Book Woman's Daughter Novels & Stories

She was laughing at everything he said, her eyes sparkling with interest. My gaze drifted across the room, searching for something to latch onto. That’s when I saw her. In a quiet corner of the hall, away from the chaos and the drama, sat a beautiful young lady. She had glasses perched on her nose, and her head was buried in a book. It was her. My second daughter, Rose. My bookworm. Looking beautiful and all Disney coded, like a damn princess.

It made betraying her easier. But I had learned long ago that the most dangerous people were never loud. Silence was refinement. Stillness was calculation. I’d heard of Vittoria long before Stefano drove through my gates. Whispers in meetings. Mentions in intercepted conversations. The Don’s daughter who watched and never spoke. The girl who stood beside her father not as decoration, but as presence. Women raised in violence did not grow up fragile. They grew up precise. If she truly had been kept untouched, it was not purity, it was control. Christian Guerra had protected something valuable. Or volatile.

"Everyone, come take a look! This is the woman who incited her daughter to harm herself for money! She lost her job and her daughter was expelled, yet she's still hanging around! No wonder her man left her. A woman like her brings nothing but bad luck!" She grew more animated, now stepping forward to point at my daughter. "And this little liar! Raised without a father, she's already lying and cheating at such a young age! She's only gonna get worse when she grows up! I think she should be sent to juvenile prison!" "Shut your mouth!" My blood boiled, and I yelled. "I'll say what I want!" She put her hands on her hips. "If you don't want people to talk about it, don't do it, crazy woman! And t

The wise words and advices of the old man made sense to her. Outside, the rain had softened into a quiet drizzle. The old man rose from his chair. He wandered through one of the shelves before pulling out a small hardcover book bound in dark blue cloth. ts pages had yellowed with age. He placed it carefully on the counter. "It belonged to my daughter." Elara looked up. The daughter word caught something in her. Why would he give something to her? The word sounded so precious. "She loved writing," she stared at the book. It was old, wrinkled yet contained lots of emotions.

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to

Then she said the cruelest thing they had ever heard. "But your real daughter is already dead. So what now? Besides me, your fake daughter, are you going to have another kid?" They stared at her in disbelief. How could the daughter they had loved for over a decade say something so heartless? As the police led Vera away, she laughed like she'd lost her mind. She looked nothing like the girl she used to be. *** Inside the interrogation room, the kidnapper had already confessed everything. Hoping for a lighter sentence, he'd handed over all the evidence and begged for mercy.

Waylan stood up first outside the bookstore asking herself if what's in there that she couldn't stop herself from coming to that bookstore. She enters slowly but as she steps going inside she found a man sitting on the counter. She looks familiar to her and as she got near to him, she suddenly drop her bag because of shock while looking at the man. "Waylan?" the man from the counter said who is shocked also to see her daughter. Waylan can't make mistake. It was her dad who abandoned her. She suddenly picked her bag and ran away outside but her dad chase her.

She asked. "Why were you eavesdropping on our discussion?" She raised a brow. "Really? I've literally been here." "Are you sure?" "There's nothing to prove you saw me eavesdropping, Mark." "Okay," I walked close and snatched the book from her. "Heyy-" I opened the past pages which she claimed to have read. "What's the name of the butler's daughter whom was banished because of her affair with the king." She raised a brow. "Seriously?"

And as she touched it, The book opened itself. The world froze. Every breath held hostage. Every sound dulled, Because on the first page of that sealed book was Liolai’s name. Over and over again, Written in different hands. Different scripts. Some trembling. Some angry. Some loving. Each line was a version of Liolai that had died in another telling. Dozens, Hundreds, Thousands. The daughter who never lived. The daughter who was stolen. The daughter who never forgave. The daughter who turned into ink.