Grace Alone Book Novels & Stories

I watched as the number of viewers in the livestream abruptly surged to 100 thousand. Ben held my hand tightly and looked at me tenderly. "Kristy, I know you've always been curious about the secret my grandmother left behind. Now, the time has come. I'll tell you everything." Pulling me into his arms, he stroked my slightly protruding belly with reluctance. Then, he leaned close to my ear and softly whispered the secret. By the time I realized what I had just heard, it was already too late. My tears reacted faster than my mind. I stared at Ben in horror, trembling violently.

The real owner of the wardrobe must have bore a lot of semblance with her for her to have conveniently felt comfortable with her clothes and shoes. When Ms Gracey saw her radiance and elegance, she couldn't help but to see her as an angel. Lily is looking very beautiful. Justin arrived and before stepping out of the room, Ms Gracey held Lily's hand "Lily, I am sorry I can't bring myself to answer your question. Kayden had concealed the memory and if he gets to know I did otherwise, guess what punishment he would give me?" she was talking in a whisper. Lily narrowed her brow slightly, it's a secret then or an unpleasant memory. "No worries Ms Gracey" she smiled, assuring her of her understand

" I did not turn back. I stepped out of the detention center. Outside, the sun was shining just right. I raised my hand to block it, like I was blocking out all those dark, damp memories. I left her and the past behind for good. … I bought a bunch of old books and newspapers. High school textbooks, math, physics, chemistry workbooks, and some really worn-out college textbooks. I knew my chance was coming. The SAT was waiting for me. In my previous life, I was lost. I was busy with Shirley's career and working hard for our home.

Plaque! "Uncle better not come here again!" threatened Grace after one of her slaps landed perfectly on Paul's left cheek. She then left there to enter her house. "Grace! Open the door! We're not done talking yet!" She didn't care at all about Paul who kept screaming her name. Because for now she just wants to be alone. Even though Grace actually hates being alone. The only person Grace needs right now is Al and no one else. But Grace doesn't know where the man is. So she could only lean her body behind the cold door and Paul also kept knocking non-stop. "I need you, Al." *****

I am in the bed. I am alone. I know I'm alone not because no one is there but because of the specific quality of the aloneness — the kind that exists when you understand that no one is coming. Not soon. Not tonight. Maybe not at all. The kind of alone that isn't situational but structural, the kind that tells you something true about the architecture of your life. I had asked them to call the family. The nurse had called. My mother had said she'd try to get there.

Grace shook her head, Oh God, what did the man do to her virgin mind? She remembered the tale, coming to life before her eyes…Grace was now a part of it, deeply integrated, though she was someone other than herself. Eventually. A puzzle piece slid into place. The book could have been the catalyst. Maybe, when she’d read aloud, she’d somehow opened a doorway from her world into this one. Maybe James had somehow sent the book to her, and she was his only wish for freedom.

I stepped back inside to understand what was going on, and before I could say a word, Camella's silhouette appeared, and I could swear that an angel had fallen at that minute. She was the perfect epitome of beauty, and I could swear I never knew a human could be as beautiful and gracious as that, at least not until I met Rita. I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate her. Her features were delicate, her eyes pools of shimmering warmth that radiated kindness and understanding. Her hair cascaded in gentle waves around her face, framing features that seemed almost too perfect to be real. She had a crop top and bum short on, and her hairs were dangling loosely upon the apron.

Only by clutching these objects tightly could he find a semblance of peace in his sleep. But the silence of the master bedroom was deafening. He buried his face in her pillow, inhaling the faint, fading scent of her perfume. It was like trying to hold onto water in his cupped hands—the tighter he grasped, the faster it slipped away. For the first time in his life, the man who had always controlled everything felt utterly powerless. He was drowning in a sea of his own making, and Vivienne who could have saved him was gone forever. The darkness of the room seemed to press against his chest, suffocating him with the weight of his irreversible mistakes.

"I want you to feel me. I want you to know that I am yours. Not because you trapped me. Because I choose to be." He moved. A slow, deep, rolling rhythm. The water sloshed around us, lapping over our hips, as he made love to me. No degradation. No filthy names. Just his hands on my body, his lips on my neck, his heart beating against my chest. "Fuck," he groaned, his grip tightening on my hips. "You feel like salvation. You feel like the first real thing in my entire miserable life." "Drake," I moaned, my head falling back. The pleasure built slowly, a deep, aching heat pooling low in my belly. "I'm close. Please don't stop."

The way he'd press against her from behind while reaching for books on high shelves, letting her feel exactly what she did to him. "This is spiritual mentorship," he'd said, his breath hot on her neck. "God wants us to be close. To share everything." And Grace...twenty-four years old, raised to respect authority, taught that men of God were beyond reproach—had believed him. Until the night he bent her over his desk and showed her exactly what kind of man he really was. Now, three months later, Grace stood outside his study at 6 AM on a Sunday morning, her hands trembling as she knocked on the door.