Book Woman's Daughter Novels & Stories

Nothing about it felt right. When the old woman met my eyes, there was a fire so hot I could feel it against my skin.“No one could tell me what happened to my daughter. They said it was rouges. But the wind whispers, and the water holds memory. And when I stepped into that pond with my daughter's body ready to send her to the goddess, Nightshade was the only name I heard.” My wolf stores inside my chest, and a rock rolls in the pit of my stomach. The queen.

“He didn’t just sell your son. He sold your mother’s life to pay his debts. Now, hand over the book—or we kill them both, right here.” June gripped the book so tight her knuckles hurt. This book could save Dante. It could give her back her life, her son. But if she used it, her mother—the woman she thought was dead—would really die. She glanced up at the hospital window. Dante was inside, helpless. Her father sobbed at the door. She was a wife. A mother. A daughter. But she could only save one. June stared at the man in white, then down at the book. The world pressed in, heavy and cold. She stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper, cold as ice.

"You're nothing. Your mother is nothing. Everyone knows your branch of the family is the weakest." "Please, Charlotte." Another voice, younger, trembling. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to read—" "You wanted to read?" A cruel laugh. "Since when do pathetic little mice like you deserve to touch the same books as me?" I moved closer to the door, which stood slightly ajar. Through the gap, I could see two girls. The older one was perhaps fifteen, with sharp features and cold eyes. Charlotte. Lord Edmund's daughter, if I remembered correctly from what Rosie had told me. Diana's child.

"What are you talking about..." Mom forced a smile. "I'm sick. How am I supposed to think about this right now..." "You could give Sophie twenty grand while you're sick. Why can't you give me six?" I didn't back down. "I'm your daughter too. Shouldn't we be treated the same?" Aunt Nora cleared her throat. "Marlene, you really gave Sophie twenty thousand?" "That was... that was..." Mom's face went pale. "It was for Sophie's future. I just gave it to her early—"

"So tired. If I disappear one day, will anyone even notice?" My father's knees hit the floor. The notebook slipped from his hands. His back bent like a hollow shell. My mother crawled over and picked it up. She read one page and broke down crying. "What have we done..." My father's voice was shattered. The Guard watched in silence. He nodded to his colleague. "Mr. Vance, you are being detained on suspicion of negligent homicide." In the interview room, my father sat motionless. "Based on the scene and the healer's report, your daughter died from internal bleeding caused by blunt force trauma." The Guard pushed photos across the table. Close-ups of the forging table corner. "What happened?"

And here he was, doing it himself—no Leo, no aide—picking up his daughter from some dingy, unnoticeable bookstore. A whim. That's what he kept telling himself. He had completed a brutal acquisition call an hour early. Instead of driving to his penthouse to stare into the same glass of stale scotch, he told his assistant to cancel dinner tonight and turned the car around. His daughter was more valuable than his sporadic and hollow "I love yous." This was an attempt—a cold, awkward one—to reach for something real again. He hadn't expected the street to be so quiet. Julian's eyes scanned the tiny shop wedged between a boutique flower store and a yoga studio. **Chapter & Soul**. The title glowed

Vashti flashed Anna a warning stare just before distracting Esther by changing the conversation. “Take this back to Shushan,” Vashti handed the book to Esther. “It documents everything I told you earlier, including my escape, the deception about my pregnancy, and everything you need to convince your people to accept Adara as their queen. I titled the book Vashti’s Daughter, because it’s as much your story, Adara, as it is mine.” When Anna heard the title, she was stunned. “May I see it, please?” Esther handed the book to Anna. It was heavier than she thought it would be when Vashti first showed to her at the cabin. The book cover was made of thick leather with parchment pages tightly bound t

She looked down, clearing her throat. The woman opened both books on the draw leaf table before her, displaying their pages in the flickering light. She told Richard to lay his palms on each of them, and to concentrate on his daughter, his Katelyn Jane Franklin, to fill his every thought with her, as if that were not already true.

What more did she want from me? My father, Brian Larson, sat by the side of the bed and sighed. "We spoiled her too much. I knew we shouldn't have kept her from the beginning. The fortune teller said that only Summer would bring us luck and that Sienna would only cause us misfortunes. If we had abandoned or killed her when she was born, things would've been much easier. My father's expression was so murderous that I truly believed that if I were there next to him, he would have choked me to death.

A procession of somber figures in black filed in. At the forefront was a woman with silver-streaked hair, clutching a photo in a black frame. The girl in the picture beamed, her smile as bright as Evelyn's. "My daughter, Melody Rogers, was Frank's student, too," the woman's voice broke. "He conned her into stealing my credit card and transferring him thirty-four thousand five hundred bucks. Once he had the money, he dumped her. Overwhelmed, she jumped from a building last year. She was just nineteen."