Grace Shen Novels & Stories

“Ten seconds.” Grace opened her eyes. The red light blinked on. “Good evening,” the anchor began smoothly, turning to face the camera. “Tonight, we speak with Grace Hayes—businesswoman, shareholder in the Hayes Group, and daughter of the late executive Mara Lin, whose legacy has recently come under public scrutiny.” Grace inhaled once—slow, deliberate—and then spoke. “My mother was not late,” she said calmly. “She was silenced.” The words landed like a stone dropped into still water.

Grace dreamed of me? *****

Her heart pounded in her chest as she glanced toward the door, wondering if Dallion would storm in at any moment. “Survivor, yes.” Grace tilted her head, studying her as though trying to decipher a puzzle. “But there’s something else about you. Something Dallion hasn’t quite figured out yet.” Sherry looked away, her hands shaking as she tried to keep herself from completely unraveling. Grace’s kindness had a sharp edge, one that made her more dangerous than she appeared. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” Sherry murmured, eyes darting to the door, wondering how much longer she had before everything went wrong.

I rang up Grace. I knew she would do just about anything for me; we were very close friends now. Grace was Danielle's partner, a strikingly beautiful Ethiopian. She was a kindergarten teacher and often came home to spend time with me and the kids. Since Danielle worked at the Club and was in charge of all the duties that Shark had carried out before Lucien had killed him, both Gracie and I were familiar with the world that our respective lovers moved in. it was easy to relate to her.

Grace is the divine power that inspires virtue in humans and gives us the strength to endure difficult times. Grace Elizabeth Santos was born on June 29th at 3:17 pm. The first time Jade laid eyes on her, she believed her daughter was absolutely perfect in every sense. She never truly understood what love was until she laid her eyes on her daughter and cradled her tiny, pink body in her arms for the first time. It was the most magical moment she'd ever felt. Grace came out screaming, wide-eyed, and confused by the strange cold world, but the moment she heard the sound of her mother's voice, she froze and just blinked, listening for her.

Probably some guy gave her a fake number in the bar. "I know what it is. But who are you?" She again asks me anxiously. "I am secretary of the President of the Damison Group. My name is Ethan Stone." I reply to her irritatingly, as she is wasting my time. I need to go home and take a lavender bath with my rubber ducks.

Liam was strumming a guitar, playing something quiet and folk-like. And Grace. Grace was nineteen. She was the youngest, the surprise, the miracle born after the war was supposedly over. She stood up. She was wearing a simple white dress, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She held a glass of sparkling water. "One more toast," Grace said. Her voice was soft, but it carried the same quiet authority that Aria had developed over decades. "We're out of cider," Theo noted sleepily from his chair. "I don't need cider," Grace said. "I just need you to listen."

The rain fell harder. No one moved. The woman stood in the middle of the smoke, her grey eyes fixed on Daniel, Noah, and Elena. “My name is Grace.” “And I’m your sister.” Daniel stared at her. “No…” His voice was barely audible. “That’s impossible.” Grace smiled sadly. “I said the same thing when I found out.” Noah stepped in front of Dr. Mercer. “Prove it.” Without saying a word, Grace rolled back the sleeve of her tactical jacket.

"Shut the fuck up Linda. No one gives a flying shit about pumpkin fucking pie." "Okay. Looks like someone needs some nice distressing, calming yoga," I replied, getting out the car. "Come on." "Good evening, Ella," Katrine, the yoga teacher, said to me as we entered the hall. "Good evening, Leonardo," she added although through gritted teeth. Leo put on a fake almost sarcastic smile and I had to nudge him in the side with my elbow. "How old are you again?" I hissed in a hushed tone.

The table was a marble countertop that showed the map of the secret divisions, stretching from Khriva, down to Varagrafena, and beyond the mountains that led to Norspatia! “Okay, what’s the rush?” Crescent called out in his deep, gravel voice. “You won’t believe it guys but I saw her. She is coming!” Eriva informed exuberantly with a huge smile, her deep yellow eyes brimming with excitement. “And who is “her”?” Poseidon was the one who popped the question, with deep furrows of confusion marring his perfect, clean, shaved face. “Grisha! She is coming and she will be among this year’s intake.” She laid the news to us causing us to look at her in disbelief.