Disgrace Novel Summary Novels & Stories

She heard someone scream her name before blacking out. . . Fred had forgotten his wallet in the washroom together with his phone. He had realized soon enough and came back to get it. He had seen Ruth raise a bottle to drink. He realized too late that it was poison she took. He saw her slumped to the floor and screamed. He quickly carried her to the car and rushed her to the hospital. . .

We watched her tears of despair, her faraway look as she repeated out loud the first time someone sexually harassed her, at the age of 14. Fortunately, Veronica Vacchiano put an end to her and Sofia Grace's selfish plans. In my corner, alone, silent and sipping a glass of champagne, I watched from a box seat as the evil being in high heels, as Carina “cursed” daily, brought down and slaughtered those unfortunates. Inside, I felt somehow avenged and happy, although any taste of victory was replaced by pain and disappointment when Arabella asked Grace to leave with her. Sofia Grace did not hesitate to accept the hand extended to her and, like a couple from horror tales, they disappeared.

After years of saving and scrumping, I bought a small lot, a place my family didn't know about because their betrayal came so suddenly. Now, it was about to become my sanctuary. I reached the parking lot, thanking the heavens I didn't sign the papers for the lease a week ago. “Going somewhere, miss?” I heard a catcall, an obvious disrespect I never thought would happen in such a place. I ignored him, moving faster but my shoes impaired me. I bent down to take them off when I got a hit from behind. Pak! My butt cheeks throbbed in pain, the impact making me stumble forward. I fell flat on my face, bruising my forehead.

“Alfred did not lose his freedom because of my pride. He lost it because he murdered people and laundered money and kept a secret family for thirteen years and thought he would never have to answer for any of it because he had me standing next to him smiling for cameras and making it all look clean.” Grace’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. “I was not his wife,” I said. “I was his cover. And I am done.” Grace stood there on my doorstep and for the first time in all the years I had known her she had nothing to say. Her mouth closed. Her grip on her handbag went white at the knuckles. Her eyes glassed over but her chin stayed up because Grace Cole would not cry on a doorstep and we both knew it

Sweat slid from his temple. "The sad part," I said, looking into his eyes, "is that she waited, and you never came. You took Vivian Miller, the town councilman's daughter, to New York instead. You used my grandmother's scholarship documents, her life story, and her name. You became a Columbia professor. Vivian became the brilliant artist who escaped coal country." I lifted my hand and pointed at the woman beside him. "The real Grace Walker was left in that town and shamed for the rest of her life. That woman is not Grace. Her name is Vivian Miller."

I was the reason he ascended to a rank that would otherwise have been possible in his lifetime. Was he going to have to beg shamelessly? To be mocked and ridiculed by the same people he used to trample over? All it took was a couple of setbacks for his already meager flame to be reduced to all but a pathetic wisp of smoke. I had been too good to him. I always believed my sincerity would be rewarded. In the end, all I did was let the two vermin take advantage of me. They were freeloaders through and through. Elena went on with a faint tinge of helplessness in her voice, "As for Miss Elena… She seems quite displeased with the way things have turned out.

she whispered, voice raw. Lena sat across from her, eyes wet. “We’re so sorry.” “Don’t be.” Grace tried to wipe her face but it didn’t help. “I lost him a long time ago. I just didn’t know about it until tonight.” She told us everything, hands shaking around the mug of tea Eleanor gave her. Every time she mentioned the way he looked at her when he disowned her, her voice would break again. “He kept me completely in the dark. He let me think he was just this successful guy building something good.” She let out a bitter laugh through the tears. “Meanwhile he was drowning in all this hate.”

Dad has been nursing her at the hospital for the past five years, and the Charlie Mansion is just too empty without my precious sister, which is why I have moved to her workshop, which is also her burial ground. I had made the workshop just like she wanted because I owe her that much. I should at least protect her dreams since I failed to protect her. Her grave lay at the center of the apartment, and I feel closer to her, more like she is still with me whenever I wake up and see her grave. I care for her grave myself; I don't even let Zack near her. Although Dad had saved me from being killed, I still cannot forgive him for being late and getting her killed. We never wanted this life, and he

She didn't interfere whenever I used her card to frequent upscale restaurants and hotels, though she'd occasionally call to complain when I spent a bit too much. "Do you not have ambition at all? You're spending a woman's money. Where's your dignity?" Dignity? Wasn't that crushed long ago by her entire family? Eventually, after I blew through eight million dollars in one go, Rosalie finally called and demanded I return it. I looked at the scenery flashing past the window and quietly sneered. The eight-million-dollar urn was already shattered. There was no returning it. This was Rosalie's and Mona's retribution.

"Fond of lapping? Go on," Pauline said. "Get down and lick every trace of that wine." "Miss Castro..." One quivered, terror overwhelming him. "We were wrong. Please..." "Too late." Pauline truncated his plea. "Do it or rot in prison. Your choice." Before absolute power, pride and honor were meaningless. They exchanged hopeless glances and got down on their knees. Shaking, they pressed their faces into the cold carpet, which was full of broken glass and spilled wine.