Books Like Untouchable Novels & Stories

Baby doll. My heart gave a violent throb in my chest. Why the hell did he call me that? No. No. I absolutely hated the way my starved body reacted to that name. I should not be liking it. It shouldn't make me feel like a protected princess standing before her king. The Knox brothers were not kings who showered women with love and pampering; they were predators. "Listen to me, you three. I am not coming back for that trash. It is not useful to me, and I can always get better ones in the market if I ever need one," I spat. I turned on my heels and marched toward the door without waiting for a response.

I said carefully. “There’s a first time for everything,” he winked. “I trust you, Miss Brooks.” And then, gently—like a whisper over the rim of his wineglass—he added, “Don’t feel guilty. Just focus on living a happier life. You’ve already spent enough of it surviving.” Something stirred inside me. Something quiet and aching. For a long time, I thought the only person who could make me feel seen like that was Elliot. But now, it was Mr. Ivory who had reached into the cracks of me and said: You deserve better.

I touch its glass cover and to my surprise, it vanishes in just a snap. The book floats mid-air and emits blinding light. It starts glowing and the pages start to turn. A few moments afterward, the pages stop turning. The glow starts to vanish, and the book moves toward my hand. Just like the book I was reading earlier, it has a leather hardbound cover and its title are embroidered with gold. 'The Untold' I said as I've read the title. I turn the cover and start reading once again. ----- THIRD PERSON’S POINT OF VIEW

And I stumbled upon it by accident. At the time, I was digging deep online until I finally came across one article among the many that supported Eva’s father and covered up his crimes with the charitable activities and contributions he did. In that one article, Eva’s father’s crimes and the corruption of the Margot family were exposed, in great detail and with complete clarity. It was truly horrifying. Unfortunately, shortly after I finished reading it, the article was removed. It was as if the author knew I was reading it. And as if the author was afraid the article would become famous.

Every step echoed with memories: childhood games on the lawn, teenage arguments in the study, the night of the paper vows when he’d watched Damien stand beside his mother and felt the world tilt. Elena waited in the study—not the living room, not the dining hall. The study. Dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes that smelled of dust and old money, a single desk lamp throwing long shadows across the Persian rug. No staff. Door closed behind him with a soft, final click that sounded like a verdict.

Wilson placed a bowl of oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and warm ginger tea in front of me. "Why is her breakfast different from ours?" Daniel asked, his gaze suddenly locking onto me. Mrs. Wilson nervously explained that I wasn’t feeling well and needed a light diet. The door bell rang before Daniel could ask another question. Mrs. Wilson immediately realised rushed out to get it. A man probably in his early forties entered carrying a briefcase. Daniel immediately stood and led him into his study. "I think that's a lawyer." Rachael said smugly, once they had disappeared. I ignored her and continued eating.

Crystals flared as scribes and messengers recorded the scene. I ignored them. I stood barefoot on the cold stone, facing the two people who had shaped my life more than anyone else. “This is everything,” I said evenly. “Nothing left but my underwear. If Alpha Vane and Luna Sandra still think I’m hiding something, they’re welcome to search me themselves.” Lycus’s face blanched. His eyes were fixed on my back. He must be reliving the cellar again, the blood, and the way I’d flinched from even a gentle touch.

I know it's not the best gift, but given our friendship, I hope you don't mind. I had thought long and hard about it, and I decided I didn't want to be buried with my parents and Fred. I couldn't face them. I didn't like the cold, damp ground either—I much preferred the warm, green forests of the mountains. Before I left, I glanced back at Keith's trembling figure in the kitchen. He was still such a soft-hearted crybaby. I stepped out of his apartment complex and into the bustling streets. The freezing winds and dark clouds seemed to have passed, and the warm sunlight felt soothing on my skin.

Untouchable. Only he knew she wasn’t wearing anything under that dress. Every time his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back, she’d give him a tiny, secret smile. During dinner she kept her hand on his thigh under the table, nails digging in whenever he tried to speak. By the time the auction started, he was half-hard and counting down the minutes until they could leave.

"It was just sex, Raquel. It didn't mean anything. How can you throw away our marriage over something so trivial when I've built this life for you?" The arrogance of it, the sheer, breathtaking arrogance, stole my breath. Then it ignited something darker. A heavy textbook sat on his nightstand. Principles of Life. Appropriate, since he had none. I snatched it up. It was heavier than I expected, solid in my hands. "Trivial?" My voice dropped to a deadly calm. "You think betrayal is trivial?" "Put that down, Raquel. Don't be dramatic…" I swung. Not a slap. A full-armed, two-handed swing with the weight of every broken promise, every humiliating moment in that hotel room, behind it.