Elena Gilbert Diary Novels & Stories

But she still stays in this mansion, hasn't been married yet, so it's not known that people make fun of her, such scorn, no one can bear it. What should I do if Ellen Laura thinks she can't understand the child in her belly? She is still waiting to hold her grandson. There was a big movement outside, seeing the eldest daughter running in to spread the word was the other little girl, without any rules ran in and shouted, just heard her say: "Old lady, it's not good, Ellen Laura. The letter jumped in the river." The words were not finished, An old lady took a breath of displeasure, tilted her head, and fell unconscious.

I reach out and grab the journal, trying to steady my trembling hands as I read the words written on the yellowed pages. "The Diary of Cassian Devin." My fingers trace the words, feeling the weight of the revelation sink in. Cassian Devin? That's a journal written by The First Vampire who looks the same as me!? I lift the journal from the desk as my eyes scan the elegant handwriting that fills the lines of the current page the journal was open to. Dear Diary, Today is the 10th day since Eleanor had left me behind. I still can't find our baby Danielle. All, I could find were ashes near my Eleanor's bloody body which once used to be warm and vibrant.

She described him as a kind and gentle soul who made her heart skip a beat. The words were filled with a sense of longing and desire that Eleanor could feel in her bones. She wondered who the author was writing about and what had happened between them. The more she read, the more she felt like she was invading someone else's privacy, but she couldn't help but feel drawn to the story. She had to know how it ended. And when Eleanor read further, she discovered the author was writing about the alpha. Did this diary belong to the Luna?

Chapter 58: The Unbroken Horizon The wind was blowing hard across the valley making the big windows of the library shake.. Inside everything was calm and quiet. The big fireplace was putting out a lot of heat. It smelled like wood. Elena was sitting at a table working on her laptop. She had a lot of papers and books spread out around her like old records from the harbor and a diary that belonged to Thomas Miller. She had taken all these things and put them into her computer so now they were a part of her story.

Elena’s eyes had sold her out. “Are you going to keep up the lies, Elena?” Elena bit her lips and her shoulders slumped as she trembled all over. Maia took the book on the desk and tossed it at her feet. “Do you know who owned this book?” Maia saw that Elena was silent. So, she continued, “Celia loved this book the most. She used it as a diary. I want you to take a look at the two pages that fell out and feel the despair she experienced back then!”

“No. This place was kept secret.” “Then how did Walter know he was in danger?” Damon asked. Elena’s expression darkened slightly. “He discovered something he was not meant to know.” Silence filled the room. “Ginny,” Elena said quietly. The girl nodded and disappeared into another room. A few seconds later she returned carrying an old leather book. It looked worn, the edges frayed from years of use. She handed it to her mother carefully. Elena held the diary for a moment before extending it across the table.

The grandchildren and great-grandchildren filled the house with laughter, running, and life. But there was something no one knew. Something Elena had hidden before she died. The Secret Diary That afternoon, little Sofia, Elena's great-granddaughter, who had the same gray eyes as the Morettis, found a book in the basement. It was hidden behind some shelves, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was a diary, handwritten in the shaky handwriting of an elderly woman. She opened it carefully. “My dear ones: If you are reading this, it is because I am no longer here. And because someone, someday, found this diary where I hid it.

Well he deserved his death. "Oh?" I said dryly, turning my head to see the shy Mira behind the ranting old woman. She looked embarrassed about the situation and just stood there with a flushed face. "What do you mean by "oh"? Elisa Gilbert is a murderer and an adulteress." Okay this old woman was pushing it. I glanced around and noticed people were already gathering watching the show, shit. If I did things my way it would probably cause a backlash on Eli. I closed in with the old woman despite her backing away.

To say that blood could remember even when people were forced to forget. Instead, she said, “I am dealing with some family matters.” It was not a lie. It was not enough. Lillian nodded slowly. “If you ever want company,” she said, “you know where to find me.” The kindness in it hurt more than suspicion would have. That night, Elena sat alone in her childhood room at Celestine Heights. The room had been preserved with care. Too much care. Everything curated. Everything safe. Everything false. She opened the locked drawer again.

Elena Vale had kept a journal of her treatment. Not a personal journal, not the emotional kind, a medical journal, dates and dosages and symptoms and questions, written in the small precise handwriting that Seraphine remembered from birthday cards and school notes and the list her mother used to keep on the refrigerator. It was included in the complete file, scanned and attached, forty-three pages of it spanning fourteen months. Seraphine read it from the beginning.