was no other way to describe what was happening. It was magic, simple. “What are you doing?” I heard Alpha Moretti call out, making me jump in my skin. I slammed the book I was holding closed, although there wasn't any need for that considering the numerous books that were sprawled out on the table with their titles on display. His eyes settled on the biggest book there, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment. “The Art of Magic,” the topic read.

Since it was still 7am in the morning I was in my class with only Three Classmates of mine there as classes starts by 8am. I was sitting on my usual Seat in front the class in the middle row, I was holding a five hundred paged novel in hand, it was titled ' My Hero ' it was written by one of the Most Talented Writers in Town. I haven't started Reading the book yet, as I recently borrowed it from the school library during prep time yesterday. As I am a final year student, the Library Prefect which happened to be one of my classmates didn't want me to Borrow the book as she claimed that I was supposed to be studying for my Exams.

Wait, why hasn't he busted me for being out of school campus without supervision? "Star Lore: Myths, Legends, and Facts, by William Tyler Olcott it's a great book. It's an easy read for a clever girl like you. I've noticed that you have quite a passion for my class." I take the book from his hands and look through some of its pages. It does look interesting and easy to read. By some miracle, my hands don't shake while I look through the book. I look at my professor. "Thanks, Professor Strauss." He smiles shyly.

“Since you’re back, are you going to pick the next book?” I blinked. “Me?” “Of course,” she said, smiling. “You’ve been gone. You deserve the honor.” Everyone nodded expectantly. I looked down at the stack of books on the table, my fingers brushing across their covers. My hand paused on a novel about love, identity and societal expectations. This book will give them a glimpse of what I passed through during my absence. I smiled softly. “How about this one?” Brent groaned. “Oh no, not another depressing tragedy. Can’t we read something with a hopeful romance?”