Novel & Cerita Book Woman's Daughter

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

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."

I gritted out trying to reign my anger, making my father raise an eyebrow. "Go on?" He said. "He has abused his half daughter." I let out in a very angry tone. Clenching my fists to try and control my anger. "Half daughter?" He asked with furrowed brows. Right, I forgot that no one knew about that. "Yes, half daughter. Lady Nyx is his half daughter. And he has been whipping her. Her back is so scared from it. It is Horrendous.*" I let out more anger than I had intended. My father raised his eyebrows in understanding.

The library is dark—lit only by the moon, with books piled on the floors as opposed to shelves. The scent of dust mixed with books floods my mind with memories of my days here, of how I would run from the world to hide here, in books, where maids working under the queen would find me and spill mop water on me. There was none I could run to; mother never reacted well to news regarding the queen, so I set some books on fire and blamed them to get back at them. They were fired, but more replaced them…and the cycle continued. Being a ‘gold diggers’ daughter is one thing; claiming to be without a wolf and being the homewrecking gold digger’s daughter is another.

Everything felt so impossible: studying, thinking clearly, kissing Asher on top of the Ferris Wheel… Straightening, I snapped my book closed. I’d come to the library to be free of distractions, but maybe some distractions were what I needed, to keep my mind off Asher. With a sigh, I decided to try studying at the coffee shop instead. As I gathered my books to leave, a vaguely familiar older woman walked into the library. She had a purse instead of a book bag, so likely wasn’t a student. She searched among the stacks and study areas. When a librarian approached her, she said, “I’m looking for my daughter.”

asked the sexy girl angrily " Honey, this is not what you think. I don't know this girl. She entered my room suddenly. I think he's one of the employees at this hotel. Let us call the manager. I want to check up on this girl." Before he finished talking, the old woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes said " No, she is not the employee. If she is the employee she will not dress like this. I know who you are. You are the daughter of Mr. Ward Bowman, Shana Ward. " smirk the old woman. " Yes, I am. But who are you? " answer Shana nervously. "Oh, so you are the daughter of the famous businessman." Her question was not answered, instead, it was answered with another statement.

Versions where I had more control over what came after. This was not a soft version. This was Isabella looking at me with the specific quality of stillness that meant she’d already arrived at the answer and was waiting for me to confirm it. She’d always done that. Asked questions she already knew the answer to. My daughter had been reading rooms and people and situations since before she could fully articulate what she was reading. I had always been proud of that. I had always been terrified of it too. “How long,” she said again. Quiet. Steady. The voice of a woman who had been carrying impossible things for seven months and had not broken and was not going to break now regardless of what I

He turned to survey the vicinity. A woman - who was getting frustrated, was pointing at a colour book to her daughter who had no interest, “I said pink.” Not far from the woman and her daughter was a family - the mother and two daughters having ridiculously large dotted bows hanging from their light brown hair making them look like gifts waiting to be unwrapped. The father was picking books on arithmetic for them with a scowl on his face.

"Welcome back, sister. We've been waiting for you to wake up." Here, in this family with no shared blood, I felt a warmth I hadn't known in years. I slowly sat up, feeling the strength returning to my body. "Mom," my voice was calm and firm, "from this day forward, Alessia Moretti is dead." "I am your daughter." The moment the words left my lips, I felt a sense of release I had never known. The girl who humbled herself for her family, the woman tormented by poison, the daughter wronged by her loved ones. She was dead.