House.of Ashes Chapters Novels & Stories

“Ella, darling, I don’t expect you to be able to handle this just yet. But you will. And we will be happy. Just give me a chance, please.” Ella stood, no longer willing to play his games or her father’s. “You can go to hell, Henry of Paris.” She stormed out of the room, headed upstairs, praying she could get ahold of Bart and figure out what that vial was because even if it was a concoction brought into existence from the devil himself, she would drink it to end this nightmare.

Hey this is Ashley We have met before haven't we? -------------------------------------------------------------- A/N Hola Amigos Hope you guys liked this chapter!! I decided to switch it up EVEN MORE and add Sami's P.O.V. What do ya'll think? 🤔 What will Ashley bring to the story now? Stay tuneedd Have a great day everyone Love ya'll ❤

“I could crawl into the mind of anyone I feel like, just as I did you, but I'm limited to yours, though.” “Thank goodness,” She said with a long sigh, “Well,” She continued, “The first time you got into my mind, it was horrifying…I don't want to talk about that else my view of you will change.” My eyes narrowed, “You mean when I came to you in the form of ash?” “Yeah, that one. How did you pull that up?” She asked,d flinging her hands in the air; she winced a little, bringing her arm down slowly. “The injected area still burns.”

Daisy got into the car and closed the door. Caleb leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed. Sweat covered his forehead. Daisy looked out the window. The lights of Verdant Manor grew farther and farther away as thick smoke rose into the night sky. She tightened her grip around the divorce agreement in her hands. This time, she was truly free.

Facing the camera, I spoke calmly, “No one loves me anymore, and I don’t have the courage to go on living. Fine. You can all just think of me as weak, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure to record everything. Even if I die, I won’t let them get away with it.” In the video, I crouched by the shore of Exile Island, holding a sharpened piece of bamboo. Again and again, I struck it against a rock. My hands soon became a bloody mess, but I felt nothing. It was as if I had gone completely numb. Someone in the audience cried out, “What is Jacob doing, sharpening bamboo like that? He’s not thinking of ending it, is he?” “After everything he’s been through, it wouldn’t be surprising…”

I push myself to my feet too quickly. The room tilts. Pain flares through my ribs. The silver is still there. Still burning. Still killing me slowly. But it’s quieter now. Contained. Because of her. Because she touched me. Because she didn’t just save me— She anchored something. My gaze snaps toward the open door. She’s gone. Of course she is. I take a step forward. Then stop. Because something else surfaces. Not instinct. Memory. Her shirt shifting. That mark. My breath stills.

A breathtaking place like a king's palace, a gold gate, and a vast expanse of flowers and tall trees surrounding the inner side of the estate wall. Her feet moved with awe and fear, her steps slowing as she approached the mansion's main door as if it were a monster that would swallow her. She entered the mansion with her mother—a vast, frightening space and opulence that took one's breath away. A middle-aged man with neatly combed black hair interspersed with a few gray strands stood there. It was Chris Myers, the richest man in America. He buttoned his suit jacket and extended his hand to Lila with a friendly smile.